(Gundam Wing) WufeixDuo
Title: This Wasn't Supposed to Happen...
Author:Elemental
Pairing: Duo Maxwell and Wufei Chang
Fandom: Gundam WIng
Theme: #26: if only I could make you mine.
Disclaimer: Don't belong to me folks...
Notes: Unbeta-ed, after the series, ignoring EW. Slight bastardization of Heero (which will be explained in further stories)
The Preventor Christmas party is a yearly… ordeal. I attend for exactly one reason. His name is Maxwell.
Everyone assumes I attend under Sally Po’s thinly veiled threats, which begin sometime in October and are at a daily reminder by the time December is here. I allow her to badger me because everyone assumes I ‘cave’ and attend to avoid her wrath. It prevents speculation. It prevents… rumors.
I actually enjoy the parties, for the most part. It is a chance to watch other Preventors in a more relaxed setting. Every party holds disaster, and watching as every year forces new reactions from people is a private joy. I like seeing people react. I like seeing normal people react. I like watching the social bubble, I simply hate being within it. Watching from the sidelines is perfectly acceptable. Mingling with the fathers and wives and soon-to-be-blanks is hell. I deal with soldiers. Not people. Not by choice. I never learned to deal with people, and I can’t change my methodology now. I wonder if I watch because I want to learn.
It matters not.
Duo and Heero are always late. They show up together, Duo bundled manic energy, Heero reserved and scowling. He hates these parties, but comes for Duo’s sake. Duo loves everything about them, and puts up with Heero’s complaints for months so he can attend.
I’ve heard them argue enough to know this is the norm.
Duo floats. Heero sits. Duo socializes; Heero will occasionally drift over to the odd group to speak for a few minutes, before returning to his table. He watches Duo like a hawk, and Duo ignores the daggers in his back. Heero will, before dinner, stalk out of the room to the garden and fresh air. Duo will notice, and occasionally follows to drag him back. Either way they sit down to dinner with me and we share our table with the others, who shower us with banal banter that we’d hear from them any other day at work, but it’s Christmas, and things are always more…important this time of year. Heero makes thinly veiled comments to show how annoyed he is at attending, and the rest of us ignore him, unable to retort.
This too is a pattern. Five years now, in fact. Everyone avoids it. They see the problem, but know there’s nothing to be done to fix it, so it is cowardly ignored. Even I hesitate to cross Heero, who’s grown only colder over the years, more controlling. There is little use in upsetting a man I must work with every day, especially someone who can carry a grudge like Yuy.
The fact that Duo and Heero are together is obvious, and though it’s never been made a stated fact, it’s been accepted in the office for years. The one time the two had to pose as lovers for a mission resulted in Heero being placed on Duo’s “Family” contact list for the medical charts, vice versa for Duo. No comment was made, it was again just accepted. They were never apart, finished each others sentences, spent weeks beside the other when missions went wrong and hospitalized one of them. No one had any reason to speak against it, save perhaps for me. And I am not the type to step between two in love for my own heart.
So I savor what glimpses I can, enjoy the friendship as much as possible, do my best to show Duo I am always there. That I care. That I care for him as a person, that he is worthwhile, that I value our friendship. He is manic energy and self-assurance at work, but his ego is still fragile, or perhaps has become fragile, and a harsh word can send him into weeks of self doubt. He places Heero’s word above all others, Heero’s opinion above all else. It hurts to see him so in love with someone who can hurt him so callously, and who does.
So I come to these parties to be with Duo. Every year since the first Preventor party, Heero will leave before the floor is cleared and the DJ starts the music. Every year Duo stays behind, willing to endure the weeks of rebuke from Heero to enjoy the few hours of nothing but dance, with, as he once told me, good music and people who know him and accept that.
This year is no different, Heero glaring through dinner and making small talk when necessary. He leaves directly after, not even saying goodbye to Duo, and I don’t fail to notice the hurt in eyes that are almost violet in this light. And I am a heartless bastard, and steal what time I can, comforting without being overt, distracting until the music begins to play. And Duo leads me to the dance floor, a token resistance from me more for show than anything else.
And we dance.
He smells of alcohol. Not quite drunk, but almost there. Just enough to be loose. To stop caring about anything but the music. I can dance, I know, and Duo… Duo can dance. Can move and play and tease and on the dance floor, for just a little while, I pretend he’s really mine. And he lets me. Not intentionally - I can never jeopardize what I have by risking his knowledge of my feelings. He thinks its just dance. Thinks it’s nothing. And I let him, because these moments are too important to lose. Him, me, the beat. I lead and he follows. I tease and he lets me. Words are exchanged over the beat, or under it, that could never, ever be said outside this room, this moment. For a few glorious hours I forget myself in his beauty, and he steps ever closer to my heart.
He makes my heart race, my head ache, makes me feel as though there is a stone in my stomach and wings on my feet. I suffer from every classic form of lovesickness, and can do nothing to stop it. Thank the gods I don’t blush. I don’t even want to think of how dead I would be if I blushed.
It’s weak and selfish, but I take those hours and make him mine, as I wish he was always. And then the music winds down, and we go to my car, because Heero leaves him without a ride. We drive to his place in silence and I drop him off like always. I know he’s preparing for Heero’s reprimand, because his face always takes on its carefully neutral look, as though he doesn’t want to show he enjoyed himself. I drop him off in front of their apartment, and set towards my own empty house.
I bought a house, a small one, because I knew that Duo wanted to live in one after the war, and vainly thought I could give it to him. Heero and Duo live in an apartment, because Heero sees houses as being unnecessary wastes of space that could house many instead of few. The only time Duo mentioned it to Heero, Heero ranted about the housing shortage for weeks, to everyone.
I keep the house out of spite.
I’m a fool.
My cell phone rings and I pull to the side of the rode to answer it. It’s Duo, voice strained, asking if he could possibly stay at my place tonight. I agree immediately, and ask why. Apparently Heero has left the house for the night, and Duo doesn’t want to be alone. I don’t argue, and I’m back in front of the apartment in far less time than I should be.
Duo’s waiting at the curb and says nothing when he climbs in, closing his eyes and feigning sleep as I drive us back home. I don’t press. I don’t need to. It’s my job to just be here for him. That much I can do.
We unload and make our way to the kitchen. Neither of us are tired, though it’s past 4 am. I make hot chocolate with marshmallows (and yes, they’re only in the house because Duo likes them, I personally think they’re vile) and we retreat to the couch, where I sit in one corner, and Duo perches in the other.
Before long he’s pacing, tugging on his braid as he always does when anxious. He starts a sentence and cuts it off repeatedly; assuring me I don’t care to hear it.
I tell him to go on, and he gives me the emptiest smile I’ve ever seen on his face. And he just… opens.
All the tiny suspicions I’d held over his and Heero’s relationship unfold before me, making me half wish I wasn’t so good at reading people. He rants, and I listen, comforting where I can, growing more and more angry as the hours grow, hiding it for Duo, who would take this anger and see it aimed at him, something I never want him to see from me, ever.
Past sunrise and Duo is spent, curled up against my side, three quarters asleep and falling. I’m exhausted, hours of controlling my emotions, the physical exhaustion of the dance, and a full day before that leave me empty and running on fumes. I decide sleeping on the couch won’t be so bad as my head falls for the third time, and wake only a little as I feel Duo shift and turn his head towards me.
And my stomach drops when he asks if I meant what I did at the dance. If it meant anything at all. And, more than a little accusatory, if I was just playing mind games.
I have no time to think, acting only on automatic. I can’t lie. No games I tell him. Never mind games, I promise. Then, half asleep, drunk on exhaustion and lust, I kiss him. Lightly, chastely, upside down and probably more than a little clumsily.
He blinks at me owlishly, and all apologies die on my lips. I can’t apologize, not for something I meant. Perhaps for something that I had not wanted to do then, apologize for the mess this was going to make, apologize for putting him between a possible rock and hard place…
But not for the kiss itself. I meant that. I can’t take it back.
Instead I kiss him again, lightly on the forehead, and then hug him tightly to my chest.
No, I tell him. No games. I meant what I’d said, under the pulse and the heat. I love him, truly.
And he tenses.
I don’t relax my hold. I expect nothing from him, I tell him. I don’t want to loose what I have. I will never get between him and Heero, I assure him. I just want him to know I am here. That I will always be here. And I want, I need, nothing in return. I will never hurt him. And I will always keep my promises.
And then I let go. The choice is his. The choice has always been his.
He turns to stare into my eyes and I meet his gaze. I love him, but I can spend the rest of my life alone, if he is in love with Heero, if he is happy with Heero. Even if it tears me up inside, I can live of the reflection of their love and the few hours in a year when I can pretend he’s mine.
Whatever he’s looking for in my eyes he finds, and he returns the kiss, hands circling around my neck, leaning full into me. It’s past morning and we’re both dead from exhaustion, my mind screams. What about Heero? It reminds me. I ignore it. Heero can be dealt with later. Reality can return to us later. Right now I just want to hold him, and pretend, for a little while, that he’s truly mine.
Author:Elemental
Pairing: Duo Maxwell and Wufei Chang
Fandom: Gundam WIng
Theme: #26: if only I could make you mine.
Disclaimer: Don't belong to me folks...
Notes: Unbeta-ed, after the series, ignoring EW. Slight bastardization of Heero (which will be explained in further stories)
The Preventor Christmas party is a yearly… ordeal. I attend for exactly one reason. His name is Maxwell.
Everyone assumes I attend under Sally Po’s thinly veiled threats, which begin sometime in October and are at a daily reminder by the time December is here. I allow her to badger me because everyone assumes I ‘cave’ and attend to avoid her wrath. It prevents speculation. It prevents… rumors.
I actually enjoy the parties, for the most part. It is a chance to watch other Preventors in a more relaxed setting. Every party holds disaster, and watching as every year forces new reactions from people is a private joy. I like seeing people react. I like seeing normal people react. I like watching the social bubble, I simply hate being within it. Watching from the sidelines is perfectly acceptable. Mingling with the fathers and wives and soon-to-be-blanks is hell. I deal with soldiers. Not people. Not by choice. I never learned to deal with people, and I can’t change my methodology now. I wonder if I watch because I want to learn.
It matters not.
Duo and Heero are always late. They show up together, Duo bundled manic energy, Heero reserved and scowling. He hates these parties, but comes for Duo’s sake. Duo loves everything about them, and puts up with Heero’s complaints for months so he can attend.
I’ve heard them argue enough to know this is the norm.
Duo floats. Heero sits. Duo socializes; Heero will occasionally drift over to the odd group to speak for a few minutes, before returning to his table. He watches Duo like a hawk, and Duo ignores the daggers in his back. Heero will, before dinner, stalk out of the room to the garden and fresh air. Duo will notice, and occasionally follows to drag him back. Either way they sit down to dinner with me and we share our table with the others, who shower us with banal banter that we’d hear from them any other day at work, but it’s Christmas, and things are always more…important this time of year. Heero makes thinly veiled comments to show how annoyed he is at attending, and the rest of us ignore him, unable to retort.
This too is a pattern. Five years now, in fact. Everyone avoids it. They see the problem, but know there’s nothing to be done to fix it, so it is cowardly ignored. Even I hesitate to cross Heero, who’s grown only colder over the years, more controlling. There is little use in upsetting a man I must work with every day, especially someone who can carry a grudge like Yuy.
The fact that Duo and Heero are together is obvious, and though it’s never been made a stated fact, it’s been accepted in the office for years. The one time the two had to pose as lovers for a mission resulted in Heero being placed on Duo’s “Family” contact list for the medical charts, vice versa for Duo. No comment was made, it was again just accepted. They were never apart, finished each others sentences, spent weeks beside the other when missions went wrong and hospitalized one of them. No one had any reason to speak against it, save perhaps for me. And I am not the type to step between two in love for my own heart.
So I savor what glimpses I can, enjoy the friendship as much as possible, do my best to show Duo I am always there. That I care. That I care for him as a person, that he is worthwhile, that I value our friendship. He is manic energy and self-assurance at work, but his ego is still fragile, or perhaps has become fragile, and a harsh word can send him into weeks of self doubt. He places Heero’s word above all others, Heero’s opinion above all else. It hurts to see him so in love with someone who can hurt him so callously, and who does.
So I come to these parties to be with Duo. Every year since the first Preventor party, Heero will leave before the floor is cleared and the DJ starts the music. Every year Duo stays behind, willing to endure the weeks of rebuke from Heero to enjoy the few hours of nothing but dance, with, as he once told me, good music and people who know him and accept that.
This year is no different, Heero glaring through dinner and making small talk when necessary. He leaves directly after, not even saying goodbye to Duo, and I don’t fail to notice the hurt in eyes that are almost violet in this light. And I am a heartless bastard, and steal what time I can, comforting without being overt, distracting until the music begins to play. And Duo leads me to the dance floor, a token resistance from me more for show than anything else.
And we dance.
He smells of alcohol. Not quite drunk, but almost there. Just enough to be loose. To stop caring about anything but the music. I can dance, I know, and Duo… Duo can dance. Can move and play and tease and on the dance floor, for just a little while, I pretend he’s really mine. And he lets me. Not intentionally - I can never jeopardize what I have by risking his knowledge of my feelings. He thinks its just dance. Thinks it’s nothing. And I let him, because these moments are too important to lose. Him, me, the beat. I lead and he follows. I tease and he lets me. Words are exchanged over the beat, or under it, that could never, ever be said outside this room, this moment. For a few glorious hours I forget myself in his beauty, and he steps ever closer to my heart.
He makes my heart race, my head ache, makes me feel as though there is a stone in my stomach and wings on my feet. I suffer from every classic form of lovesickness, and can do nothing to stop it. Thank the gods I don’t blush. I don’t even want to think of how dead I would be if I blushed.
It’s weak and selfish, but I take those hours and make him mine, as I wish he was always. And then the music winds down, and we go to my car, because Heero leaves him without a ride. We drive to his place in silence and I drop him off like always. I know he’s preparing for Heero’s reprimand, because his face always takes on its carefully neutral look, as though he doesn’t want to show he enjoyed himself. I drop him off in front of their apartment, and set towards my own empty house.
I bought a house, a small one, because I knew that Duo wanted to live in one after the war, and vainly thought I could give it to him. Heero and Duo live in an apartment, because Heero sees houses as being unnecessary wastes of space that could house many instead of few. The only time Duo mentioned it to Heero, Heero ranted about the housing shortage for weeks, to everyone.
I keep the house out of spite.
I’m a fool.
My cell phone rings and I pull to the side of the rode to answer it. It’s Duo, voice strained, asking if he could possibly stay at my place tonight. I agree immediately, and ask why. Apparently Heero has left the house for the night, and Duo doesn’t want to be alone. I don’t argue, and I’m back in front of the apartment in far less time than I should be.
Duo’s waiting at the curb and says nothing when he climbs in, closing his eyes and feigning sleep as I drive us back home. I don’t press. I don’t need to. It’s my job to just be here for him. That much I can do.
We unload and make our way to the kitchen. Neither of us are tired, though it’s past 4 am. I make hot chocolate with marshmallows (and yes, they’re only in the house because Duo likes them, I personally think they’re vile) and we retreat to the couch, where I sit in one corner, and Duo perches in the other.
Before long he’s pacing, tugging on his braid as he always does when anxious. He starts a sentence and cuts it off repeatedly; assuring me I don’t care to hear it.
I tell him to go on, and he gives me the emptiest smile I’ve ever seen on his face. And he just… opens.
All the tiny suspicions I’d held over his and Heero’s relationship unfold before me, making me half wish I wasn’t so good at reading people. He rants, and I listen, comforting where I can, growing more and more angry as the hours grow, hiding it for Duo, who would take this anger and see it aimed at him, something I never want him to see from me, ever.
Past sunrise and Duo is spent, curled up against my side, three quarters asleep and falling. I’m exhausted, hours of controlling my emotions, the physical exhaustion of the dance, and a full day before that leave me empty and running on fumes. I decide sleeping on the couch won’t be so bad as my head falls for the third time, and wake only a little as I feel Duo shift and turn his head towards me.
And my stomach drops when he asks if I meant what I did at the dance. If it meant anything at all. And, more than a little accusatory, if I was just playing mind games.
I have no time to think, acting only on automatic. I can’t lie. No games I tell him. Never mind games, I promise. Then, half asleep, drunk on exhaustion and lust, I kiss him. Lightly, chastely, upside down and probably more than a little clumsily.
He blinks at me owlishly, and all apologies die on my lips. I can’t apologize, not for something I meant. Perhaps for something that I had not wanted to do then, apologize for the mess this was going to make, apologize for putting him between a possible rock and hard place…
But not for the kiss itself. I meant that. I can’t take it back.
Instead I kiss him again, lightly on the forehead, and then hug him tightly to my chest.
No, I tell him. No games. I meant what I’d said, under the pulse and the heat. I love him, truly.
And he tenses.
I don’t relax my hold. I expect nothing from him, I tell him. I don’t want to loose what I have. I will never get between him and Heero, I assure him. I just want him to know I am here. That I will always be here. And I want, I need, nothing in return. I will never hurt him. And I will always keep my promises.
And then I let go. The choice is his. The choice has always been his.
He turns to stare into my eyes and I meet his gaze. I love him, but I can spend the rest of my life alone, if he is in love with Heero, if he is happy with Heero. Even if it tears me up inside, I can live of the reflection of their love and the few hours in a year when I can pretend he’s mine.
Whatever he’s looking for in my eyes he finds, and he returns the kiss, hands circling around my neck, leaning full into me. It’s past morning and we’re both dead from exhaustion, my mind screams. What about Heero? It reminds me. I ignore it. Heero can be dealt with later. Reality can return to us later. Right now I just want to hold him, and pretend, for a little while, that he’s truly mine.