Duo

Hilde is as close to literally wringing her hands as a person can get. She’s fiddling with a hangnail, unconscious and uncomfortably. It’s unlike her to be so visibly on edge, but sitting across the fold-down table in our tiny galley kitchen, which is the only communal space in our tiny ass apartment, I feel like all I ever do these days is put her on edge.

It’s been coming to a head for months now. Its been five years into this supposed peace. Two years of trying to get a domestic, civilian relationship working between the two of us. One year since I brought up that I was still attracted to men and couldn't see myself shelving that for my whole life. Two weeks since that drag queen from the club I like stopped me at a coffee shop to say hello when we were on one of our “coffee date mornings”, and Hilde looked like she wanted to melt under the table. Forty-eight hours since I nonchalantly threw out the “you know, I used to suck dick for money” in that bitter, self-destructive way that I cant help myself from doing. Six hours since she reminded me that she has gay friends, she supports sex work, and she is just adjusting to what this might mean for our relationship.

She's so disgusted with me. She always will be. And now her cuticles are bleeding as she tries to think of what to say. She’s supposed to be a modern and cool. Flexible and feminist. Not tied to the idea that she had wrangled a bad boy who was now going to work at her scrap yard like she took in a stray. Not intimidated by her slut-skank of a boyfriend. Yet here we are.

Quatre says I'm projecting, but I'm sitting here watching her rip her skin out, trying to think of anything to say. How could I think any differently, really?

“Duo-”

“This isn’t working, is it.” It comes out to fast, harsh. Not a question.

“Duo…” She says it quieter, and the heavy, exhausted sigh that follows has been hanging around since the coffee dates started. I hate the coffee dates and the sigh. “Can we just talk?”

“Sure. Anytime. Right now? Two weeks ago when you snubbed Alice who was just saying fucking hello?”

“Duo. Please. I just… when we agreed that you'd start going out to… explore things without me, I hadn't really considered how I'd feel when I started to meet your new friends. You don’t talk about where you go-”

“You told me NOT to.”

“I just told you to give me time.”

“Ok?”

“And so I was just surprised to meet someone you'd never mentioned before, and-”

“And it freaked you out enough to run away?”

“I was trying to give you some space.”

“To talk to men but without you having to see it?”

“Ugh!” She slaps a palm down on the table but its not very hard and she’s not really yelling. “It’s not about that!”

“Then what the fuck is it about?” It comes out with that level seething that betrays how long I've been upset. Anger is a precious resource, my sharpest knife. As frustrated as I've been, the idea of truly hurting Hilde terrifies me. Why wont she just tell me that she wants to end this, why are we dragging this out?

“You keep treating me like I'm a fucking homophobe but-”

“Well, that’s when this all started, didn’t it?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“Duo, you're being a piece of shit.” she spits, and I'm so fucking ready to go.

“I tell you all this shit about myself after you keep telling me to open up, and now we're dancing around how uncomfortable its making you and… I just thought you were smarter than this?”

“You're a fucking piece of shit and an idiot!”

“I'm not seeing the fucking alternative?”

“How about this Duo? I told you I love you about a year ago, you forget?” This, admittedly, slows me down a bit.

“No. I didn’t.”

“And you told me you needed time.”

“Yeah.”

“And then you told me you like men.”

“…yeah.”

“And then that you needed space.”

“Yeah.”

“And just maybe, I'm wondering if all this time and space is just about never wanting this in the first place? Building a life and friends that don’t include me so that it’s set up when you jump ship? You keep asking me to get over this, but what am I getting over exactly, Duo? I'm just wondering how much I specifically need to do before you can say I love you back?”

“I-”

“I don’t care if you're sucking dick for money now, you fucking asshole, I’m pissed you're happy making me the enemy instead of just accepting that I want a little commitment while I fucking adjust but fuck me I guess!”

“I…”

“If you say I love you now I'll kick you out of that fucking window!” She crosses her arms, barely has a tear in her eye, and she’s every bit the woman I've always loved in that moment. She’s a soldier, a fiery, scary, self-assured fighter that deserves so much better. Someone who can say it.

Fuck.

“…sorry.” I say it soft and I hope she knows I mean it. She pinches her nose and that deep sigh is back.

“For which part.”

“Everything.”

“Duo. Please.”

“No I… you're right.” And I get up from the table. She looks at me with this tired look, like there was no other possible outcome of this. I'm still frustrated somehow, but she’s right.

It takes measly ten minutes for me to grab my mostly packed duffel bag and toss my last few possessions in them. The bag has been packed since I got here. I told myself it was to save space. Why take up space in her closet, in her dresser? Just keep the three outfits I own with my gun and my few worldly possessions.

I check the bag for its precious contents. Its an automatic action, I always check it before I leave with it, and I guess I’m leaving. I feel detached as I do it, its so familiar to run this inventory.

A small card with sister Helen’s favorite hymn and a drawing of her favorite flower, which I made in state mandated therapy.

The original chain for my cross, ripped from my neck on a mission. Trowa deftly repaired it for me as soon as we got to safety. His handiwork was good, but I got another chain for fear the old delicate thing might break again.

The key Quatre gave me on a small customized ring that has a poem inscribed on it, telling me I'm always welcome in his home.

The small folding knife that Wufei gave me during our court proceedings. All parts of it black in color, well balanced and sharp. A surprisingly sweet gesture and he smiled in his smug way when he placed it in my hands.

The small hand written note on a postcard, from Heero telling me that he was leaving the princess’s security force and taking up Preventers work. His neat, exacting letters spelling out my name and assuring me a good recommendation, should I follow.

As I place my gun next to it all, there's no evidence of Hilde in this bag I consider to be my life. It hits me then, that I should have grabbed this and left before I ever spent the night. I should have slept on her floor and not done this to her. It’s my fault for hoping that it would work with anyone who was willing to keep me, willing to sleep next to me and keep the nightmares away. I should have realized I was wasting her time. I've fucked up and every second longer I spend here is just going make it worse. And now the anger is back but its finally aimed at the right target, I feel the self loathing searing hot and it screams in my head. It was too easy to pretend I was trapped, it was so satisfying for it to not be my fault. It was so much more normal of a version of my life, that my girlfriend couldn't handle my slightly deviant past, instead of being a broken murderer who is still on multiple government watch lists and can’t get a fucking grip.

I swing a leg out the bedroom window and think I can hear a short, restrained sob from the kitchen before I hop down. I'm practically in a full sprint before my mind can catch up to where I'm headed. Two hours later I'm at the spaceport, I've already told Quatre I'm on the way, and I'm rocking slightly as I sit on a bench. My phone vibrates.

[Just text me in 6 months and let me know you're alive somewhere. I deserve that much.]

[Okay.]

Quatre

I planned a languid four weeks away from the main estate. We're here, in a cliff side house I have stashed away in the mountains. This is one of my favorite places for time with just Trowa. He takes short hikes and watches the birds, and I read and pretend I don’t have a galactic business to balance. It’s quiet and well stocked, and not too far from town.

I knew right away that I had to get Duo away the trappings of being among my pampered family. Duo hates being doted over by staff of any sort, maids, cooks, and therapists a like. When he made it to the estate, all of my sisters were present for inheritance dealings. You would think that Duo was part of the negotiations, they fawned over him as if he were a cat they could adopt. I couldn't apologize enough, even as he laughed it off.

Here though, its just the three of us. He’s finally started to drop the cheerful façade and relax. I've been seeking him out once a day to make sure he knows he’s welcome and loved (and to force him to eat at least one meal), but trying to allow him some space to decompress.

Today, I find Duo sitting on the floor at a low table in the parlor, his boots grinding into a particularly nice old-world rug I have in there. I'm not even sure why he’s wearing his boots at first, but the scattering of flowers about the table look as though they've been clipped from Trowa’s well manicured garden, so he must have been out there.

“Do you want a vase for those?” he looks up at my voice like I’m a ghost for a moment, not exactly startled, but like he’s not sure I'm real. He's grown out his bangs and now even when he braids it, the shorter hairs come loose and frame his face in an oddly delicate way.

His eyebrows knit together and he shakes his head. I've come close enough to see what he’s doing.

“Tro’ said he didn't mind.” He states simply, as if I'd actually admonish him for taking a few flowers, when I've been trying for years now to get him to take literally any of my offered help.

I'm still teasing out the details of how things truly ended with Hilde. I have a few curt texts from her, asking if he's here, that didn't give me much of a hint. At least she knows he’s alright. Alive and not too far adrift.

I look down at the table, which has a papers strewn about with sketches of Trowa’s flowers. They have short notes next to them and dates. This is not a habit I've known him to have, but the drawings are delightful. They have a sort of stiffness to them, but they are attentive and well observed. They remind me that when he and I first ran a mission together, he surprised me by cleanly drawing a room in perspective to walk through an infiltration. That memory had slipped my mind over the years. It's a skill he keeps to himself, like almost all of his talents, until its unavoidable to have them known.

I sink to the floor and slide in next to him, letting our shoulders bump, and he wraps an arm around my waist. He's always been receptive to physical closeness, and I cherish it. He's the last of the pilots to have sought sanctuary with me after the war, but he was the first I felt close enough to hold in my arms.

“They're not pretty, like when you paint.”

“Oh, stop. They're lovely. Can I see?” I start reaching and collecting the papers and he drops his pencil to wrap me further into an embrace. When I've got the full stack, he nuzzles into my neck and hums. I cant help but chuckle. I suspect that he hasn’t had much cuddling in his life for a while now, with how touchy-feely he’s been.

I start flipping through the different sheets. Each page has a collection of drawings, all of plants, a few with a touch of color pencil. I realize that this stack spans mostly the weeks he’s been with us, as we bounced between properties until I could get us here and settled. The papers appear to be reclaimed fliers and receipts that he’s drawn on the back of, save one, much smaller on thick watercolor stock, dated six years back. He takes that one from me in a delicate grip.

“This one is older.”

“A hymn?”

“Helen's favorite.” he mentions this casually, but he doesn't speak about his past much, and the church hardly ever. “The art-lady was very pleased with this one, and I almost tossed it out of spite, but I guess she won.”

The “art-lady” is a world renowned therapist. Duo respected her doctorate just as much as he respected any other part of our government mandated rehabilitation program.

“She was one of the good ones, Duo. I don’t think she saw it as a competition to try and help you. To try and help us.”

“Really? Still felt like it to me. Every one of those creeps were seeing the dollar signs, waiting to write their shitty books on how they got to poke the brains of the five famous murder children.”

“Murder Children is my least favorite of your little nicknames for us, you know.”

“Sorry, but I've already decided it’s also our band name.” Duo puts Helen's tribute back into my hands, and scoots down to rest his head on my chest. A few moments pass before he nearly whispers “I think she would have liked this.”

“Hmm?”

“I think… there's not much I've done since…then, that Helen would have liked about me. But, when I finished that, I thought… maybe she would have liked it. Maybe If I draw flowers, there's something about me now that she would think is nice.”

This, of course, breaks my heart. I resist saying anything like ‘I’m sure she would have loved you no matter what’ because nothing shuts down Duo faster than someone assuming they can perceive his past. I cant claim to know the people he lost or how they would have felt. Instead I carefully put the papers down, and squeeze him tightly. I rock him gently, the way I’ve caught him rocking himself when he’s crying and thinks no one can tell.

We stay like this for a long while. All I can think about is how precious he is to me. My time with him here is finite. There's already an application in with the Preventers, and the application is merely a formality for us. I'm going to have to stop cradling him my arms, ship him off to Heero and Wufei, and pray that they take care of him. Do they think of him as gently as I do? I love Trowa, truly and deeply, in every depth of my heart and soul. I love Trowa, everyone knows that. But do they know that I would break my current pacifism without hesitation to cut down any stupid fuck that dare lay a malicious finger on this creature? Could they possibly know? How far I could go, how many resources I have at my disposal?

As if he has a radar for my dark thoughts, Trowa appears in the door. He cocks his head and strolls towards us, kneeling down to stroke the loose hairs from Duo's cheeks. He's looking at me like I looked at my sisters when they fawned all over Duo, and I know later he'll be chastising me for treating him like he’s a broken thing that needs fixing. I'll never stop insisting that its different though, he needs to belong somewhere. If not here with us, at least somewhere safe. We owe him that.

“Hey Tro’.” Duo says but he’s still buried in my chest so it’s muffled.

“Hey, friend.” Trowa says softly, and Duo has not been around him quite enough to know that is the voice he uses when soothing animals. “Hate to break this up, but its time for lunch.”

Duo nods but throws his arms around Trowa’s shoulders and pulls him into the huddle. I take a deep breath and savor the three of us, letting the softness of it wash over me before my protectiveness makes me bitter and angry. Trowa stands and lifts Duo with him, making him laugh breathlessly and start to joke as he gets his footing.

I wonder for a moment if I could beg Duo to stay. Forget the Preventers. If I could convince my former mercenary husband to hang it up and travel with me, maybe I can do it again. I watch them stroll off, and I know its too late for that. I sigh and look at my phone. Five texts from Heero.

[ The application process is nearly complete. Waiting on the last signature from Une. The company condo has been cleared out. Three weeks should be sufficient for booking his arrival.]

[ The company condo is depressing. Duo will need some things. I will procure necessary kitchen supplies and make some other improvements.]

[Please buy him a coat. If he’s still wearing the same boots, replace them. He only lets you buy him things. He'll keep them if you do it. I will tell him the rest of it came with the company furnishings.]

[L2 has been more stable in temperature and he’s not used to being on earth for so long. I'm concerned he will not buy a coat. Perhaps also a sweater. The highs are just above freezing.]

[Thank you. Wufei says hello.]

I cant help but smile at this. I may be over protective, but I often forget the mother hen that Heero has become. Since he and Wufei have started dating, I occasionally get a barrage of concerned texts about relationship conventions that Heero is afraid he doesn’t understand. Its endearing. Knowing this side of him extends to Duo even partially gives me some comfort.

[No trouble at all Heero. I'll ship him over well stocked.]

They had better keep him safe.

Heero

It’s a week to Duo’s arrival. To my knowledge, supplies have been acquired and are being shipped here. I’m standing in the company condo, made a bit less depressing by our efforts. Wufei did most of the heavy lifting, picking out furniture and being concerned about the “energy” and aesthetics. For my part, he will have a stocked kitchen, patched walls, and a re-caulked tub. All the things I hated about this shitty condo when I stayed in it, but had no motivation or knowledge to fix when I was here.

Wufei is on his way, he is stopping off to pick up some towels, supplies to insulate the drafty windows in the bedroom, and a new fuse box to replace an ancient florescent light over the laundry. He does not like shopping with me. I am too particular, apparently, and too slow to make choices. I try not to frustrate him on purpose, but he is constantly surprised that I care about the quality of any domestic thing we purchase. I used to machine parts for a wonder of modern engineering, I feel like I should be forgiven for getting annoyed at the faulty manufacturing of most consumer appliances. Wufei is even more easily annoyed and less easy with his forgiveness, so he does not appreciate my discerning eye. His loss.

I sit on the couch we secured for the living room and look over our handiwork. With my partners help, it’s a more welcoming space. Hopefully Duo will not be suspicious that the condo, usually for agents on temporary assignment, has so many accommodations. Preventers is usually pretty scant on amenities, but he doesn't know that yet. It will give him a better shot of settling in if he doesn't hate this place.

I let out a deep breath I was holding. I've been waiting for this for a long time. Duo has been a curiosity for me since we first met, and though we never got close during the war, he left a lasting impression on me afterwards. I had convinced myself I would never get this opportunity, that he wouldn't join us in the peace keeping efforts, and would just live out a civilian life with Hilde… When that all blew up months ago, I had to sit down Wufei to tell him about my “crush”, if that’s what it can be called.

There's a knock at the condo door, a familiar arrhythmic pattern that is just a small measure to help assuage panic. We're all still a little paranoid, it's easier to just mitigate it.

“Its me.” Wufei announces as he opens the door, he’s got two armfuls of stuff and he scoffs when I come to help him, but smiles and kisses me when I take most of it.

“This is the last of it?”

“Better be, it’s everything that was on the list.”

“Good.” I am inspecting the contents that I've already dumped on the table. Towels are a bit small for the amount of hair that Duo has, but they are soft. I look up to say so, but Wufei is already nonplussed, eyebrows raised.

“Well? Pass inspection, asshole?”

“Hmph. Yes.”

“And?” he looks at me expectantly, and I look at him confused for a moment, and then grumble.

“Thank you.” Duo thinks its hilarious that, for the past year, I've been being schooled on manners by ”the testiest bitch he knows” and he lets me know every time I add a thank you to my texts.

Wufei is satisfied with my gratitude and begins unbagging takeout he got for us on his errands. We settle in on the couch together to eat. This coconut curry is from a Thai place that we used to go to more, at the tail end of me living here by myself. Before Wufei had integrated into my life enough to tell me that this place was shit and I should move in with him. The curry is good, and somehow it makes the time I spent in here seem less dismal. If it were more comfortable, I may have not taken the leap to committing to moving in with him so soon.

We eat in companionable silence, with just the noise from the café on the street below as a backdrop for the meal. I am lost in memories, something that was more frightening for me to do when I was here, alone.

“You miss fucking here after work?” Wufei says with a bluntness that makes me snort.

“It was pretty convenient.”

“Maybe we can swing it while Duo is here?” he looks over at me with a big teasing smirk on his face. Once he realized that, for whatever reason, my feelings towards Duo are sincere, he's been fascinated by it and messing with me. I can feel heat rising in my face, but I tell myself its the spicy food.

“I dont think… I'm not sure he’ll even appreciate that we renovated this condo for him.”

“You're really not going to tell him we did this?”

“I'm worried that it will come on as strong as wanting him to move in with us.” We have a decent sized house on the edge of the city, and asking him to stay with us was my first instinct. Wufei patiently reasoned out that this would put too much pressure on him. It makes sense, in retrospect.

“Look, I know I had to talk you down a bit, but its not like Duo is just some friend either. Quatre is sending him here with a whole wardrobe, after all. He knows this is part of the deal. He’s the one that made the deal.” With that, Wufei is up and clearing plates so we can get on with the rest of these tasks and get home.

The deal is that we take of each other. It was how we got through court mandated rehabilitation, and it was Duo who struck the deal. I get to the bedroom and lay out my instructions and supplies to get started. Memories wash over me immediately, as they do when ever I methodically set out to perform mundane work.

COURT MANDATED REHABILITATION

(As remembered by Heero as he insulates 4 historic windows. A task that will take 4 hours, because the windows are large, the stepping stool is shorter than he would have bought, and the task itself is more fiddly than he initially estimated.)

To say all of us were friends during the war would be a stretch, but all of the other Gundam pilots were trusted allies by the time we finally got to the other side of it. Our coordination to end the war is what made us seem like a cohesive unit in peoples minds, but we were independent of each other the whole time, working together in passing moments, helping each other because we had little else to rely on.

Relena worked political miracles to reduce our time in the limelight once things had truly settled. The terms of rehabilitation were essentially a year long prison sentence for each of us that she managed to reshape as cushy mental wellness program. It was as much to appease people who wanted our heads as it was to give us time to fade in peoples memories. It could have been much longer, and much harder for all of us, without her intervention.

Quatre provided equal funds to find an appropriate a rehab facility, cleared it out so it was just the 5 of us and a staff of professionals set to work on or reintegration with society. Some of the therapists were hand picked by Relena, and others were appointed by the court.

The property was nice. A sizable island with not much on it other than this facility and a few dozen residents. Its green and lush and remote. I supposed Quatre wanted a vacation and thought this could double as both. I remember those first few days, feeling like this was frivolous, but not all bad, maybe being isolated for a year is what we need.

It's hard to pinpoint when the sessions began to change, but after a month the unease set in. I was leaving some of my talk therapy sessions sweating and discomforted. I was sleeping terribly. We started to understand that a few of the court appointed therapist were not on our side. One was formerly OZ, as it turned out, and you would think she watched one of us consume her children with her own two eyes. She prodded and provoked, she seemed to want to feel threatened, like she wanted to be able to tell a judge that we were in fact homicidal maniacs that would immediately slay the first civilian who made us angry.

Duo just called her Dr. Oz, and that’s how I remember her now. She was a short woman with piercing blue eyes that reminded me of Relena, but she had none of her royal softness. She spent her sessions with me asking about my regrets, challenging my vague answers. I have so many regrets, but she unnerved me to much to speak them to her.

After three weeks of keeping to myself, the sleepless nights, and days full of probing at my guarded emotions, I started to feel absolutely pulled apart. I wanted to clean a gun, but the “stimulation room” had legos and metal linking puzzles. I wanted to lose myself on a motorcycle and drive for a few hours, but the Island was all golf carts and barely a few miles across. I wanted to punch someone, but that’s exactly what half of the people monitoring us wanted too. If I had an outburst, it might jeopardize our freedom to live in the peace we fought for, and I wouldn’t be the one who fucked this up for everyone. I couldn’t.

Reaching the end of my coping abilities, I went to the gym, purposefully seeking out Wufei instead of silently and respectfully avoiding what I’d found to be his preferred hours. I found him between sets, splayed out on the ground with a weight still in his hand, head towards the heavy storm proofed glass that made the roof. I purposefully made some noise on my arrival, but he didn’t move, open his eyes, or acknowledge me until I was standing directly over him. I looked down at his flushed face and took in his status.

“Yuy. I hate this fucking place.” He said without even opening his eyes, making my wonder how he knew it was me looming over him.

“Me too.” I remember how just hearing someone I trusted speak, after days of avoiding the other pilots, made me feel suddenly unmoored and needy. Wufei covered his eyes with his arm as if to bock the sun, but the slightly tinted glass made that unnecessary, so it read as pure escapism. As if he could rub reality away if he could just physically block it from his eyes.

Eventually, after a deep and heavy breath, he peeked out from behind his arm. He was wearing an expression that I now know is him in absolute mischief. It’s a challenging smirk that cracks into a smile and is the precursor to either his most salacious ideas, or merciless competitive sporting in whatever game he can convince a sorry opponent to engage in. I didn’t know yet that sex and sport are pretty close for him, and instead was just startled by the intensity of his gaze and how it pierced through the fog of disconnection I had been in.

“Yuy.”

“Yeah?”

“Lets spar.”

“Yeah.”

We stared at each other for a moment, and then went to the mats in a rush, eyes locked nearly the whole time as we traveled across the gym. I remember the manic look across his features and giddy little roll his shoulders when we took position. The facility was large, and the windows were open, letting in the roar of the ocean.

“Ready?” He said, and I gave a short nod.

We beat the shit out of each other.

I couldn’t tell how long we danced. We managed to pull our punches enough not to break any bones, but he got a jab on my face that made my vision blur, and I bled just above my eyebrow. He took a few to the ribs that would bruise almost immediately, and a split lip that tinged his teeth with a rose marbling. I called it when we started grappling, I tapped out on the mat and he sprung off me immediately, completely worn and out of breath, drenched in sweat. He offered his hand and started chucking as he helped me up. I realized I had tossed my shirt, after he grabbed and ripped it, and his hair came loose at some point when I wrestled him down. He wiped blood from his lips on to his over saturated tank and I wiped blood from my brow and looked my crimson covered hand. At that point all I remember is the laughter. We clasped each others shoulders and walked out of the gym holding each other like we were shitfaced, cackling like we had just heard the best joke in the universe, and stayed that way until we reached the shower stalls on the beach.

The chucking died off as we washed off in our separate stalls, but the relief I felt stayed. When we got out Wufei tossed me a smile that, even through a split lip, struck me as brilliantly handsome.

Duo and Trowa were waiting for us around the corner. Apparently, Duo witnessed our shambling parade to the shower and stole supplies to patch us up, concerned the visual of us might alarm staff. I studied Duo's expression as he stitched my brow and sealed it. I was still hyper aware, still full of adrenaline, sitting on a bench while he stood over me. I remember that he was also shirtless, and his hair was soaked and dripping with sea water. The sun had made the light patterning of freckles over his shoulders more apparent. There was a wicked old scar that traced from his collar bone all the way down his sternum that I had never seen before. Quatre appeared with fresh towels, and I put together that Duo had spotted us from the ocean while he was swimming on his own. He sounded the alarm.

“Y’all cant scrap like this too much.” Duo said it directly to me but Wufei grunted next to me in acknowledgement too. “They don’t understand what it feels like. They’ll just see it as violent.”

“Sorry.” I sometimes dream that in that moment I put my hands around his waist and pull him close to me, but instead I just looked at him, bewildered by how soft his expression was when I apologized. He wipes my face off with a clean fluffy towel, and by instinct I pushed my head into the touch.

“S’ok. We’ll tell them it was in good sport. Maybe they’ll listen.”

That night we all ate together. Duo said that seeing us all being friendly would make it hard for our detractors to convince the others that this fight was some big rift. I think he expected us all to brush him off, but there had already been some subtle shift in the tide, it wasn’t forced. The rest of us were in denial that this was a dangerous place if we didn’t play our cards right, but Duo seemed to know from day one. He said it aloud and made it feel real, and we entered survival mode. Still, that wasn’t the day the deal was struck.

It was two days later.

I’d seen Quatre all morning, in passing, looking hectored, glued to his phone on frantic calls, hand running through his hair, which was starting to get a long and shaggy. I sat with Trowa over breakfast, and learned that he was needing to attend to a wedding for one of his sisters, the arrangements for such having gotten lost in all our court proceedings. This all seems a bit dramatic, but normal. We just assume after a few more hours of seeing him pace on the phone, the money would be moved enough for him to have his flights and be on his way out by morning.

Then, we sit in a meeting with Dr. Oz. It was a usual time for us all to sit and discuss the schedule for the next week, but previously it was the art therapist who did this job. Quatre came in late, apologetic, and sat next to Trowa. All of us were in a row, facing this woman like she was our geometry teacher and we were all in detention.

“Sorry I’m late. Having a bit of a day here.” Quatre said in a light way, but with an exhale of exasperation to it. Dr. Oz had a strange smile on her face.

“You’re leave approval has been denied.” She said resolutely, staring at Quatre. Duo put his hand to his mouth to stifle a tiny surprised gasp.

“…I’m sorry, what?”

“You’re leave has been denied.” She repeats, and a new version of Quatre appears, smiling charmingly through his exhaustion.

“Oh my! By who, Gabriella? I’m sure I can work things out if I-”

“Mr. Winner. If you think your wealth is going to allow you to weasel out of the obligation you have to the people to serve out your mandated care, you are sorely mistaken. You’re here for monitoring, and we’re no where near done assessing your danger to society. I have scheduled group therapy starting tomorrow, and you are to attend. Unless you’d like me to write up your non-commitment to your sentence to the higher court?”

I will never forget the sequence of expressions that passed over Quatre’s face as he processed what she said to him. She crossed her arms as he offered one huffing laugh. His eyes went wide in confusion, then his brow furrowed in in frustration. He looked at the table, and then at his own hands, then out at the ocean for a long moment and then back at her. He gave her the hardest stare you could imagine someone of Quatre’s stature and usual friendliness could give someone. He licked his back teeth and I wondered if I was about to watch him maul her. He stared at her in silent, long unblinking eye contact. He stood up and braced himself with his hands on the table. Dr. Oz tried to appear unfazed, but her smile faltered and she leaned slightly back, unconsciously.

“When is group therapy?”

“Tomorrow. 1pm.”

Quatre is out the door before any of us can say a word. He didn’t slam it it, and his chair didn’t even squeak on the floor when he pushed it out. He gave her one last glare through the window while he stalked off in the direction of the beach. We all looked back at our enemy, who thought she’d made a good play but was perhaps a bit in over her head. Trowa looked particularly unimpressed.

“Yes. well.” She cleared her throat. “I suppose he thinks his affairs are more important than all of yours? Anyway, you all have your schedules. You’re dismissed.”

We quietly got up and filed out slowly, exchanging coded glances. She chose the wrong target. I remember thinking that as we all walked to the beach together. Even then I knew that Quatre was easy to underestimate, but not to be trifled with. I knew how she had made the mistake, she wanted one of us to break, why not aim for the rich boy? The one who people speculate never actually fought in the war, accusing that he just paid someone to pilot his suit. It’s easy to rattle a spoiled brat, play with their ego, emphasize their otherness to a group of people they perceive as beneath them. Quatre had been cheery and pleasant to everyone he encountered on the island, and he pulled every string he could to afford us luxuries while we were there. Perhaps she thought he would throw a tantrum at the first thing that didn’t go his way. She thought this would be trivial enough and she could manipulate that in her favor, make us all hate him. But she was mistaken.

We found Quatre sitting on the beach, staring at the ocean. Duo reached him first, plopping down next to him, slinging his arms around his pale shoulders immediately. We all got close and crouched around him in a huddle, but no one said anything for a long time. Quatre looked less like he was upset and more like he was running an equation in his head, and without his charming smile it was a little alarming.

“So.” Duo said, low and serious in a way that he’d been steeped in the whole time we’d been trapped there. “Whatever that lady’s problem is, she’s going to make it our problem. This is small, but she played her first hand. Its going to get worse, she’s going to try harder.”

“What the fuck is wrong with her?” Wufei said with the edge of incredulousness he’d not been able to shake since he’d arrived.

“Donno. Doesn’t matter. Here’s the deal. No matter what they dig up, no matter how hard she tries to pit us against each other, we keep it together, we hold each other up, and we get off of this rock together. Deal?”

Quatre broke from his trance to turn his gaze on Duo, he pushed his hand into his hair. He pulled them so close together, as if to kiss, but just held him there while he stared hard into his eyes.

“Deal.”

(Heero finishes his ruminating here. He wraps up his task, joining Wufei who was cleaning up the last evidence of their tampering with the condo. He expects his partner to be annoyed with how long the windows took, but instead finds him cocking his head at him, expression unreadable. He tries to ask what’s up, but Wufei initiates the routine “who’s driving” argument as a distraction. He has a slight tingle on the back of his neck, like he’s missing something, but he chalks it up to having been in his head for so long. He swipes his car keys with still unmatched reflexes)

Wufei

My boyfriend is being a little bitch in the sporting goods store, and I’m positively fucking livid about it. I’m almost as mad at him as I am at myself for letting this bullshit happen. Duo has been here for three weeks, and everything is going seemingly well, then it snows. We’ve got fourteen inches on the ground and Heero discovers that the boots purchased for Duo are not completely waterproof and “tundra rated”. Now I’m standing in a store in the fucking suburbs, after an annoying drive through slush and ice, unsure why my supervision is at all required. I’m watching the pickiest asshole in the fucking solar system examine stitching on every boot in this shitty, already ransacked shoe department.

“You have better aesthetics than I do. He won’t wear them if they are ugly. Please come with me?” He said it to me so sweetly and I fucking fell for it, like a fucking dope. And so here I am. I’ve already approved three boots that didn’t pass inspection. Its been a goddamn hour.

I fiddle on my phone as I sit and wait, wondering if I can turn this into some fun, maybe shove him into a changing room. Heero would not describe himself as an exhibitionist, but the first time we ever fucked was in a empty Preventers gym, and I have been teasing out his attraction to danger ever since.

He’s fun to tease. He's my strongest opponent in every arena I've managed to wrangle him into. He's bested me in every sparing match. He taps out when the only way for him to win is to actually hurt me, which he refuses to do. His control is unparalleled, so teasing him is an irresistible challenge. He's cute when he blushes, and these days I am the reigning champion of making Heero Yuy blush.

“I've narrowed it down to two.” He says. He comes over to where I'm sitting and presents them to me. He knows I’m annoyed, but he’s gotten pretty good at ignoring my temper completely, the fucker.

“These ones.” I point to the ones with slightly elevated heels, “They'll make his ass look great.”

“Hmm.” He’s pretending that didn’t land but he purposefully doesn’t look at my face, to avoid allowing me to start unraveling him. He’s lucky I want to get out of here.

“He’ll love them.” I sweeten up a bit, so he knows I’m not just teasing him. Duo doesn’t need the extra height, but he will look nice in the boots. Though, he’s going to hate having three pairs. As far as I’m aware, he refused to throw out his old ones.

“…Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, you pain in the ass.”

I’ve never been able to pull as honey sweet a tone as Heero has learned to, but it was enough to get us moving. We purchase the boots and start heading home and I cool off as I get further away from suburban hell. I am studying his far away expression while he drives.

He has been incredibly lost in thought since this whole Duo thing developed. He’s been troubled since he told me about his attraction, afraid I’ll be upset, afraid that Duo will hate him, afraid that he is being too weird and not understanding social norms by sharing this with me. I’m not sure where the fear comes from, I’m pissy about a lot of things, but I’ve never been the jealous type. He knows that most of my sexual history is hookups at cruising spots after I joined preventers, I’ve never been ashamed of it.

When we get home, he places the boots neatly by the door so we remember to take them to the office tomorrow. He draws his hands into himself and has a concerned look on his face, like a nervous kid. It is this vulnerability that has been so fascinating to me, I have been trying to puzzle it out. What do I owe to Duo, I wonder, for drawing this nature out of him?

“Is it okay that I bought these?” Its funny he’s asking now, after a full afternoon of bullshit to get them. I cant help but laugh.

“Yes, Heero. Its fine. He might be a bit exhausted that we keep buying him things, but I’d also prefer he not have soggy wet socks in the office.”

“No. I’m not asking about Duo.”

“Oh?”

“I… is it okay that I’ve been buying him things?” Heero always approaches these conversations by way of his actions. Its always ‘did I hurt you?’ ‘have I misunderstood?’. He’s dancing around whatever its been that he’s really afraid of, what he’s actually feeling.

“Yes. Have I ever not told you when I’m upset?”

“No. You mostly talk about being upset.” Wow, what a cunt.

“So, what are you afraid of?”

“Loosing you.”

“Is that really all?”

“Is that not enough?”

I close the gap between us and bury my face in his neck. I put my arms around him and hold firm until he breathes enough to loose his stiffness. I wait for him to embrace me with the same force. Sometimes I wonder what specifically broke in him after our island prison sentence that makes him so frightened, but if I examine it too hard, I know its the same part that’s broken in me.

“I'm not going anywhere.” hearing this makes him sigh out some of the anxiety. We're not the most romantic of couples, but my commitment to him is unwavering. I have a ring in a box of keepsakes from L5 that is destined for his finger, but he doesn't know that yet. I have been waiting for us to feel settled, and now I have to wait and see if we are, in fact, some sort of trio. It doesn't matter to me in the way he seems to think it will.

I lost an entire nation of people, I lost my partner, my clan, my identity, my hope. I put everything into fighting for this peace. I expected to come out of it alone, with only the honor of my victory to keep me company, if I survived it at all. I grappled with the reality of loneliness even before the end of the war. This is my family now. They are all I have, and I don’t care what form it takes, I don’t care what configuration it needs to be in. I will not let my family, my home, slip away from me again.

My thoughts were loud, it seems. Heero has calmed himself and pulled away slightly. He traces his thumb along my jaw and contemplates my face. He gives that smarmy fucking smile that convinced me to jump him in the gym two years ago.

“You promise?”

“Yes.” I’ve never meant it more in my life.

Heero kisses me and pushes me towards the bedroom, as if I’d relinquish to him. I allow it because its hot to know how very powerful he is physically. Once we are there, I take him apart like I always do. I pull his hair and push him down, and make him forget, make him let go. I assert that as much as he can protect me from danger, I can provide my devotion. Dominating him is not an exercise in force as much as is it a practice in patience, a study of him. I try to understand his unspoken fears, I try to feel his anxiety and free him from it. I remind him that even if he outmatches me in strength, it is just by a fraction. I try to express, while I’m fucking him into our mattress, that if its another person he needs in his life, I will find a way to make it happen.

It’s not until he’s satiated, asleep against my ribs, that I let my mind wander to what this really means for us. Of course I’m also nervous, hoping that I’m not wrong in who I believe Maxwell to be. I hope I’m not over estimating what we are capable of, as men and lovers.

My assumptions are not without evidence, though. I start to run my schedule for tomorrow in my head. I try to focus on the drills I need to put our newest recruits through, and the quiet review of files that will outline most of my day, but I find my thoughts drifting instead. By the time Heero is softly snoring, I can see Duo on the beach, clear as day, in my memory.

COURT AND INCARCERATED GROUP THERAPY

(As remembered by Wufei, as he somewhat restlessly tries to fall asleep, lost in thought while embraced by his partner.)

Its hard to describe how fucking dejected was during all the court proceedings. We were paraded around as heroes for a few weeks after the ceasefire, then immediately tossed under the bus for war crimes, offered up as political sacrifice to start real negotiations. The public had already gotten their time and our legal proceedings were quiet, locked down things.

I remember Quatre getting us fitted for a set of basic suits for the weeks to come. I remember wondering what he was gaining from it. Looking in the mirror at myself in my freshly tailored jacket with the still healing scars across my face from one of our very last scraps made me feel truly disconnected from reality. Was it really over? How had I survived?

Heero was endeared to Duo during our island prison sentence, but I was enamored by him much earlier. We were sitting in a dingy earth court hall, heavy woods and decades old carpet, Duo and I were alone while some part of a hearing or another happened. I was particularly fucking miserable and wasn’t coping well, caged in a shitty shrine to terrestrian power. I looked at my fellow captive and thought of the other time we were locked up together. Maybe the air was being sucked out of the hall, too.

“Have you ever been in court before, Maxwell?” I asked, to break up the silence. He snickered and looked at me, he was slouching with his long legs splayed out and his hands in his pockets. He would have look like a normal bored college kid if he didn’t have deep purple rings around his eyes and an all black tailored suit that was probably worth more than our combined bank accounts.

“Wu, I’ve been to juvie. ‘Course I’ve been to court.”

“I don’t know what “juvie” is.” He snickered at me again, but it didn’t really feel malicious.

“Seems like we’re all about to find out.”

“Ominous.”

“You’re tellin’ me, buddy.” He looked up at a painting of some long dead judge, old as fucking dirt, and it seemed like he would spit on it if I weren’t there. Not that I would have stopped him. “You think Q-man will let us keep the suits?”

“Winner has no need for suits tailored to us.”

“True. You look hot in yours.” I remember throwing him an uncertain look, having never been complimented on my appearance by a man so frankly before, and he just flashed a grin at me that was positively devilish. He was called to go up to the judge, and I was left there to contemplate how strange existence was.

Over our time through legal, Duo told me little bits about his past, and I told him little bits about mine. He would murmur with me quietly, over stale bottled water in humid court holding pens. I learned of his juvenile detention and the foster homes, the loss of his only family and the church. I filled in the gaps of what he knew of the loss of L5 and my wife.

He sought out my company more than any of the others, unaffected by my shitty disposition, maybe even amused by it. After a few days, I was managing to make him laugh and feeling quite good about it. It felt like through him I was starting to develop a better rapport with the others, but it was slow.

There was some additional familiarity he had with Quatre. I would find them dosing while draped over one another sometimes, mutually worn down. Sometimes they were just leaning in close together while Quatre ran his finger down a paper in Duo’s hands, explaining some terms or debating a clause. Witnessing the deep trust between them is what started my wondering, maybe these were my people, and not just my allies?

The folding knife I gave him was from L5. I gave it to him late one evening, back at the hotel after the court finally gave us a solid timeline. It was almost over. When we figured out we only had a week more of deliberation, he threaded his fingers in my back belt loop and yanked me into him for a sideways hug. Duo is tall, and so this squished me right into his pectoral and mussed up my hair. I must have turned crimson and looked as shocked as I felt, as he came to my room later with a small bottle of my favorite whiskey, looking sheepish.

The knife wasn't really a keepsake that had personal meaning, it just carried the craftsmanship of one of our artisans. It was uncharacteristic and oddly impulsive of me to give it him. He was apologizing for being handsy, for treating me like he did Quatre. I was desperate in that moment to express that while I had not asked for closeness, I needed it, I wanted it. I placed it in his hands and clasped them in mine and told him it was his.

I remember trying to give him a confident smile but feeling real fucking dorky. I felt like he couldn’t possibly understand how sincere I was being, how much I needed it. In the ensuing months, I would realize I’d underestimated him.

Heero often talks about how Duo knew we were in danger before the rest of us. I resent that, I don’t think any of us were exactly comforted by the isolation in the tropics. But, I have to admit that Duo had this strange air about him from day one. Duo had lost all of that cheerful, goofy guy demeanor I associated with him outside of his gundam.

Duo and I did not stop our friendly banter upon arrival, but I noticed his stress. He kept asking me about my sessions, trying not to be invasive, but angling to figure out who was asking about what. By the time time the deal was struck, he had his targets laid out. We walked out of our first group session with the esteemed Dr. Gabriella Baker rattled, but not because we weren’t expecting it to be insufferable.

“Fuck this, fuck her.” Duo hissed, stomping out of the facilities, I remember the dead serious look on his face, a stark contrast to the show he has just been putting on in therapy. He had been running his mouth to run down the clock, full clown mode. “What the hell was in the court records, and why were they released to her? This is horseshit.”

“Duo.” Heero said in his level tone, “I’m alright.” But he wasn’t.

Duo broke up the session because he had started trembling. She was needling about J, and went as far as to refer to medical records, implying abuse, fishing for trauma. It did seem suspicious for her have that information. Heero has a whole map of scars across his body from the procedures and testing he went through, and of all the things he is mostly silent on, I’ve never even heard him even whisper about them. Whatever systematic prodding this woman had subjected him to over these weeks had been degrading his resolve. He was disturbed by the reality that we were trapped and discarded, children veterans of no real us to society now that our time in the lime light was over. She even mentioned that Relena was in a new relationship, like a real catty bitch.

“We did release some information about the operation,” Quatre started, thoughtfully “in one of the conditions of our sentencing. I’m not sure the records should have extended to J though, I’m not really sure how they could have, even.”

“This is a shit show.” Duo spat, and I generally agreed with his assessment.

“We’re going to figure this out.”

“We’re going to get the fuck out of here!” Duo wasn’t quite yelling, but he sounded panicked and cornered. Quatre grabbed Duo’s face and pulled him close.

“We’re going to do both.”

We spent the next couple weeks in equally targeted sessions, going around with nuggets of information that were personal and unnerving. I started drinking in Duo’s room at night after we all ate dinner together, sitting against his wall until I felt like I could go back to my room and sleep. Quatre and Trowa had stopped pretending that they weren’t together, and went back to their shared room after dinner every night. We always offered that Heero come with us, but he would silently shake his head and go stare at the ocean instead.

Duo was furious. A slow burning anger that was consuming him, it made him look a decade older, and it played over his features suddenly sometimes. When he realized something new about our captors or when he saw one of us succumb to our memories and trauma, a sour expression would curl up his features, and he would seem far away. He would sit by Heero and talk to him so gently, knowing that his voice was soothing, and that Heero needed the company despite his gloomy demeanor. He endured glares and silent treatments with the patience of a saint.

After the tenth session, Heero finally joined us late that night. Duo had disassembled the two twin beds in his room and placed the mattresses on the floor. The rickety metal frames were neatly packed in his closet. His space was transformed into a messy den of blankets, and a scattering of stolen electronics that he was occupying himself by tinkering with. Heero knocked with his randomized pattern, and let himself in. I was trying to read, but at that moment I was on my third beer and probably decently toasty, Duo paused his soldering, but didn't look at him.

“Something up?” Duo said, so calmly.

“Can’t sleep.”

“Something happen?”

“No. Paranoid, though.”

“Ok. We’ve got first watch.” Duo pat the bed behind him and Heero kicked off his shoes, ditched his shirt crawled into it behind him like he’d done it a thousand times before. He put his back against the wall and curled up around Duo’s sitting form, like a giant prawn.

“You can sleep too. I just… need people with me.”

“No problem, buddy.” And Duo resumed tinkering. A moment passed before he looked at me. “You staying too?”

“Sure.” He tossed a pillow at me, and pulled something that looked suspiciously like his suit out of his duffel to use as a pillow for himself. It was all rolled up, though.

It is this interaction that is burned into my memory when I think about the three of us. I finished my beer and Heero had drifted off into a restless sleep. Duo cleared his mess off the mattress so I could curl up on the edge of it. I felt Heero tremor, he gasped unconsciously and started to contort, his hands were up by his face, shaking and locking each knuckle enough that a few popped. Duo leaned over him and rubbed his back, right between his shoulders.

“Shhh, buddy. You’re not alone. Your friends are here.” He said low and even, and then started to hum, something familiar and probably Christian that I’d heard him hum many times before. Heero gradually calmed down, soaking in the tender touch without waking. Duo looked over at at me, but in the dim light I must have appeared asleep. Quietly to himself, he said “I don’t care what it takes.” and smoothed Heero’s hair.

He turns off the light and settles in between us. By the time my eyes adjusted to the moonlight, Heero had signed and shifted, putting a heavy arm around Duo’s middle. He had threaded their fingers together. There was a shiny shimmer on Duo’s cheeks. Perhaps it was the beer, but my hand moved on its own to wipe away the wetness, and I saw the gleam of his eyes in the dark, fixed on me. It seemed again, so unlike me at the time, so outside my body, but I leaned into him and ghosted a kiss on his lips, and he returned with one of his own, soft and tender with just a touch more pressure. I pressed my forehead to his.

We fell asleep and never spoke of the kiss. In the morning as we were silently leaving, I threaded my finger through his belt loop on his shorts and pulled him for a hug. His expression warmed up and he squeezed me back.

“A deals a deal.”

(Wufei finally drifts off to sleep, holding onto his partner. He’s thinking, as he sometimes does, of the sounds of waves crashing and a hum to the tune of ‘I’ll Fly Away’, the lyrics for which he’s never heard, but a melody that he would carry with him the rest of his life)

Trowa

Everyone is being a little dumb right now. I waited two months into Duo’s new employment to find an excuse to go over there. I still do the occasional contract for Preventers, it was a concession Quatre gave into eventually. I promised I would never take up excessively dangerous work, or a contract longer than 2 weeks, and he tries not to think about it too much. It mostly works.

I’ve already completed my two day contract and turned in my intel and reports. Easy work. Wufei is training up quality recruits, but sometimes a trusted, trained eye is worth all my extra fees. None of us really do much in the field anymore, just recon here and there. The trio is mostly office bound, managing personnel for Wufei and a ton of hacking for Duo and Heero. Apparently they have become quite an unstoppable force already, complimentary skills that are just different enough.

Quatre is up on L1 attending to one of the many wings of his empire. It’s the perfect time to come and scope out how badly everyone is communicating here at the cop circus. I don't have the texting relationships that my partner manages to maintain, but I can get Wufei ranting on one drink a game of pool. I'd rather see them in person anyway, I'm better at assessing when I can see their faces.

They are being dumb as hell though. Why is everyone tip toeing around Duo’s feelings like he’s a lost child? He's the one who nursed Heero through half of his recovery, do they really think just the mere suggestion of a poly relationship is going to make him drop dead? I know he’s got a touch of that Christian guilt in him, but I just don’t see it. Most of his angst is entirely self facing and manageable, in my experience.

I get that we all thought Hilde would work out. We were happy for him, but it was bittersweet. He was going to stay in space, and by some strange turn, we are all are mostly on earth. We we're going to see him less and less. Quatre went through all the stages of grief with not having his friend nearby, and then he landed in our laps. Now everyone is acting like if we make the wrong move, instead of just going back to L2, he’s going to launch himself into the sun. It’s ridiculous.

I’m navigating the labyrinth that is Preventers HQ, heading strait for the office the three of them now share to kill a few hours. Its the weekend, so the halls are empty, and the office should be empty too. I could go walk about town on my own, but I cant bring myself to bother to without Quatre at my side.

I knock out of habit. When I open the door, I’m glad I did. Duo is sitting there, a mildly concerned look on his face, a hand hovering over his gun. It only takes him a second to register that its me.

“Tro’!” He brightens up in a way that makes my heart skip. I truly understand why Hilde became so insecure at the end of their relationship. Duo has become this tall, lithe thing that seems to barely contain his energy, he radiates magnetism. He bounds over to me and I wrap him up in my arms. I lift him up, since I’m the only pilot that still has an inch over him, and it always makes him chuckle warmly.

“Hey, friend.”

“What are you doing here? I thought you were going to hang out with Wuffles?”

“How are you alive, calling him Wuffles?”

“Aw, Wuffles is all bark.” This is not true. Wufei is the only one of us who hits the gym like if another war breaks out he will win by benching it. I’ve seen him spar, he has only gotten stronger now that were all eating and sleeping regularly. I think he’s also snorting protein powder.

I put Duo down, and its only then that I take in what he’s wearing. Under his preventers jacket, he’s wearing street clothes. All black, of course, but he’s got a sleeveless sweater tank with gold earrings… and a leather dog collar on. Interesting. I’ll tackle that in a minute.

“What are you doing here? Working overtime?”

“Aahn, no. The condo is… too quiet sometimes.” He goes to sit, starts bouncing his leg, quickly redirecting. “The boys fixed it all up for me, you know?”

“Yes, I know.”

“Heero told me it was all company provided.” He chuckles. “He doesn’t know that Wufei ratted out his living conditions to us when they started dating, I guess?”

“Probably not. He did know we were being overbearing enough, though. Trying to take the edge off it.” Duo smiles at this and shakes his head.

“Just stop buying me boots. They are too heavy to fit in my bag.”

“Please tell me you’re not living out of the bag still.”

“Hmm.” Him and Heero have the same dismissive-ass non-verbal answers when they are not interested in an opinion on something, and it drives me up a wall. His smile and wrinkled nose tell me he’s still in good humor though, so I pose a question.

“So. Is the collar standard issue?” The slight flush of pink that washes over him is too cute.

“Har har. No. There’s a poetry night at that hippy bar.”

“The little one with the coffee shop attached?” It’s a cozy heritage gay bar that’s been in the city for a century.

“That one! Oh shit, is Wuffy meeting you here?”

“Yes? Why?”

“Last time they walked in on me with the collar on, I was also in the mesh tank Q got me, and boy, did they look embarrassed as hell.”

“Embarrassed?”

“Yeah, Heero was beet red and Wu had that deer in headlights look on him.” I start to laugh because I just cant help it. Duo is smiling but he’s cocking his head at me, wondering what precisely I’m laughing at.

“I don’t think they were embarrassed.” I puff out.

“You didn’t see them!”

“God, why do I love you dummies.” I start rubbing my face to keep me from blurting out any more. I want to just tell him that I’m sure Wufei was barely containing the urge to pin him down, yank his collar, and fuck his brains out. Heero probably completely short circuited, which is also hilarious. Why are they are being so stupid about this.

“Anyway… think I can jump in your cab? It’s on the same side of town as Wu’s pool spot.”

“I’m sure its fine.”

He smiles and settles back into whatever he was clacking away on. I sit on the couch and start trying to devise a plan. At least I have a some information to work with, but there’s some things to overcome.

Duo being in the office on the weekend is a little weird, but I think this is the first time he’s lived in a stable place alone. I spy his duffel in the corner, so he might be sleeping here when he feels too insecure. That’s bad.

We have been getting a steady stream of texts from him, and through Quatre I know that he's patched up somewhat with Hilde. At least enough that they are officially broken up and he is starting to explore his new life with closure. That’s good.

I study him as he taps at the keys of his laptop, probably infiltrating a system for fun. I notice a pallet of eye makeup on his desk and lipstick. He seems pretty comfortable here at least. His energy is calm and I don’t sense that looming darkness he sometimes has over him. That’s good too.

Aside from that, Duo knows that his friends are in a committed relationship and has probably not considered that they would be interested in something more than traditional monogamy. That’s something I can let slip without causing too much trouble. Easy.

Wufei is probably paralyzed with doubt, because instead of drowning himself in sorrow and isolation, like Heero did when he got here, Duo is socializing like a normal human and making friends. If any of us are capable of dating a civilian, its probably Duo. If they don’t say something, he’s going to assume that’s his only option. Not ideal.

I can only imagine he already has suitors, if he’s going to poetry nights at the gay hippy bar. He might even find someone latchkey enough to not care about his inability to unpack his trauma duffel bag. Maybe.

As much as I don’t really want to meddle, I feel like letting this potential relationship pass them all by without even talking is just too asinine. Duo is perfectly capable of rebuffing attraction he’s not interested in, he does it practically everyday.

I drum my fingers on my thigh and think, listening to Duo type and the low din of the industrial heat blowing through the vents. After a few minutes of my quiet contemplation, he gives me a look.

“Buddy. What the hell are you plotting?”

“Nothing, friend.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t have to.” I need to open up my options before I can properly plot. “When is poetry night?”

“Starts at ten.”

“Kill time with us at the pool hall? I’ll buy you a drink.” His eyes narrow, but I don’t actually care if I’m being suspicious. I want him to work this out.

“Alrighty. I’m not playing though, Wu gets all pissy.”

“Sure thing.”

Duo

I’m not really sure how my night ended up like this. I was going to the hippy bar, and now I’m swirling a glass of whiskey, nursing it, in the dark pool hall 4 blocks down. The place is nearly empty, with the old couple at the bar paying us zero mind. I’ve been watching Tro’ swindle Wuffles out of 100 bucks, and poor Wu cannot stand to loose. Of all the games he can’t help but be competitive in, he sucks at pool the most.

Wu descends into a string of strong profanities in a few different languages as Tro’ sinks the eight ball. I watch them deliberate over another round from the deteriorating booth in the corner. Tro’ has nothing better to do, but he makes it seem like he’s considering calling it a night to keep him riled up. They both have these doofy smiles on.

“Duo, tell this fucking clown he can’t retire yet.”

“Are we gonna get in trouble with Q if we keep you up past your bedtime?” I ask sweetly, and Tro’ just snorts at me and walks to the bar to get another round of drinks and restart the table. I’m surprised I haven’t left yet, but there’s something so familiar about seeing them together that haven’t been motivated to move. Wu slides in the booth still cussin’ under his breath, he swings his arm around me and starts looking at his phone. The weight of his arm on my shoulders dissolves any doubt, I haven’t left because I couldn’t possibly want to.

The condo is cold and feels empty. Even with the TV on, music playing, and the window cracked to let in noise from the café, It feels somehow silent. Looking at empty doorways makes me twitch. It feels like I should hear Hilde clanging things together just on the other side of the wall. I long to hear Quatre’s soft bubbly laughter while he listens to one of his terrible gossip shows.

I keep leaving and sitting quietly in the back of the hippy bar, because the college kids just shyly complement my earrings and run off blushing, never interrogating me further. I like the poetry, but its not really about that. For a couple hours I am just one of them. Not a freak who cant seem to stop checking his locks and put a motion sensor on all the entrances of his shared building.

I’ve been sleeping in the office just to relieve my paranoia. HQ is so locked down and such a maze in the interior that it’s impenetrable. The heavy sounds of the old vents feel like the roaring circulation of a salvage ship, as a bonus. The gym has a shower and endless hot water. It makes me feel so guilty that I’ve been sleeping better in the corner of the office with my bag as a pillow, like the duct rat that I am, than I ever did in bed with Hilde.

Trowa fucking caught me, though. I saw him eyeing my bag, stewing in his thoughts. I’d be lucky if there’s not a concerned text already sent. Once the ‘I think Duo is sleeping in the office’ code yellow is out, Heero will be shoving me into their coupe, that barely has a back seat, every night after work to escort me to the condo. Heero has softened considerably over the years, but he drives like a fucking maniac.

I am contemplating how to keep my rat nest, when I hear the table rumble and drop balls for the next round. Tro’ sets a few glasses down in front of us and starts setting up the game. Wu leans into my ear.

“I’ll give you thirty dollars to take stilts out at the knees when he calls a hole.”

“No can do, buddy. You just gotta eat shit and loose.”

“Com’on, I thought we’re supposed to look out for each other.” He lifts himself up to take his shot.

It’s about ten minutes into this next game when Heero walks in, and I suspect that Tro’ really was plotting something. Heero is not a bar guy. He doesn’t drink and eleven really is past his bed time. I’m star struck as soon as I see him. The same flutter I got when I received a post card from him all those years ago now, I now feel every time he appears in a room.

He hugs Trowa, kisses Wu on the cheek (who just huffs in response, since he’s already loosing), and comes to sit with me. He’s got a soda can, which is pretty crazy. He’s become a bit of a health nut, but I guess even retired super soldiers can have a pop now and then. He clambers into the booth and hugs me, and I melt into it like I always do.

“Well, this is a nice surprise.” I say when he releases me, and I swear he looks bashful at the comment. “What did Tro’ bribe you with to get you out of the house?”

“No bribes needed.”

“I don’t believe either of you.”

“He said you would be here too, and I like spending time with you.”

“Aw, buddy.” Sometimes Heero is so sincere it truly grips my heart. Despite myself, I rest my head on his. I have been trying to make sure I keep a distance from my two ridiculously hot friends, as to not impose on their relationship, but I’ve not been very successful.

I thought when I came here I would be avoiding the lovebirds completely. I planned to isolate myself while I licked my wounds and tried to figure out how I fucked up so bad with Hilde. Instead, from day one I’ve been being fretted over. They embrace me tightly every time I see them. Heero has started making me lunch so I don’t eat the cafeteria food too much. I think about what it would be like to have them curl up with me on the couch to watch a movie, but I haven’t dared to ask. I just don’t know what to do with myself. Maybe I never will.

Quatre calls, momentarily breaking up the game, and my thoughts. Tro’ goes outside so he can pace in the cold and chat. I can see him through the window, looking up at the sky wistfully and with that happy-sleepy look he gets when he gets caught up on Q’s day. It washes over me that, I know that look because I’ve spent so much time with them. I can imagine Tro’s hushed laughter and short answers even though I cant actually hear him through the thick glass. I can see his sparkling amusement in his eyes, thanking the universe for granting us this moment in time, despite everything we’ve done, despite everything we’ve gone through. It doesn’t seem like we should be able to drink at bars and hug each other, it doesn’t seem like our circumstances should allow this at all. I watch Trowa, looking at flurries in the streetlights, grinning at something his wonder-boy partner said, and feel a question forming in my head. Like I’ve been missing something.

“He’s stalling.” Wu has plopped down in the booth next to me, sandwiching me between him and the immovable wall that Heero is. “That fucker.”

“Why would he stall when you’re loosing?” Heero says flatly. “How much is on this game?”

“One hundred.”

“Would you please stop betting with our rich friends?”

“Not until I win.” Wu leans in close to me again, but he doesn’t have something else to bet, so he just gives a heavy, contented sigh, and puts his arm on my shoulders once more. Without thinking, I put my arm around his waist like I’ve done with Q a thousand times. I’m rewarded with a low chuckle in my ear. I don’t really have time to process this before Tro’ is back at the table and grabbing his cue.

Tro has this terribly punchable face when something he’s planned has all come together, he’s holding his expression like he’s trying not to laugh, and he’s looking right at me as he walks over. He slams the last of his drink.

“I’ve got to head back to the hotel.” he says in a way that makes me think he doesn’t at all have to do that. He’s making direct eye contact with me now.

“Fuck you, we’re finishing this game you coward! It’s your turn, dick.” Wu barks, his hot breath is on my neck.

“No problem.” Trowa takes an overly dramatic dancers step back to the table, lines up his cue, and takes three perfect shots. He dramatically calls a hole, flipping the stick like a ringmasters cane, and shoots the eight from behind his back. Wu starts making this protracted, annoyed groan into my shoulder. Tro’ takes a bow. “Just drop the winnings in my account.”

“I hate you, you shit-ass clown.” Which is a funny way to say I love you, isn’t it?

“Good. I’ve already called a cab. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

”We can give you a lift?”

“No thanks. Give Duo a ride back to the office.”

“Huh? I don’t need-” I start, but its too late.

“I assume you want to take your duffel back to your condo.” Wu is right, what a shit-ass clown. I don’t need to look at Heero’s face to know he’s piecing together what this means. I feel the arm on my shoulder squeeze and Wu’s head lift, but he doesn’t say anything. Busted.

Tro’ salutes and saunters out, a car is pulling up for him.

“Goddamnit Trowa.”

We spend the next twenty minutes in the strangest silence. Heero pays the tab, and leads us to the car, and everyone just gets in. I’m not really sure what’s on their minds, but I don’t offer any comments. A whole slew of thoughts speed though my head. I cant run if I don’t have my bag. The only reason this is happening is because everyone I love knows this about me. I am frustrated with my predictability but I am flattered by the fact that they all care enough to notice. I just want to have my rat nest in peace, but I also want someone to adopt me and tell me its ok to stop running. I want to be taken care of, but I desperately, with every fiber of my being, cant stand being a burden on anyone. All of these things are screaming in my head and I’m trying to suppress the want to rock myself. I’m short of breath by the time we come to a stop in the office parking garage.

Heero clicks off the engine, takes a sharp inhale, and turns to me. His gaze makes me sink into the back seat.

“You’re sleeping in the office.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” A good fucking question. I want to answer, but what comes out is a frustrated sigh. I tell myself not to do this, to just talk to my friends, but I’m cornered, and I cant stand being cornered.

“Lemme out.” Heero looks at me suspiciously, but they both exit so that I can scoot over a folded seat. I’m expecting crossed arms and scolding tones when I get out, and I’m ready to go. Ready to tell everyone to fuck off and leave me alone. Ready to fight. When I straiten my back and gain my stature, I look at them standing behind the car next to each other. I am immediately taken aback by Heero’s expression. He’s terrified. He’s got that tremor in his hand that made me almost kill an unarmed therapist on a remote island, and a glossy sheen over his eyes.

“Duo… I… Was it something we did?”

“Huh?”

“To make you feel uncomfortable. In the condo, I mean.”

“No. Heero.”

“We did do some clean up on the condo, I should have said. I was worried.”

“Heero. It’s okay.”

“And, I got worried about the boots. It was a lot of snow. But, its fine if you don’t want them. The pair we bought. They are better, though… objectively better. You should wear them. In the snow at least. But, I should have asked.”

“I like the boots.”

“I hated that condo so much. I hated it and I was alone. It was drafty in the winter, and the café was so loud, and then at night it would close, and then it was so quiet. And there are five entrances to the building if you count the one on the lower apartment balcony, which is too many for such a small building. I hated it so much, and I was just worried that you’d feel the same thing.”

“Its okay.” And I’m walking towards him. I have to stop him from shaking. I can’t be the person making him shake like this. “It’s okay, buddy.”

“You don’t have to stay there, we have room in the house. I didn’t want to pressure you. I don’t want to pressure you. But if you hate the condo, you might leave, and then what? We promised. I promised. To look after you. We promised we’d look after each other.”

“Heero.”

“I care about you so much. Duo I-”

I crush my lips against his. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I think that Wu might be shocked and ready to choke me to death right now, but that is a pretty dim sound compared to the startled and pleased grunt that comes out of Heero’s throat. I feel his arms around my neck and I’m surprised that I can push him, that he’s become loose in my arms. The last coherent thought I have is, I haven’t really kissed anybody in months, and maybe this is going to be the last kiss I ever have.

Might as well enjoy it.

Heero

Duo is making broad, slow strokes with his tongue over mine, pressing me against the sloped back of the trunk of my car. Luckily, the Preventers garage is completely empty on a Saturday night, and we habitually park in the blind spot in the camera feed since Wufei enjoys the occasional after work makeout. I’m taking note of every hitched breath and exhaled moan. I don’t know if this is ever going to happen again, I cant tell yet if this was destructive and impulsive. Right now it doesn’t really matter, the little puffs of air he is panting over my face, and the overwhelming feeling and taste of him, override the need to make any sense.

I feel a hand in my hair and a familiar tug and I know it’s Wufei. I open my eyes to Duo’s painting breath in my right ear, and a strong, disarming gaze from behind him. Duo lifts up a bit and starts to talk. He twists enough to face him, but he’s just as pinned by my partner as I am by him.

“Wu, sorry I just-”

“Shut the fuck up, Maxwell.” he releases his grip from my hair, slips a finger into the metal ring on Duo’s collar and shoves his tongue down his throat in a smooth motion. I feel nails rake down my side, where a hand had found its way under my shirt, and hear a long sobbing whine that is so new to me, that I cant help but stare wide-eyed. I watch them for a moment, pinned, enthralled, relieved, hard. Painfully hard. But as my breathing starts to slow I start to think too.

We can’t rush this, we have to make sure he understands that this isn’t just some hook up. We can’t fuck in the parking lot and then silently walk up to the office like nothing happened. That just wont do. It’s not enough. I have to say something, but by the time a strangled sound comes out of me, Wufei has a hand in both of our heads of hair, though a much softer grip than before.

“You keep it fucking shut too, Yuy.” He’s a gravelly from all the sparring he just did, and Duo just has his eyes closed and his eyebrows scrunched like he does when he’s listening to a song that makes him cry because he likes it so much. He swallows hard and takes a long stuttering exhale.

“But, I-”

“Hush, I said.” Wu has taken that softer tone of command that I’ve grown so accustomed to. “Listen to me, Duo.”

“Hm?” Duo sounds dreamy, floaty.

“Do you have that mesh shirt in your bag, that you had on a few weeks ago?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“You’re going to go up to the office and get your bag. We’re going to wait here in the parking lot. If you come down wearing that mesh shirt, we’re going to take you home with us. When we get there, I’m going to tear it off of you.” he leans into Duo’s ear “And you can keep that bag in our house, your house, as long as you fucking want.”

He backs off of Duo, who looks at me for a moment, taking in whatever state my face must be in.

“Okay.”

“Or. You get your bag, don’t change. We take you back to the condo, we pretend this never happened, and we talk about how to find you a more secure place. It’s up to you.” Duo straitens up and through his tight paints I can see that he’s in the same state I am. He looks wild, like he didn’t process everything that was just said to him, but he backs up until I am cold and alone, propped up on the car.

“Think about it as long as you need to, Duo.” I add, and his haunting eyes capture mine. I wonder what he’s trying to see, and I pray I am showing it to him. He gives Wufei a stare for good measure, his brows still knitted together, then he turns on his heels silently and walks briskly to the building.

I hear the loud metal clunking of the industrial door slamming, and time starts to pass infinitely slower in his absence. Wufei joins me to lean on the trunk. I gradually come out of my haze and turn to him.

“We’re getting hand prints all over my car.”

“Get a grip.” He says sharply, but with a blurt of laughter.

“…Do you think we just fucked this all up?”

“…I hope not.”

In the lateness of the evening, and the now biting cold, our breath is visible. I can see Wufei taking slow, measured, meditative exhales. I rub my hands together and wish I had my gloves on, but I don’t want to scramble around the car to grab them. I stare at the far end of garage and wait.

And wait.

“He could have taken his bag and just walked out the front lobby.” Wufei says, sounding distant. Then the slamming of the door snaps us both to attention. We hear the clicking of heals and Duo walks up to us, taking his time, swinging his hips with a smile on his face. He didn’t just put on the mesh shirt. He’s also got the dark make-up on, and has tied his hair up into a braided bun. The duffle is slung over his shoulders, and he’s walking in the cute boots that Quatre got him, clacking on the concrete and echoing against the barren walls. Some small whirring part my brain wants to scold him for not wearing a coat, but overwhelmingly I just want to draw him into me and warm him back up myself.

He stops in front of us, drops the bag, and cocks his head.

“Couple ground rules.”

“Of course.” Wufei says, calm as ever.

“I like this shirt, so no ripping.”

“Fine.”

“No touching my bag, it stays where I put it.”

“No problem.”

“I… I can really stay? You’re not going to take me back to the condo in the morning? This isn’t some one time, unicorn, bucket list thing?”

“You can stay as long as you want. I’ll clear out the extra bedroom for you so you have your own space. No more condo. We can even talk to Winner and make a plan to bail you out if you change your mind. We’ll keep talking. Ok?”

“I want access to the security system.” They both look at me, but I’ve been staring at Duo’s cold hardened nipples.

“Yeah. Sure. Whatever you want.” I’ve heard everything I need to hear. “Can we please get out of the cold?”

“Full access?”

“Duo, if you let me suck your dick, I'll let you look at the schematics to Wing. I don’t give a shit.” This makes him erupt into a light fit of chuckles that makes my heart sing, but does not damper my impatient need. I do what I've been dreaming of for years, and put my hands on his waist and pull him into me. He still has that scar down his middle, but its harder see now that he lacks the kiss of the island sun all over his skin. I lift the shirt and lick the scar, a long indulgent motion, and I’m rewarded with an actual giggle. I look up quick enough to see it, his face all scrunched up, chattering his teeth with a full body shiver, since he must be freezing. “Get in the car.”

“That’s not how we ask for things, Yuy.”

“Please, get in the fucking car.”

Its not the fastest I’ve ever made the drive, but it’s close. I cut the right corners to have good acceleration but not enough to make Wufei cranky. I’m amazed that they are both too distracted to yell at me for speeding, but I’ll take it. We manage to get in the house and out of our boots with composure. Duo walks casually, his bag glued to him, his socks dampening his steps. He looks up at the vaulted ceiling, the reclaimed woods and all the flourishes that we’ve added over time. He’s been here before, but its like he’s taking it in all anew. We give him space and don’t follow too closely. We shed our coats and Wufei starts quietly turning on a few lights and making things more welcoming.

Duo pads up to the back windows, which look out on a modestly sized, snowed in back garden. He tosses the bag on the couch and stares out at the flurries swirling in the orangey street lamps that line our back fence.

Slowly, I walk up behind Duo and encircle him, no longer able to resist.

“No pressure.” I feel like I have to keep saying it. Maybe a few more times, just to be sure.

“I don’t feel any.” He sounds comfortable, at least. He turns to me and has this sort of wonder in his eyes, but also maybe a touch of disbelief. I can feel the need creeping back into me, but also fear. I cannot bear to damage our relationship. I have to be clear.

“I just need you to know that, if you change your mind about this, I’d still-” Kill for you? Build a new gundam and fight for you? Bail you out of a enemy prison even though my expressed instructions are to eliminate you? Keep myself alive in a surreal prison hellscape for you? I don’t know how to say it all at once.

“I get it.” Duo says, and releases me from having to say more. He has that softened, bewildering expression he wore when I apologized to him on the beach. He’s looking down at me, because he always is a bit, if he’s standing at full height. I put my hand on his neck and pull him in. We start to kiss and he takes over in this sluggish, engrossing way. It doesn’t have the fever that Wufei has when he is truly ready to take control, but it doesn’t have a the passive nature that I’ve assigned to him in my fantasies, either. I wonder if I can begin to understand him, if he’ll give me the time to try.

Eventually we break off of each other and I turn to find Wufei for assurance. He’s leaning against the wall, in the threshold of the hallway that leads to the bedroom. He’s got the half lidded expression that usually proceeds him pinning me down somewhere. Duo walks up to him, and hunches over in that way he subtly does to talk to people and not tower over them.

“My shirt is still on.”

“You told me not to rip it.” Wufei starts lifting it immediately, though. “Any other rules?”

“Don’t pull on my hair too much” Duo allows his top be be pulled off then wraps around him, running his hands down his back. “Don’t call me a whore or a slut.”

“Understood. Can I do this?” And Wufei shifts his weight and captures a new center of balance. He hoists all of Duo’s lanky form over his shoulders in a way that makes him resemble his precious duffel. Duo is cackling and trying not to kick his legs, grabbing where he can to steady himself. Wufei carries him down the hall, but not before throwing me a grin and tilting his head towards our room. I follow.

I expect our pace to pick up again, but instead find everything to start to move wonderfully slow. Wufei puts his cargo down rather gently on the on the plush duvet on the bed. We strip him carefully, splitting our attention, kissing each newly revealed inch. Once his pants are finally off, I am a bit overcome by the reality of it, finally having him pinned down under me. I hold his wrists above him, just part of my weight against the pillows. Wufei is already busy nipping and licking his thighs, but I am awestruck studying his flushed face, taking in the short gasps and how his hair is already partially undone by the thrashing of his head. The sight has me in a trance for a while.

“Heero.” Wufei says, his tone taking on his direct, playful, cockiness “You’ve got a promise to keep.”

“…I do?” It comes out of me like I’m high, ten thousand miles out of earths orbit somewhere. I have no idea what he means.

“Get down here and suck his dick.”

“Ah.” I shift down and take the time to pull Wufei’s hair tie out and mess it up by kissing him a bit, because I like it when he looks all tussled. Gripping his jaw, I give his lip a nip before shoving him out of the way. It riles him up to challenge his composure, a little teasing, a little competition. He needs to be in that headspace to gain his sense of belonging. In the same way I like letting go, he likes when he’s doing the right things, when he’s in control and this time everything is going to be ok. He recognizes my prodding and bites my shoulder hard, taking advantage of my gasp to kiss me deeply afterwards. He gets a fistful of my hair in his hands, which he knows he can pull as hard as he wants, presses his face into my neck in that way he likes to.

“Well, dipshit? Get to work.” Wufei crawls up the bed to lay at Duo’s side, and starts wrestling out of his own clothes. I look at the two of them, leaning their disheveled heads together, while Duo deftly wraps an arm around him and starts single handedly working off his belt.

“You two are pretty fucking hot together.” Duo rumbles out. I wish I had a clever quip, but I’ve been given a task and I am nothing if not a focused man. I can see red marks over the pale thighs that I settle myself between, from my partner who is now kicking off his pants and boxers. I mush my face into the tangle of hair and scents, and start giving light presses of my lips up his length, holding Duo’s darkened gaze until I have both of their attention.

“Quit. stalling.” Wufei commands, and so I take the head into my mouth and get to work. I loose myself in the act almost immediately, savoring the new sounds, the new taste, the unknown needs. I build things up incrementally, while Wufei starts a filthy monologue of instructions and encouragement. We gently restrain him and soon I am picking up my speed feeling his legs shake, reveling in the soft glaze of sweat that is now over him and the desperate, panting breaths.

He hits a new note, high as a ringing bell, and I take him in as deep as I can. His release rips an anguished scream from him, and a few stuttering bucks of his hips as I swallow him down. I pull myself up and kiss Wufei quickly, squeezing Duos cock with my hand as I do.

The rest of the evening moves at the same pace, we rotate positions, and take our time. Duo is all energy, and I'm infatuated with his joy. He teases and takes as much as he gives. He challenges Wufei’s control by the sheer force of his charisma. He's not so moldable by command as I am, he never was.

We keep it light with just a few blow jobs and a lot of heavy caresses, but it’s still nearly twilight by the time we’ve finished. There seems to be an unspoken agreement that there will be time for more later. I insist on helping remove Duos make up so we take a shower together while Wufei changes the Duvet cover.

We all get fully into the bed, clean and exhausted. Duo gets sandwiched in the middle and hums, satisfied. I put a screen in his hands and type in the password.

“What’s this?” He asks, his voice has sleep all around its edges.

“The camera feed.” I swipe through a couple views so he can see. “I’ll show you the whole set up tomorrow. Promise.” He swipes through the app himself and glances over the logs… in a way that makes me slightly suspicious that he’s so familiar with the layout. He’s done some unauthorized penetration tests on my systems before, annoyingly, but helpful when he reports the flaws. It’s more likely that he’s just more familiar with my obtuse layouts than anyone else, though. He’s the only person I would trust in here, and possibly the only person I couldn’t keep out even if I wanted to.

He stops his poking at the screen, and is silent for a long moment. I think perhaps that he has drifted off to sleep, but when I look at his face, I realize he’s silently weeping. I take the screen away and see Wufei start to wipe his face.

“You’re safe here.” I whisper to him, and I mean it in every way that I could. He nods silently, there are words caught in his throat, and he’s too proud to speak when they might come out broken. He takes a sharp inhale and a small nervous laugh comes out, followed by heavy sniffles. He grabs my hand and pulls me around him, so we’re spooning. Wufei gently kisses his forehead, and he silently shakes and sobs for a while.

“Sorry, I just-”

“No apologizing.” Wufei gently admonishes him. He doesn’t need to explain it. I spent weeks curled up in a ball in this bed rattled and wrung out, being rocked to sleep. We would do the same for him for a hundred years. Forever.

“You’ll be here in the morning?”

“No work tomorrow. Probably work from home Monday too, more snow coming. We’ll be here.”

“Okay.” He takes a heavy breath and starts to mellow out. “G’night ‘Ro. Night Wuffles.”

I rub his arm for a while and we keep him between us, utterly cocooned, until his breathing steadies and he’s softly snoring. Wufei reaches for the light, and pauses.

“Did he just fucking call me Wuffles.” he whispers. I give him a little shrug. He narrows his eyes, but shuts off the light.

AN ISLAND DEPARTURE

(As remembered by Heero, his arm over Duo’s middle, while he stares at Wufei’s eyelashes as they flutter in sleep. The soft light that is just starting to pour in from the windows reminds him of how he woke up in this exact same position years past.)

I remember the beginning of the end of that strange year. It was a humid morning, storms had had rolled in the night before and peppered the island. I had taken to running in the sand during sunrise and then looping back around to gym. I often would pass Quatre, somewhere along the way, sitting, reading, and sipping his coffee. Usually freshly off a call of some sort and waiting for another. I would sit with him, usually silently, and catch my breath. Eventually I would nod to him and move on. I grew to like this ritual with the only other early riser, and it quickly became a game to find wherever he posted up each day.

That morning, he was in a strange place. Sitting on a bench in the open air lobby, facing the transport shuttles. He had no book, just coffee, steaming hot. I sat next to him and couldn’t help but wonder why he was watching the shuttles and not the water.

“New spot?”

“Yes, have to keep things interesting.” He said cryptically, and he has on that expression like a process was running through his mind. Before I could inquire what might be interesting about the shuttles, I hear the annoying, scratchy rollers of a suitcase on the sand dusted concrete. Dr. Oz walks by, directly in front of us.

“Mrs. Gabriella!” Quatre says, his voice honey dipped. Refusing her doctorate whenever he greeted her was so petty that I was always surprised by it. Over our time at the island I learned that his ire is incredibly persistent. He’s only subtle if the situation makes it advantageous. He can afford the luxury of being a little shit, I suppose. “Are you leaving us so soon, darling? We have another ten weeks, I thought?”

She looked at him with this hollow expression, with none of the control she’d maintained when trying to pull him apart in therapy. She opened her mouth to say something, but a shuttle pulls up to take her to the air strip. She just stared at him for a moment, putting something together that I was unaware of, and got on her bus without a word.

We both sat there and watched it drive off into the distance, until Quatre finally turned to me.

“Pretty good view, eh?” He took a sip.

“Quatre…?” He smiled brilliantly at my confusion. He handed me a clean towel, which he had made a habit of always having with him in the morning, so I could wipe the sweat off my face if we actually talked a while I sat.

“Yes?”

“What did you do?” He placed a hand over his heart in mock offense.

“My dear Heero, why would you think I have anything to do with this?”

“Just a lucky change of scenery?” I said, unconvinced.

“You know, I talked to Relena this morning?”

“…Oh?”

“She said that Mrs. Bakers estranged husband, a talented engineer, was offered a lucrative position on Mars.” He looked off into the distance. “It seems like the court decided that her stay here reflected rather poorly in their extended custody battle over their daughter. Poor girl. Relena sent a special note releasing her from her duties here if she’d like to appeal to the judge.”

“And you offered this estranged husband the position?”

“How dare, Heero! Like I said, nothing to do with it. The Winner family has no holdings on Mars.” I look at him dubiously, and he smiles at me still. His bubbly demeanor is much more unnerving when its covering up just how many machinations he can effect.

“Hmph.” Was all I could really offer to that. Quatre in cahoots with Relena was a troubling thought, but I was relieved to see our worst enemy go. I thought of how this last bit of our stay might unfold with the change. Maybe without the antagonistic bend to it, I could somewhat enjoy our time. I thought about telling the others that she'd gone, and couldn't help but smile at the reaction I imagined.

I felt Quatre brush his fingers lightly over the back of my neck, his face a like protective predator assessing its cub.

“A deals a deal.”

(Heero falls asleep, not too soon after his two partners, and a heavy snowfall begins to blanket the city)

Relena

Its a beautiful spring day. Quatre is my companion for this last leg of my trip and I am grateful, he’s a smooth traveler. He’s in and out of space more than I am, but I have a feeling those days are numbered.

When Dorthy and I finally found a suitable donor and had Elizabeth, he took his position as her god father as seriously as you would hope anyone would. All of the pilots came to see her a few weeks after her birth, but Quatre can barely stay away for more than a month without stopping by and showering her in new baby clothes.

Trowa told me that he’s started casually dropping questions about adoption in conversation. It’s only a matter of time for those two. Today though, I have left Dorthy on baby duty and am enjoying a rare, childless trip. It has been so long since I’ve been here, and I was promised fine cooking by the trio in their newly renovated house. They lived in here three years all together before they started to consider if it was time to leave to gain more space. I was pleased when they worked with my architect to make it more accommodating for them, they so rarely accept help, and I’d hate to see them leave this neighborhood they’ve come to love.

Quatre pulls us up in our sleek rented convertible and helps me out of car with showy formality while I roll my eyes at him.

“PRINCESS!” I hear a holler from the door and Duo gallops at me like a gothy golden retriever. I brace myself to be pounced on. “Princess, you made it!”

“Of course I made it.” I say, and squeeze his shoulders. I push him away slightly so I can look at his face. His big goofy smile is just as youthful as it was the first day I met him. I mush his cheeks with my hands, because I can’t seem to help treating everyone I love a little like a baby lately. He just laughs at me and wiggles his head. Duo has baby energy, anyway.

His partners appear at the door, and Heero comes out to give me the same long, protective hug that he gives me every time. Sighing into my hair and not letting go until our hearts are beating together.

“I’ve got to get back to the stove, so those two are on tour duty.” He says, and grabs our two suitcases from Quatre’s grip before sauntering back inside. When I look back, Duo has Quatre fully on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and the sack is not looking wholly happy about it.

“Wuffles, you show the princess the house. I’ve got to show Q the roses in back.”

“I am fully capable of walking around to the back.”

“Nuh-uh.” Duo jogs off with him towards the gate.

Wufei watches them go, and then we get our own hug finally. I’ve been working with him closely, between the house renovation and connecting him with historians and archivists to help him reclaim whatever history of L5 that we can. I was pretty wary of him during wartime, but in peace he is a calmed homemaker. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a person as in need of a spot to root as him, and he’s now as firmly in the ground as a thousand year old oak.

We hear Duo’s raucous laughter behind the house.

“Does a Eliza need a pet? He’s house trained.”

“We’ll pass.” He chuckles warmly as he leads me into the new space. I’m handed a glass of wine immediately by Heero, who ducks back into the kitchen.

The place still isn’t huge, so the tour isn’t too long. The extension added some much needed storage, another bathroom, and finished the attic to make it livable space. Wufei talks about all the fine details, paintings, symbolic materials, and reclaimed salvage. When we get to the attic, it is a cozy work space that extends the full length of the house. Huge hinged windows let in the spring breeze, and all three of them have their own corners.

At far end of it, by the circular window that looks out at the front, there’s a large, sturdy easel with a canvas on it. A painting is just getting started.

“I believe its going to be a calla lily. You’ll have to ask Duo for a full sketchbook tour, though. He keeps them all in there.” He motions at a long, heavy canvas bag with worn straps that has been covered in stitched on patches. It is nearly filled to the brim with books and paper. “It’s still sacred, I can’t pull them out. It’s worth asking him to see them, though, I like the ink drawings the most.”

“I’ll be sure to get him up here before the weekend is out.” Wufei nods with pride. Of all of us, he’s the one who encourages Duo the most as an artist. I’ve been told he’s even penned a poem or two to go with drawings, but they are apparently not for anyone else’s eyes. I am sure they are stashed somewhere safe.

I am lead back down to the kitchen, where Trowa is up on a screen on the counter. He waves at me but Heero does not stop chattering about some sort of engine while he refills my wine glass and ushers me right back out of his work space, with a gentle push and a peck on the cheek.

I take my seat in the living room, at the head of the table that’s already set, and take out my phone. A few texts from Dorthy.

[Baby is down for a nap, she threw a whole bowl of spaghetti on the floor at lunch today, but other than that she’s been relatively agreeable, despite her favorite mother being absent.]

[She’s wise to my tricks, she’s going to be vindictive when you aren’t here to sing to her at bed time. Pray for me.]

[Tell all the stinky boys that I’ve got her calling them “stimpky boos” already.]

[Thanks love. I’ll let the stimpky boos know.]

THE END