Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing – just enjoy playing with the characters far too much

Pairing: 1x2x1

Warnings: AU, yaoi, m/m sexual relations of the lemon variety, as near as a series of PWP as I can get (which is not *that* near), bad language, violence, angst, sap, creative license regarding law

A/N: For those of you awaiting updates for my multi-parts, they are being worked on and coming soon but think of this fic as an apology as I needed to write something less convoluted and plotty.

This fic is a series of one-shots so they do not feature direct continuity and were meant to be smutty and fun but kinda transformed into something a bit more complicated as I wrote them…

The title is taken from the My Chemical Romance song Sharpest Lives and each chapter is inspired by a particular song (though I guess you all know that by now!)

As always, this fic was beta-d by ELLE and it is all down to her encouragement that a 5000 word one-shot morphed into the 30k fic that it is today.

And finally… This series will be updated weekly on a Saturday for those who like to know the schedule.

Part One

Sharpest Lives

The view from the motel window only showed the dark parking lot through the dirty glass. Heero looked through, his gun still in hand, observing the stolen vehicle they'd arrived in and then opened the window the small amount it was allowed and let some air into the stifling warmth of the room. It was second floor. He would've preferred first floor but then it would do fine – he'd requested facing the lot rather than the scummy pool and the fat guy behind the desk had complied and not raised an eyebrow as he gave a name that was obviously fake. The cash he handed over, the bills now separated from the elastic bands, were looked at more cautiously, held up to the light as though checking for traces of ink dye or evidence of a fake. They got that look a lot as he had handed over a week's cash without blinking and the motel guy looked at them both, their frayed thrift store clothing and their obvious youth and doubted that it was real or legal.

Duo noticed that he was looking at the bills too closely and brought up a fact about how ninety percent of bills had traces of cocaine on them – a fact that Heero was not so sure was true but Duo had said it with a smile, put a hand on the small of his back to ease that tension and the guy behind the desk nodded. Heard that too, he said, like they were co-conspirators, and asked if they were interested in something as there was a guy who lived permanently in room 104 and he had good shit. Heero only shook his head at how the potentially awkward situation had been diffused and the two keys were handed over and the guy returned to some reruns of old baseball games on ESPN Classic. Duo waved and said thanks for tip – being overly friendly as always – supposed it worked. Not that they needed any good shit. The booze and the money and the mounting tension since knocking over the convenience store would be enough tonight.

Heero moved from the dirty window to the bathroom. Turned on the light and expected cockroaches to move. None did but it wasn't the cleanest. They didn't do hotels with maid service. Did weekly places, all cash, or hourly places, all cash or sleeping in the latest car they stole or bought with stolen money. They dropped cars, burnt them sometimes just to watch them go up, making out and drinking as they burnt.

He left the bathroom, walked over to one of the double beds where the duffle of cash was, the gun sitting on top of it – newly acquired. They'd not used a gun at first. Knives to the throat. Picking old diners at closing without anyone around or old gas stations not taken over by Exxon or Shell with one solitary employee. He'd never been afraid of guns – knew how to shoot one and seen the extreme violence of a shot to the head. But they'd not used them until this last robbery.

Guns were traceable. Bullets were. The point of the constant movement, shit motels and burning and dumping vehicles was that they were not traceable so that they could continue their small time crimes and dream of Mexico.

The sound of the lock put Heero back on alert. Duo was too relaxed but he knew he overcompensated by being far too cautious – but then there were times he just lost it. Encouraged by a wild look in blue eyes and hands that pulled him close in the middle of what they were doing – kissing him hard as the employees were bound in duct tape or hardware store rope and cash registers were already emptied and thrown to the floor. He went for the gun, the cool metal of it, remembering how it felt to be fired for the first time in a heist. Odin had taught him with tin cans. A cheap version of hunting in a city and he knew the correct posture but he'd never used a gun apart from that. He'd wanted to at thirteen when the local mob caught up with Odin, made to watch the bullet go into his head – left alone then. His mother long gone and the man who may or may not have been his father bloody on the floor. Managed to avoid foster care and the system for a year through the invaluable hacking skills until he'd beaten that kid and the principle had wanted to see his father… all came out then. And he'd been alone. Forced between homes until he'd inevitably ended up in juvie and then not alone. Not since then. Not since Duo.

The door opened and Duo walked in, locking it behind him, pulling the metal chain across it and carrying the supplies he'd gone to get. The heat in the room seemed to rise as Heero watched him walk.

"Hey, you were really gonna shoot me?"

Heero hadn't realised he was still holding the gun so he put it down on the bed and watched as snacks of the sweet, unhealthy and salty kind were put on the circular table – nothing healthy but then if he'd wanted anything that wouldn't rot his teeth or clog his arteries he'd have had to go.

"Have to be careful," he answered.

That store had a security camera. He'd shot it out but maybe it had recorded their images long enough for them to be recognisable. Should tell Duo to get rid of the braid – all that easy to recognise hair – but he'd seen that image of a three year old little boy holding onto a junkie mother with a braid and knew he wouldn't do it. Neither would Heero make him – as Duo moved closer, taking long slow strides across the worn carpet, t-shirt riding ever so slightly upwards as he did, the ripped old jeans far too low slung and those thrift store t-shirts thin and tight but Heero didn't complain as he reached out for the braid and the body he wanted.

"Yeah but we're one state over and there's been nothin' on the news yet… just chill, 'Ro. You worry far too much…"

Duo nipped at his ear, a tongue darting out and he felt the roughness of it against his skin – he felt like Duo had been teasing him all day – since they'd left another town and during their robbery with the kiss that seemed gratuitous and stupid but irresistible and in the car, swigging on the stolen Jack Daniels and working the top of the bottle in his mouth with a slight hint of tease. Then there had been the fucking Tootsie Pop he'd swiped for no other reason than Heero's personal torment as he'd driven. It had been a relief for him to fall asleep – cross state lines and find the first shitty enough motel as now he could do what he'd wanted to do.

The heat in the room rose a little more as Heero's hand went to the back pocket of black jeans, pushing him close, totally flush and their scorching hot bodies making contact that was beyond lust, and the other hand went to the back of Duo's head, pulling at the braid and forcing their lips to meet.

A little crime always made them horny.

There was a rush to this kiss. Heero would make it up to him later, be gentler or just not rush it but the tease had been too much and there was the high from getting the cash and using the gun and it all made him want Duo now – though Duo didn't seem to be reluctant. Despite the hint of aggression, the way that Heero forced his tongue deep into his mouth, Duo opened his wide, his own tongue entwining, tilting his head to allow the kiss to be ripped from him. Heero's hand moved from the back pocket of the jeans and ran up to the small of the back, the firm muscles rippling and pushing the t-shirt up. He felt Duo's hands making their own explorations and Heero couldn't help the muted moan when he touched the front of the pale blue jeans, rubbing over where his dick began to become painful against the restricting fabric. This moment of surprise proved that the young man in his arms was his fucking equal even as he tried to maintain some control and he felt himself be pushed forward towards the bed, the back of his legs meeting it and he sat on the edge. Duo followed him, his legs on either side of his, straddling him and his lips left Heero's – allowing him a moment to rake his teeth down his throat.

"Fuck," he heard Duo breathe and Heero felt a level of satisfaction.

Gentle would be for later. Not now and there had always been something about marking him that was an unbelievable turn on – that this fierce, violent and dangerous young man was his and he was the one fucking him. He intended to bite down but he felt a hand on his jaw, forceful and then Duo made him to look up into lust filled blue eyes.

"Did it turn you on today?"

Heero blinked and decided right now was not the time for that question considering he had a raging hard on and that evidence was against Duo's own ass.

"You turn me on," he said and tried to pull Duo's head back down for another heated kiss but it was blocked.

"I ain't asking you that as I know I do," he said, the teasing back as he ground his hips downwards against Heero's and it was hard to concentrate on anything but the burning need in his jeans and the hot, hard body pressed against his. "Did this turn you on?"

The gun was in Duo's hand and Heero had no idea how he had it. They were on the bed with the duffle, the money but Heero had been concentrating on the body and Duo was fucking crafty. Made him a better thief – it was him that had shown him to get around the security at the Noventa house and got them a supply of jewellery that they'd had to fence at much lower prices than it was worth. But there was something exciting about breaking into a rich persons home and fucking on the bed while a party went on downstairs and they could walk away without repercussions and have a couple of thousand dollars' worth of sparklers. All by just flirting with a lonely little rich girl – Duo always had an angle.

"It's not a toy," Heero said.

He rolled his eyes in response. "I know that, babe… I'm just having a lil fun…"

Heero sometimes worried about his lover's idea of fun as he felt the barrel against his chest in a close approximation of where his heart would be – the cold metal against hot skin even through the material of the t-shirt. Duo moved it in a slow circle over his chest, to nipples, the cold being pleasurable on his overheated skin. He didn't want to think whether it was a turn on – there had always been something about their crimes, about the danger and living close to the edge and the life perched on the edge of a knife blade that was so fucking exciting. They were always too close to the edge – that they could fuck up and be caught and end up in jail. And they swore they never would end up jail.

They'd take suicide by cop rather than be separated – Heero had promised that to Duo when they started this – promised it when he'd stood over his hospital bed when he'd been beaten within an inch of his life before the cash and the violence and the heists. They'd never be separated. Never be apart. Always them against the world. Maybe nineteen was a little young to promise that but fuck if he cared. Fuck if he wanted anyone else.

"Stop."

Heero grabbed the wrist holding the gun, tight, tight enough to hurt but Duo didn't give indication of the pain, the cool metal slipping from his fingers and falling towards the floor. He released the wrist, conscious that he could've left bruises and looked up into blue eyes.

"Stop teasing me," he said.

He received a cocky smirk in response but Heero leaned upwards, wiping that smirk off his face with a tongue across the lips and then delving into that mouth, claiming, possessing. Duo's body responded, creating friction, heating up, burning like it always did.

His fingers finally touched Duo like he'd wanted all day, sliding up the soft material of t-shirt, scraping nails down sides, up to erect nipples and down across firm abdominal muscles that fluttered under his fingers. He left those lips, taking the bottom lip with his teeth before releasing it and pushed up the fabric, Duo moving his arms, aiding in its removal and for a second it stalled the intense passion. Still made him pissed when he saw the scars scattered across Duo's chest – still hated to see them and for a second he just leaned his head against his shoulder, breathing him in – breathing in that scent and remembering how he thought he was watching him die.

"Heero."

He heard the voice, none of the joking, none of the sarcasm and humour – a gentle, hell, maybe loving tone. Then there was movement and it took him a second to realise the intention of his lover, who slid down between his legs, pushing them apart firmly and he felt the movement of a button being popped and a zipper being pulled downwards.

"Duo…" he murmured, unable to help his name slipping out as a skilled hand sought out his hard cock and tugged it out of boxers and jeans.

Their eyes met and Heero could tell him that he didn't need it right now, that they should fuck instead, but he was nineteen and he had a willing fuckable guy offering to suck him off and he wasn't going to deny him fucking anything. He could have all the cash, the gun as long as that tongue – that flicked out, swiping the tip, making him shudder – and that mouth went down on him. He leaned back on the bed, on his elbows, and let Duo do whatever he wanted. Seen the techniques today on the Tootsie Pop, on the tip of the Jack Daniels bottle and now on his dick as a tongue swirled round the head, and then a mouth sucked the tip, barely daring to look down as the technique changed and he felt lips take more, a hand at the base, another on his thigh, gripping into flesh through denim.

"Shit…"

He couldn't stop the moan, the incoherent words, looking up at the cracked motel ceiling rather than Duo, head between his legs, head bobbing, alternating between tongue and a the tiniest hint of teeth, and then taking his cock in further than he thought possible. Bypassing gag reflexes and he felt the swallowing around his dick, tried to still his hips and not make the instinctual movement as he felt the white hot feeling building and he made a noise to warn Duo and then it was fucking it. He was coming hard and that mouth was still hot around him.

It took a few moments for his thoughts to be anything more than pure pleasure and then his softening cock was slipping out of moist lips and Duo was crawling into his lap, his tongue demanding entrance so that he could taste his own cum, sharing the flavour. Their kiss separated.

"Don't think about any of that shit," Duo said, "we're ain't there anymore and ain't nobody gonna hurt us."

No, those thugs were cities away, states away, miles away, in the pouring rain of the northwest and they were heading south – always heading south, to the border, eventually, and to beaches and hot sweaty nights and tequila.

"I know."

Heero knew but it didn't stop him thinking even as he ran his fingers down Duo's chest, reaching for the waistband of jeans, finding the zipper.

"Off," he commanded.

"You think ya got another round in ya?"

He didn't answer, instead, he made his intention clear, hands forcing the zipper down and then Duo stepped out of his reach, not letting him have any more contact as he slid those tight, tight jeans down, removed sneakers and socks but left boxer shorts on and returned to within touching distance.

"No fair. You're still fully dressed...well, not totally," Duo smirked, eyes drifted down to his spent cock.

"Do something about it."

Heero knew he shouldn't encourage Duo – could already see that it was a bad idea to offer it like a challenge as he was pushed from his reclining position to down fully on the bed and talented hands were underneath his own thrift store t-shirt, not as tight but pushing it up and a tongue licked at the skin revealed and he could already feel the stirrings of arousal at the body above him – he always responded to Duo. Lost since that first day in juvie – boy with a fucking braid taking shit and for some reason he'd stepped in and that was it. Before he offered anything in thanks… before the hand job and before he'd sworn he'd never leave him.

He moved to allow Duo to get his shirt off and then felt hands at the already open jeans, a hand brushing over his cock that was beginning to respond. Maybe they came too quickly – part of the problem of being nineteen – but then their recovery times were impressive. Heero wriggled his hips to help remove his jeans, kicked off sneakers and felt Duo remove socks leaving him completely naked. He shifted back onto the bed, pushing away the duffle that fell to the floor, the bundles of cash and loose bills joining the weapon.

"No fair," Heero said, repeating Duo's own words as now he was naked and his lover was not – the tenting of boxers reminding him that he'd not come.

That could be remedied.

He grabbed at hips, impatiently removing the last strip of clothing between them and Duo kicked them off before returning to straddling Heero. He felt unable to breathe for a moment, that it was too fucking intense, that this was too much – but regained whatever brain cells he needed and pulled at the braid, wrapping it tight around his fist to bring Duo's body in direct contact.

"Lube?"

Heero heard the words, felt them playing across his mouth but in their current tangle of limbs it seemed like it'd be hell to separate. Instead, he rolled them over, the sudden movement and force of it eliciting a murmured "fuck" from Duo's lips as the positions were reversed and it allowed Heero to lean down to retrieve his jeans and find a tube without the total loss of bodily contact.

"Always prepared, 'Ro?" Duo teased as Heero returned to his position directly on top, perfect alignment of bodies

He smirked. "Always have to be when you fucking tease me all day," he said, opening the tube with practiced skill as tongues warred.

His fingers slid down, knowing the familiar pattern, the same routine – it was years since juvie – years since they'd first fucked in a filthy cleaning cupboard on some bullshit punishment thing they'd both been sent on – but it was all still too good. Didn't think he'd ever get enough as he slid one finger inside, feeling the hitch of breath in the kiss and Duo was always so responsive and it was always too much. Despite coming once, he was fully hard and didn't think he'd last long – wanted it to be a memorable fuck, wanted to burn away the cash and the gun and the memories they kept running from and just wanted it to be Duo and Duo's body and fuck all else.

Desperate for breath, their lips parted and Heero leaned his head downwards, and felt a hand stroke the back of his head then that hand clutched at his hair in a sudden spasm as he hit prostate and the desperate little moan made him aware that Duo would be fucking close too. And he inserted another finger, scissoring, stretching and preparing him with care that contrasted against the violent life he'd led and the things that he'd done.

"Stop fucking around," Duo said, breathy, and he felt a hand pull up his head so that they made eye contact.

Duo would say something clever to that – he thought – something about how he'd be fucking him but Heero didn't have that way with the words or those thought processes as he moved back onto his heels, and raised one leg over his shoulder, lapping a tongue against ankle before bringing the other around his waist and lubed his hard dick before beginning the slow push in.

Everything about their life was frantic and quick and violent. But this wasn't going to be. Blue eyes squeezed shut as he focused on heat and the point of contact between bodies. Tried to control every instinct and the desire to just pound knowing Duo would take it rough and hard. Wanted it that way sometimes just as he did when they reversed positions, when it was Duo's cock up his ass and they were low on time or just too fucking horny for anything but he paused, enveloped in tightness and taking deep breaths, maintaining some control.

"Jesus fucking Christ…"

His eyes flipped open to see Duo underneath him – the sheen of sweat, the braid dishevelled, his own marks from the scraping of teeth and nails over his chest as though trying to erase those other marks. And he leaned forward, taking one more kiss from those lips, taking the "oh fucks" and "shits" and "Heero's" from them as he pulled out and then back in at a slow pace. He took it as slow as he could but he soon felt Duo's impatience, both legs now around his waist pulling him tighter in and the hips meeting his harder, the colliding of sweaty bodies increasing in pace till it would be over soon in a rush of cum.

Duo suddenly moved, he felt a push on his shoulders and his legs lowered, it stilled his thrusts, confused, as they were too damn close and it was not the time to be fucking around, in Duo's words. It took a second to realise the intent as he slipped out, his cock burning in the air as he let hands and a strong body force him onto his back and could only look up and process the change in position as Duo lowered onto him and he let his hands drift to hips.

"Felt bad letting you do all the work…"

"Fuck," was the only word Heero could manage as he felt deeper inside, so fucking deep and he could only lie back and let this happen – let Duo ride him and hold firmly onto hips to assist each thrust up and down, the braid brushing against the skin of his thighs.

It didn't need to last long now and he watched through lidded eyes as Duo's hand deliberately made its way down to his own cock, dripping, and jerked off to the time of each downward thrust. He reached up and wrapped his own hand around Duo's, both of them bringing him to completion, thick cum splattering over hands and Heero's chest and the deep groaned "Heero – fuck" and the head thrown back and the tightening around his own dick making him come, his hips twitching up.

If the blow job had taken time to come down from, the fuck took longer as Duo's body relaxed onto his, the heavy breathing on his shoulder and the tongue that licked out to taste sweat being the only lifeline to reality as Heero felt the aftershocks of orgasm shuddering through him.

"Fuck, 'Ro."

He chuckled at the first words spoken – no comeback for it as it became apparent they were both damn sticky – sweat and cum starting to dry and Heero felt his cock slip out.

"Shit, think I need to tease you every fucking day… or maybe use the gun in every heist – you were somethin' else…"

With the reminder of the gun, Heero looked over to the floor to see the duffle and the bundles of cash and some of the loose bills spread out. They needed to count it and make sure none was left in the room in case any bills were traceable. His thoughts were interrupted.

"Stop thinking, Heero."

"Yeah," he answered, a slight distracted tone to his voice. He groaned as he moved. "Shower?"

"Naw, too fucking sleepy. Bed?"

He nodded and Duo managed to disentangle limbs enough to separate and Heero decided right now he didn't give a shit about being covered in Duo's cum or his own sweat – and moved to settle himself against the headboard of the bed, forgetting about the cash, and slid his legs into the thin rough sheets.

Heero watched through lazy eyes, open to slits, exhausted from fucking and coming twice in quick succession as Duo left the bed and reached for the bottle of Jack Daniels. He took a deep swig and passed it over and then he watched as Duo bent over, the image still erotic despite his exhaustion and saw him reach for his jeans. From the pocket he got out the worn, brown wallet and Heero took a long drag from the bottle as Duo came back and sat alongside him, leaning his head against his sweaty shoulder.

He knew what he was doing. That stupid piece of a magazine. He watched as Duo opened it slowly, the image creased in four and it was white from the amount of times it had been damn folded in those creases. The picture of a beach, the sunset, cocktails – a million miles from the world they'd come from. Heero kissed his neck and looked at the picture.

"Tell me again."

Duo's body rumbled against his own, that small chuckle, and he enjoyed the skin on skin contact now as much as their passionate fucking.

"You're so sick of this shit."

"No. Tell me again."

"This is where we're going, babe, that we pull a few more jobs and we make some more dough… we keep travelling south and then we cross over the border…"

Heero made a low "hmm" in the back of his throat at the story, ran his hand over muscled thighs and buried his head against Duo's shoulder.

"Then we get to Tijuana and we drink and we fuck and we smoke and we do whatever the fuck we want for a few weeks…"

"And then?"

"We travel to the coast and we put our toes in the ocean and it's just you and me and nothin' else. Forever. And it don't matter all that shit that we left behind and it don't matter all the things we done."

Duo folded the picture up, putting it back in the wallet as though it was something sacred and it probably was – from that time before juvie, before they met – and placed it on the table beside the bed.

"I like that story," Heero said.

"Yeah, me too."

They shared one more swig from the Jack Daniels bottle, a deep kiss, before turning off motel lights and lying down to sleep entangled in each other's sweaty limbs. Heero felt Duo's body relax against his own but he couldn't sleep, instead stayed awake in the dark, running fingers lightly over his lovers back who probably dreamt about Mexico and beaches while he thought of ways to make sure they got there.

And finally, when he felt sleep start to claim him, he smiled against damp skin, his lips against Duo's shoulders and murmured "forever" before letting himself relax into dreamless oblivion.