Author: FancyFigures
see part 1 for warnings, notes, disclaimer

True Colours + Part 12

The police had come and gone, and Remy de Haas had gone with them - a tall figure, beautiful despite her astonishing outfit, and almost welcoming of the attention she was getting. She had no further words for any of the men in the gallery - the police had suggested she called her lawyer, but she seemed more interested in calling her PA, to have fresh clothes sent over. The officers were calm and dismissive; they'd seen shock and denial too many times before.

Trowa stood quietly at the edge of the gallery, watching the activity, and never entering into it. Heero had taken Duo aside and refused to acknowledge Remy at all.

Quatre had handled the liaison with the police, quietly and assertively. Then he came to stand by Trowa.

"Are you OK? All that about the fire - and Solo...I never imagined Remy was involved to that degree..."

"Neither did I," said Trowa. His voice was cool, as if drained of life's warmth.

"I'm - guess I'm deeply sorry to have dragged you into this. If I hadn't gone digging around in Remy's past, setting ridiculous traps for her with the gallery -" Quatre cursed himself for his apparent clumsiness. He wanted desperately to do right by Trowa - but he'd never felt so awkward; so unsure of how to deal with the man beside him. He was aghast at the way that the night had ended.

"It was never your fault, Quatre," said Trowa, and for a second there was the flicker of some animation returning to his face. "I never wanted to think of that night - to imagine what it would have been like for him. But now that I know, I seem to be able to face it again - to think about him without the uncertainty and the fear being there. It's odd..." He shook his head, as if he were amazed at himself.

"You know - I never told anyone that before. I never talked about it to anyone before..." His voice was almost a whisper.

Quatre couldn't help himself - he put out a hand and laid it on Trowa's shoulder. Perhaps it was too personal a gesture for such a self-contained man as Trowa Barton - but he didn't shake off the comforting touch.

"That was the most astonishin' thing I ever saw," Quatre said, gently. "To talk about the man like you did - to tell her the things you did. I can't imagine I'd ever have the balls to do that myself - I can't think I'd ever have the courage."

"It was the truth," said Trowa, flatly.

"It hurt you," said Quatre. His voice caught a little on the emotion behind them. "Christ, it musta hurt you more than anythin' -"

"No!" replied Trowa, sharply. He turned slightly, so that he could look directly at Quatre. His eyes were bright again - he still looked immensely tired, but there was an acute awareness alight in him now. "It was no worse than any other time with Solo! No worse than any other jealousy or misery that he brought me. He was always sorry; he begged me - often - to stay with him, to forget all the others, they meant nothing. He genuinely believed it; he genuinely loved me. And I loved him in return - I wouldn't have left him; not for that, anyway. Do you think that's pathetic?"

Quatre's eyes widened sharply. "I don't know anyone less deserving of that description than you, Trowa Barton!"

Trowa continued to stare at him, but a new expression sparked in his eyes.

"I envy you, in all truth," said Quatre, slowly. "I'm jealous. Dammit, that's not somethin' you're gonna hear from my lips too often! But it's somethin' precious - to know what you want - to treasure it. Despite the pain that comes with it."

Trowa was watching the words as if he could see them spilling from Quatre's mouth. He smiled, slightly - savouring just a hint of the thoughts in his head. "Precious, yes. Treasure it, no! I'm starting to think a little more clearly now, I think. Duo tried to tell me that I should move on, but I only half-listened. Gave him plenty of advice - took none myself."

"Don't beat yourself up, for God's sake -"

"Hush, Quatre," he said. Those who knew Quatre Winner would have been surprised to see how willingly the blond man complied. "I loved Solo, I'm not ashamed to say it, and it was the best time of my life so far -"

"So far...?" Quatre's words were so quiet that probably no-one heard.

"But it was a time full of shit as well!" Trowa's eyes were wide now, and his mouth almost smiling. There were mixed expressions of astonishment and hopefulness on his face - he seemed to be finding his shocked feelings both strange and amusing. Quatre felt a humbling gratitude for being able to see them; for Trowa allowing him to. He wondered when the hell he'd become so poetic!

"Now Solo's gone," continued Trowa. "And all that went with him! I think I want something rather more rewarding now; something more mature."

"You gonna let me help you look for it?" There was a low timbre to Quatre's voice that took the seductiveness out of his words and left them as rather childlike.

"Maybe!" Trowa laughed, though it was hesitant, as if he didn't really believe where he was; what had happened. "We've got statements to make first; Duo and Heero to protect. When this news breaks -"

Heero was beside him then, Duo's pale face seen over his shoulder. "We'll stay here for the moment. Can you organise some secure transport for us, Quatre, to be on my call? I really don't think Duo is up to any questioning, official or otherwise. We need a temporary break from it all..."

"Sure," said Quatre. He flipped the cell phone open again, perfectly happy to wake his contacts well before dawn. Trowa moved away to stand by Duo; their heads were dipped in some private conversation, their voices too low for anyone else to hear them.

+

Quatre closed his cell, having cheerfully overridden all complaints and sleepy confusion at the security firm. "You're a cool cookie, Yuy," he murmured. "When did you start to suspect Remy for the whole fire episode?"

"I didn't," said Heero, flatly. "When my house was fired that time, I came here to see Duo - that's when he told me more about his own story. I think I started to think then, about the connections between art and fire - the people that were common to us both. I didn't have Remy in that category, I admit. But there were coincidences that hadn't been explained; too many mysteries for my liking."

Quatre smiled privately at his friend's calm appraisal. The man wasn't at the top of the corporate tree by accident. His tenacity was legendary.

"But it wasn't until I heard your conversations with her - you and Trowa - that I knew that she'd been with Solo Maxwell as well. It was the final piece of the jigsaw that I needed - to suggest the fate of the sketches; to suspect more about the fire that killed him."

"Told you to read the damned gossip press -" grumbled Quatre. "Or listen to your staff more often - that steady little kid Tony knows more about our private lives than we do ourselves!"

Heero looked back at Trowa and Duo, now hugging.

"Damned sap..." sighed Quatre, though he looked suspiciously moved. "Damned night this has been!"

"Go look after him, Quatre," said Heero, knowing that Quatre would know whom he meant.

"If he lets me." Quatre grimaced. "I'd kinda like him lookin' after me as well, in return..."

"I can't say I'd envy him the job!" Heero smiled. "Will you come with us when the car arrives?"

Quatre grinned back. "I'll go with Trowa now, I think; see him home OK. Whether he wants me to, or not! He's the sorta guy who's gonna need some persuadin' that he needs me as a chaperone, y'know?" He ignored Heero's amused look. "And besides, I ain't gonna play gooseberry for anyone, let alone the Outrageous Couple of the month!"

He laughed, and pressed Heero's shoulder in support. "Call the guys when you want the limo delivered. And call me when you when you need me, hon, OK? I'll see you're both all right."

+

The dawn light was creeping through the dim sky outside. It shone mistily across the bare floor of the studio room.

Duo sat on his couch, legs curled up underneath him. He had just his shorts on, though Heero had insisted on draping a soft blanket around his bare shoulders. His braid was loosened, and the hair hung down on to his shoulders. Heero had brought in two cups of strong, heavily sugared tea, but neither of them had touched a sip. He sat at the very edge of the cushion like he had once, a million years ago, when he barely knew Duo. He felt, for the first time, the unfamiliarity of Duo's clothes on his body. He wanted to reach out to the other man, and touch the braid; to caress it - but he kept his hands to himself. He didn't know what Duo was feeling, and it worried him.

Duo looked up at him, as if he felt the vibrations of Heero's desire and confusion. "Heero, are you OK?"

"Me?"

"Uh-huh. About Remy. She tried to fool you with just about everything -"

"Christ, Duo, of course I am!" Heero wanted to laugh, but he didn't want to sound heartless. Remy may have fooled him - but she'd never reached his heart. And it was nothing compared to the hurt she'd caused Duo.

"I would have done anything to stop you hearing all that tonight!" he said, harshly.

Duo's eyes were wide and slightly blank. "Why? Isn't it better I know the truth? It answers so many of my questions - who Solo was with; what really happened that night; how the accident ever came to be. And it was a damned sight worse for Trow to relive all the memories."

"You can go to him if you want -"

"Nah - he's got Quatre for the moment - even if he had to forego the hot sex on the catalogue table..." murmured Duo, and smiled softly at Heero's puzzled look.

"You - are you going to be OK about all this?" asked Heero. The revelations of the night had been stunning. Was Duo in shock? Hysterical?

"Hell's teeth!" swore Duo. He suddenly stretched his arms high above his head, the joints popping, the long fingers locking his hands together. The blanket shifted down his back, exposing the glistening skin and muscles of his torso. "Of course I'm gonna be OK! I don't want the shit to consume me again, Heero. It's too long gone - I gotta move on, haven't I? Solo himself would want me to keep going - "

"To keep painting?" asked Heero. "I understand - you wanted something to remember him by. Perhaps your drawing tonight -"

"No, Heero - dammit, how does a guy as thick headed as you ever make any money?" Duo sighed, tiredly. "4:Y is nothing to do with Solo. Yeah, maybe I'll draw something for him - about him - in the future. But the drawing tonight was for you alone. I'll keep my memorials to the dead for another day."

Heero wanted to discuss what plans Duo may have for the future; when he might want to 'move on', as he said. No I don't, he thought. What the hell kind of masochist am I?

And he knew that now was most definitely not the time to be discussing such things.

"Duo -" he swallowed, and started again. "Duo, can I hold you?"

Duo's smile was a pale imitation of other nights, but it was recognisable. He patted at the couch beside him, and Heero moved quickly along to sit there. He could feel Duo's warm skin close by; his even breath warming the hairs on Heero's shoulder, each time he exhaled.

They sat silently for a moment, just gazing at each other.

"You gonna hold me, then, or was it all talk?" Duo was almost smirking. "I assume we're not goin' back to bed, and the sun's gonna be up in no time, and this sappy look-into-my-eyes crap isn't as warm as that blanket by any stretch of the imagination!"

"For a romantic offer like that -" grinned Heero. He slid an arm around the other man's back and the two of them melded together sweetly. He touched his lips gently to Duo's, but Duo's mouth opened greedily, and he leaned into the kiss with an awakening passion.

"You been promisin' me this since you jumped me at the show, Yuy," moaned Duo. They were sinking back where they sat, holding each other closely, their backs against the soft cushions. Heero could feel their hearts beating faster - could feel the goosebumps rising across his shoulders and down his arms.

"I remember you doing the jumping, Maxwell," he murmured. Everything tasted so sharp and sweet tonight - he could see Duo's chest moving with even the slightest breath; he could hear the soft bubbles in his throat as he swallowed. Duo's lips were rich and plump and tasted of everything good from raspberries to toothpaste! Everything was bright and precious to him... "Come back with me now!"

"To your apartment?" Duo's voice was a mumble. He was fumbling at Heero's waistband, tugging at the sweats as if he were trying to slide a hand inside. Heero felt the other hand move up under his thin tee shirt, pinching at his nipples mischievously. He wasn't sure where the other six hands came from, but that's what the touches felt like all over his chest.

"No - not the apartment..." Heero arched under him, his breath painfully excited in his throat. Duo was licking his throat now, and the warm, rough tongue was like a particularly erotic cat's. "Come back to my house. We won't be disturbed there; and I want to show you something."

"Something on show here right now..." chuckled Duo. His mouth was on Heero's neck, but his eyes were hunting at his tented lap, and finding their willing prey. "It's eyeful enough for me -!"

"No..." groaned Heero. "More than this -"

Duo sighed; he sounded unconvinced. His hand slid triumphantly inside the sweats, and it curled possessively around Heero's rapidly swelling cock. When he spoke, he was breathless with desire - but there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "Need you, Heero. Need your touch - need to feel you. Can't see what we can get there that we can't get here...unless... you gotta bigger bed, Yuy?"

Heero laughed. Duo's touch was magnificent - it was sure and firm and seductive. He was aching fiercely for him already. "Sure! Several bedrooms, in fact. We could play musical beds...keep us amused for hours..."

Duo's answering laugh was soft and wickedly sensual. He'd woken up earlier with a raging hard-on, and the need for his lover to give him satisfaction, only to find him gone from the bed. Despite the drama of the following hours, he could still feel the echoes of that desire in his nerve endings; he was erect and ready for Heero very swiftly.

"I like the look of you in my clothes, man," he hissed. "Though red is never gonna be your colour..." He sighed. "And I'm gonna like you a lot better out of 'em!"

He nudged the sweats down over Heero's thighs - the thick, hot cock was exposed, springing up with the delight of freedom; glistening with the signs of his urgent excitement. Duo chuckled with pleasure... and then he slid carefully off the couch, so that his body nestled between Heero's outstretched legs, and his head was at his groin. He took a generous handful of Heero's aching, shifting balls, and the dark-haired man groaned as firm, damp lips engulfed him greedily.

"So when do you wanna go to your place?" The words were muffled - they vibrated around the over-sensitive flesh of Heero's shaft.

"Now is fine -" Heero gasped.

"Now?" teased Duo.

Heero groaned. His lover's tongue was lapping softly at the length of his cock - he was tugging the skin up and down, tormenting the exposed crown; flipping the tip of his tongue against it. It's been a hell of a night! thought Heero - he barely understood how, after all that had happened, he could feel so desperate for sex; for Duo! He'd not realised how charged he felt; how his body thrummed, with suppressed emotion and desire. With need -

"Soon, then -" His voice was gargled in his throat.

"OK," said Duo, with more soft laughter. His mouth paused in its work; he pulled a little away from Heero's groin, to be able to speak more clearly. "Soon is good; that's agreed then. Take me to yours and find me some decent breakfast, and 'praps we'll hide out there for a few days - and nights. I can live with that." He swallowed carefully, as if he were afraid of getting too serious, but had to speak. "I want us together today, Heero - and tonight. I want to know it's all over with Remy de Haas, and the gallery's still here, and the guys are still with us, wherever they are, and the secrets are all gone - "

He tightened his lips again around the crown of Heero's cock and teased out a drop of pre-cum with his tongue. Heero gave a sound that was a mixture between a yelp and a whimper. Duo's voice was in his head; murmuring around his swollen flesh. It was part of the caress; part of the worship. "Heero, I wanna know that you're still here..."

"I don't want to be anywhere else," whispered Heero.

"Prove it," Duo whispered back. "Might just be your smooth talk I'm hearin'..." He lifted his head off Heero completely, the drops of saliva shining on his lips. He was panting - he looked a little wild. His tongue flickered out and licked at his lips - he grinned.

"You look incredibly sexy, Heero," he hissed. "Taste it, too. Spread out there for me - cock strainin' outta your pants, callin' out its need. Time for you to come for me, I think -"

He put his hands on Heero's thighs, pressing them a little further apart, hampered a little by the sweats down below his hips. His long fingers folded deliberately around Heero's cock, though they didn't do anything more than squeeze him gently. A lone fingertip teased at the little thread of skin attached to the crown. Heero glared at his tormentor, knelt in front of him; the sensation of that simple touch was astonishingly acute - almost painful. He growled with frustration. "Harder, Duo!"

"Ohhh no," grinned Duo. His eyes were bright with mischief. "This'll do it, Heero, just as well - softly, slowly - this'll have the required effect, I promise!"

Heero shuddered - his mouth opened in a strange, almost silent groan. His eyes shut tightly - his hands lifted helplessly from beside his waist, seeking some kind of friction, but Duo's firm, deliberate touch kept the control just out of his reach.

"Hurts, Duo - Christ - need more -"

Duo hushed him; he laughed softly. The pads of his fingertips stroked; patted; teased.

Heero's eyes opened abruptly; suddenly very wide. A wave of sensation was rolling out along his nerves; his body shivered in anticipation of something it no longer had control over at all. "*Shit*! But how - that's - oh my God -"

"I think we know what's happenin' here..." murmured Duo. "Relax - let it come -"

"I can't stop it -!" groaned Heero, in protest. His thighs shook with tension - his heart was racing. The ecstasy was rich, and precious, and coiling tightly in his gut. He'd never known such a feeling, without fierce stimulation around his cock; he'd never known such a gentle, simple, devastating touch -!

"Don't try!" hissed Duo. He sat back on his heels, just his fingers playing with the shuddering shaft, jutting out from between Heero's legs. He bit gently at his lower lip as he watched the skin stretching over the engorged flesh - his other hand strayed carelessly to his own lap. "Let it come, Heero. Come for me, lover!"

Heero arched high - his head went back hard against the couch, and his feet lifted from the floor. He no longer had any feeling for whether Duo still held him or not - all he could feel was the throb of release, and the heat bursting from the tip of his cock; damp, angry spurts, running down the column of purple-red flesh, covering his lower belly, covering the retreating fingers of his lover, who was laughing, laughing, with delight and his own excitement -

"For you, you bastard!" he gasped, laughing as well as sobbing, his flesh rippling with the aftershock. "All for you!"

+

Heero's eyes felt dazed, but he clearly saw Duo still smiling at him. He was sat back on his heels, carefully licking the sticky threads of Heero's cum from his fingers. It was too much! Heero thought. Duo Maxwell is a torturer, and should be made to pay -! He reached down to grab at the braided head, but either his climax had slowed down his reflexes, or else Duo just moved faster; in seconds, the other man had knelt up, leaned forward and pushed Heero back on to the couch cushions. Then his hands were back up under the tee shirt, but this time, to peel it up and over Heero's head. Heero thought he might not protest after all...

There was frenzied activity for a minute, from both of them - Heero wriggled when one of his arms got caught in the tee shirt fabric; he kicked off his sweats impatiently. Duo grabbed at the discarded shirt and, ignoring Heero's protests about struggling to the bathroom, wiped his lover's belly with it, cleaning off the rest of the warm, glutinous seed. Then Duo moved with his own smooth, fluid grace and stripped off his shorts. They were both naked; they were grinning hungrily at each other; they both knew exactly what they wanted.

"Bloody couch..." groaned Heero. He'd pulled himself fully upright now, and it was Duo's turn to be thrown back on to the cushions. Their mouths were nipping and kissing and touching... then Heero's hands were at Duo's thighs, pressing in between them, spreading them apart so that his cock bounced up from the nest of damp, dark brown curls; hot and red and inviting.

Heero licked his own lips. He would have his revenge...

"Heero," gasped Duo, distracting him temporarily. "That business with the fingerprints, and Remy - is that true, Heero? That they'd use the painted prints to connect her with the break-ins?"

"I have no idea," sighed Heero. "Don't you ever shut up and just enjoy?" His fingertips ran reverently along the vein of Duo's shaft, watching it spring and flex in ecstatic reaction.

"What? But you sounded so sure about it in the gallery -"

Heero shrugged. "It was enough to scare her - to make her confess more, I think. That's all I wanted to do."

"Devious bastard," Duo whistled, impressed. He hitched himself up on his elbows, staring hungrily as Heero's caresses coaxed him fuller and further. "Is that how you do all your business?"

"Find out yourself..." hissed Heero, his head down at Duo's groin now, and his tongue lapping underneath his wrinkling sac.

"Do I need an appointment, then?" gasped Duo. He relaxed back into the touch; he'd concentrated on Heero's enjoyment so far, and now he was aware of the heavy, aching need between his own legs. Heero's mouth was very insistent... he felt a delicious lassitude creeping over his limbs. His legs stretched wider, his hips straining up to capture Heero's wet touch.

"I can give you ten minutes -" Heero laughed gently. His breath brushed through Duo's pubic hairs. "Got nothing else in my diary at the moment -"

"Only ten minutes -!" protested Duo, and then the impatient lips were on his cock, and the strong, confident fingers were probing at his entrance, and he felt his body opening out to Heero as if his very soul were being peeled open. "Damn... guess I'm not even going to last that long -!"

"So shut the fuck up and relax," growled Heero's voice, and Heero's tongue was savouring him, and Heero's fingers were inside him, and Heero's touch was pressing sweetly on that very spot, that he always seemed to find so very easily and surely -

Duo felt the ripple of agony and ecstasy roll from his head down to his curling toes. Suddenly all the jokes had gone - the talk had almost deserted him. He could feel the saltiness of tears at the corners of his eyes, and he was scared of what it might mean. Perhaps the shock of the evening was finally catching up with him. His body arched up, reaching for Heero. "Hold me, Heero -" he gasped. "That's what you said you'd do, man -"

"Trust me, Duo..." came Heero's voice, as if from a long way away - he sounded suddenly worried; worried for Duo. Possessive of him; protective. "It's going to be all right. I'm still here - I always will be, as long as you want me. You wanted proof...let me show you!" His arm was tight around Duo's waist - his lips were at his groin. It was as if he tried to breathe his feelings into his lover; he wanted to be with him - wanted to become part of him -

Duo groaned loudly, feeling the climax approaching fierce and *fast*!

Heero felt the shudder along Duo's body - saw the muscles tighten across his torso. He wanted to be inside him, but they had nothing to hand and he didn't want to disturb him any further. This was enough; this was more than enough! To take him into his mouth; to put his fingers inside him, stimulating him so that his long, lean body stretched and shivered and begged for release -

"Soon - be there -!" gasped Duo.

"Soon is good!" laughed Heero; a throaty, greedy sound. It reverberated around the cock sheathed deep in his mouth - he dragged his tongue one last time along the vein; he crooked his finger so that it pressed one last, sweet time on Duo's prostate.

Duo cried loudly when he came in Heero's mouth; very loudly, with a voice full of ecstasy and anguish.

He cried Heero's name.

+

Duo stood in the middle of the expansive, luxurious dining room, and whistled loudly. He was dressed in a fluorescent green tee shirt with some barely legible slogan splashed across it, and jeans that hung low on his hips, and were frayed around the hems. He looked rather under-dressed, and totally careless of the fact.

"Look at this place! You'll turn a boy's head, Yuy, with your mansion!"

They had called the limo at just after dawn; there was no sign of reporters at the gallery at that hour, though Heero thought they shouldn't leave it any longer. They'd showered quickly, and he'd dragged his suit and shirt back on. Duo had clambered into clean clothes, grumbling all the while about needing sleep, and Heero had packed a few things for him to take, in case they stayed away for a few days or more.

Then Heero had parcelled up the 4:Y picture; Duo had thrown in a sketchpad and set of pencils; and the limo had arrived to take them to Heero's house.

Heero stood by his dining room table, leaning against the back of a chair, watching Duo's reaction. He straightened up, and his hands automatically checked the zip of his pants. It had been an eventful journey here - him, Duo and Duo's rampant libido! Heero had found just enough time to close the hatch in the limo before Duo fell on his lap with laughter and lips; he'd barely gotten them both through the front door of his house before Duo had pushed him against the wall, slipped his jacket off on to the floor, and began nipping at his neck.

Heero was damned glad there were no permanent staff here!

Now he pushed the chair back under the table, at the same time trying to push away a fantasy that nagged at him; a vision of peeling those outrageous clothes off Duo; of laying his naked body back on this very table; of kneeling up on the chair so that he was leaning between Duo's thighs - of Duo reaching for his pants zip with one hand, and brandishing a foil packet in the other, whispering and urging him to take him, hard...

He was hot again, he sighed. Damned hot! His hair felt a mess; his business clothes felt sticky on his tired body. His skin shivered hot and cold. He'd never felt so continuously aroused in all his life! He wondered if Duo would want to do it in every room of the house, not just the beds? He thought it very likely, judging by the stamina of the man's sexual appetite.

And you'll enjoy every minute! he admitted, with a secret smile. They fed off each other - the desire was as eager in both of them.

"It's no mansion, Duo, just a house. A big one, I guess. I never really thought about it -"

"Like hell," grinned Duo. He gazed at full-length tapestry curtains; smooth, polished parquet floor; minimalist but expensive fittings around the walls. A gentleman's room - a rich gentleman's room.

"No, seriously -" Heero spoke slowly. He was surprised that he'd never considered it that way; Duo challenged so many things in his life. Duo provoked him, time and again...

"I like the freedom that money gives me. I'm not about to give it all up! But I don't find that much enjoyment in spending it. I don't add any more furniture - don't redecorate any more often. I just like things to be attractive - and efficient..."

"Hon," came Duo's whisper at his ear. "I'm teasing you! You need some work on that sense of humour." His hand brushed at Heero's ass, squeezing a cheek. "Doesn't matter to me whether you're in a mansion or a mud hut. Well - that's an exaggeration of course. I'm a little too spoiled now, to squat for relief in a mud hut..."

"Does it annoy you? Embarrass you - that I have money?"

Duo snorted. "D'you think I'm some kinda fortune hunter? I've never been embarrassed by money, Heero. Just never had any of my own for any length of time. It's useful - it's -" Description escaped him for a moment. "It's there, isn't it? Or it isn't. I've known both."

There was the distant ring of a telephone, but Heero didn't move to answer it. "Quatre knows to call me on my cell phone," he said. "So do my managers. And the police... Anything else will be journalists or stalkers."

"You sure they won't be stakin' out the house as well? The press 'n all?" Duo's voice was only half amused.

"The security firm will keep a cordon around the grounds - no-one can get nearer than the gate without my permission," replied Heero. "I said we'd be safe here; hidden for a while."

"To take stock of things -" suggested Duo.

"Yes." Heero flushed a little. "And so I have the chance to show you the one thing I do spend my money on; my collection. I want to share it with you."

"Yeah, I remember. I said after the show - I want to see it." Duo wondered why Heero looked almost nervous. Christ, he'd seen enough art not to be surprised at anything! OK, so he had his own tastes, but he somehow thought that there wouldn't be much in Heero's gallery that he'd hate. They were so damned different in some ways, weren't they? But they both loved the emotion of paintings - the drama of art. And this was important to Heero - this was his personal collection. Duo felt a warmth at being included so insistently.

Heero led him down the corridor and to a door with heavy security bolts.

"Hey, Heero," smiled Duo, as Heero unlocked the door. "They're not all gonna be black 'n white are they? You havin' your special disability, or whatever -?" He was damned tired; he was wondering when he'd get shown to a bed, both for some rest and some better discovery of that gorgeous body -

Then the paintings were there in front of him - and he was stunned into temporary speechlessness.

+

The door opened into a long, rectangular room, with tastefully dimmed lighting that came on automatically as they entered. There were padded leather couches along the centre of the room, and the occasional low cupboard with wide, shallow drawers like an artist's bureau. Along the walls, the paintings hung in modest, tasteful frames; only twenty or so in total. But it was a magnificent collection; there were examples of several schools of painting; they spanned several centuries. There was the passionate movement of a Reubens painting - the graphic boldness of a Lichtenstein - an early anatomical sketch of El Greco. Colour was present everywhere - but of more importance was the emotion and sensual impact of the content, assailing the spectator from all sides.

Duo walked slowly along the room, scouring each painting with a critical eye and a heart full of pleasure.

"It's great, Heero!" he exclaimed, with genuine delight. "You're a dark horse, ain't ya? Keeping all these hidden away... Some of these are by my favourite artists - some pictures I thought had left the country. Some I've never even seen the artists before, but the fire in 'em is fantastic! The skill... the detail..." He turned from side to side, his arms instinctively sketching out his impressions. "I wanna spend some hours in here, y'know? With my pad - with some cool music. You have to let me! You've got great taste, man -" He turned to look back at Heero, and it was then that his eyes caught sight of some glossy papers pinned up on the wall by the door itself.

Heero watched him pale; he watched his words dry up. He was suddenly very afraid of what he might have done; how he may have hurt the man he was beginning to find more important than anything else in his life.

"Shit..." It was only a breath; a whisper from Duo.

"Forgive me, Duo," Heero rushed to say. "They're prints - they're copies, just for my own interest -"

"They're Solo's sketches," hissed Duo.

"Yes," admitted Heero. There were four pictures, spread out on the pale walls. They were, of course, only copies, but the quality was excellent, so that the impact of the original sketches could be appreciated. They were striking, even in amongst the other exalted inhabitants of the room. Duo started to walk towards them, a little unsteadily. It had been so long since he'd seen either the sketches themselves or copies of them...

"Since I met you, Duo - since I heard the story about your history; I've been seeking information about the sketches." Heero was talking to him, though he had no idea if Duo were listening. "Perhaps I just wanted to see them. But then, recently, I talked to Quatre about it all, and asked him to find details for me. I never realised he'd have the information to hand; I never knew he was checking up on Remy. He had these copy prints - he'd been interested in bidding for the sketches himself, when they came up to auction. I asked to have the copies - to display them here."

"It's like you were stalkin' me, Heero -" whispered Duo. He was only a couple of feet away from the sketches when he stopped. His eyes never moved from them. "Thought I heard you say I'd be safe from that here."

"That's damned unfair, Duo, and you know it! You're being deliberately provocative -"

"That's what being damned unfair is all about," growled Duo.

Heero bit his lip to try to keep back his retort. He breathed deeply; he held himself back from approaching Duo. "I found them so moving, I wanted to spend more time with them; see what all the fuss was about. I know you better, now. I felt I was getting close to you, and I thought -" Heero paused. Hell, he hadn't expected to have to apologise - but after the shock of Remy's confessions, he realised that the sketches may be a lot more to Duo than just a magnificent piece of art. He'd not thought it through - he'd no experience of such a complex relationship as that of Duo and his brother.

"You thought..." Duo echoed. His voice was very cold. "You thought you had the right to own my life as well as your own."

"No!" protested Heero. "Christ, haven't we been here already? I want you to have your own life, Duo - I don't want to own you! Perhaps my thought was that these would be a further connection between us!" He sighed, his anger rising along with his frustration. Everything was so damned close to the surface with Duo! He wasn't prepared for it - he wasn't sufficiently armoured against the man's moods. "Guess it's too much to ask, to get a better understanding of you -"

"Too fucking right it is!" snapped Duo.

"You're pulling away from me again!" hissed Heero. "You're not giving me a chance to explain, what I wanted to know about you -"

"There's nothing to fucking know!" Duo almost shouted. "I'm *nothing*, remember?"

Heero's mouth clamped shut. He didn't have the words - and after the trauma of the previous night, and the heavy making out they'd done, he didn't have the energy either.

Duo had stopped talking, too. He gazed at the pictures, one by one. He put out a hand and touched at the sleek paper; wonderingly. After all, this was his history, wasn't it?

The four sketches followed a definite progression - a template for Duo's life. They weren't specific drawings of him, but the implication was unmistakable in each. There was a laughing head; a young boy in his teens - no older - finding a joke from somewhere around him. The laughter was generous - the grin infectious. Then there were two heads bent over a pad and pencils, hair brushing, smiles mirroring each other, and yet separate personalities; Solo and Duo, presumably, as growing young men. The third sketch was an outside study, of two young men running, or playing some game, or just messing about in the park. Their limbs were long, and strong, and beautiful in the way of Greek statues; contemporary athletes; modern gods. The fourth sketch seemed further on in time, though the illustrated figure still appeared as young as both Heero and Duo were today. It was a more contemplative theme; the man was relaxing in a deep, soft chair, whilst still managing to look alert, coiled like a spring. The tension could be seen in his limbs, curled under him - though the drawn lines were softer in this sketch; there was deliberate smudging around the profile of his body in the chair.

"Did that last one just after I bawled him out for upsettin' Trow again," murmured Duo, a little breathlessly.

And then he smiled; his face relaxing with his familiar, rapid change of mood.

"They were damned good, weren't they?"

Heero was unsure of his ground, but he stepped forward cautiously. "I - yes, they were. They still are. Duo, are you upset? I never thought - it's too much, after last night -"

Duo turned towards him then, and reached out. He touched his fingers to Heero's lips, sealing the words in. "I'm a shit, Heero. Guess I'm a little more strung out this morning than I thought I'd be. But that's no excuse to treat you like that."

"If that's an apology -" sighed Heero. His lips ghosted for the touch of Duo's fingertips.

"It is," admitted Duo. "Not something I've had much practice with."

"I want you to trust me, Duo," said Heero, softly. "Like I trusted you with the gallery. I want to make things good for you."

Duo sighed. "I know. It's just - some things you can't control. The feelings these guys brought out in me - it's a shock, Heero."

He moved away again, and even closer to the wall; he pressed his hand flat to the last picture. "They're me, aren't they? Not just me as a theme - but my life in pictures. Like people kept telling me at the time - 'til I was fucking sick to hear it anymore. I was glad they were sold, y'know? Glad my life would be back in my hands, rather than just on scraps of canvas and in strokes of a pencil. Of Solo's pencil! I felt I was only seen as part of Solo himself - I was only ever in his shadow."

Heero saw Duo's shoulders sag. His voice was low, but defiant. "And then I was my own person, because he was gone - and the sketches were gone as well."

"But -?" Heero prompted, gently. He moved forward, to stand behind his lover, as he stared at the evidence of his brother's legacy.

Duo's mouth twisted in a wry smile. "But I missed 'em. I loved 'em, y'see. Trowa said it best - they're the best work he ever did. He said he saw Solo in them; the vibrancy, the depth of his feeling."

Duo's shoulders were shaking slightly. "Miss him too, I guess..."

Heero couldn't let this pass - his heart ached for Duo as if the bereavement had been his own. He opened his arms and took hold of Duo's shoulders - he drew him against him and hugged him close. Duo's body tensed for a second; then it relaxed into the embrace. His arm snaked around Heero's waist; his head buried itself in Heero's shoulder, his face pressed against the silk fabric of his shirt.

"You'll get them back," said Heero, as firmly as he could, with the lump in his throat. "When they find the original sale was fraudulent - they'll be taken back from her, from Remy. They'll be returned to you."

He gazed at the pictures himself. "That's why I'm drawn to them myself, I think - because they're part of your life. I want to offer you something, Duo; I want to help you get them back - because they're yours. They should be with you."

Duo gave a snort; he ran his hand over his eyes, though he kept his head buried away from Heero's direct sight. "You're a damned fool, Heero Yuy, y'know? 'S not your problem. You've already offered me enough."

Heero sighed. "I thought I took from you..."

"No!" snapped Duo, and now he lifted his head to stare fiercely at Heero. "You didn't take anything from me, Heero, y'hear? Well, you did - that was misery, and inertia, and self-pity. Guess I can live without them!"

"Hey, I just..."

"Shut up!" interrupted Duo. His voice was harsh, but his eyes sparkled. "You've given a hell of a lot to me already - some interest in life again - a measure of personal success and satisfaction that I thought I'd lost. Christ, what more can I ask?" He lifted his own arms to grasp at Heero's shoulders. "It was me who wanted to give - because I've been taking from you all this time!"

"You gave me your drawing -" murmured Heero. He wasn't sure if they were arguing any more - he wasn't entirely sure what this was all about. He also wasn't sure what Duo would say if he leaned forward now and kissed the damp, talkative mouth into temporary silence. "I'm damned confused here, Maxwell - there appears to be an embarrassment of gifts between us, doesn't there?"

Duo laughed, awkwardly. His own eyes had dropped, to gaze at Heero's mouth, as if he knew what the other man was thinking. "I'm not sure that makes us quits, though, Heero -?"

Heero was sure of one thing now - he was going to kiss Duo quiet. "Good enough for me at the moment, Duo..." he murmured.

"Kiss me."

And for once in his life, Duo did what he was told.

+

Heero stirred in Duo's arms, relishing the delicious shivers running through his body. They didn't do anything more than kiss - he tasted, and savoured, and sucked lightly on Duo's tongue. He felt the tense muscles of Duo's arms under his hands, the thin jersey fabric of his shirt bunched up in his palm. He also felt the sensual response throughout the other man's limbs, as they slowly began to relax. He heard a soft moan from deep inside Duo's throat.

But nothing more; no more talk. He'd kissed Duo into silence, as he'd wanted to do; as he'd hoped he could. That response was the best gift that Duo could have given him.

He broke gently away, and watched Duo lick up the thin trail of saliva that still bound their mouths. "There's more, Duo."

"Huh?" Duo sounded sleepy. "You're some kinda insatiable, Yuy -"

"No," smiled Heero. "Not that - not just now. I meant that there's another reason I wanted you to see my collection. Not just because these are the some of the few things I really care for; the few things that are close to me, and that I never show to others."

"'Cept me," sighed Duo. He looked flushed.

"Uh-huh," agreed Heero, still smiling. "Let me explain; when you started sketching again - that first time I saw your work... it woke something in me - some recognition."

"Of what?"

Heero ignored him; he didn't answer directly. "I'd never seen the sketches then, you know? But when these prints arrived, and I had a chance to study them - I was even more sure of that feeling."

"Stop with the mysteries," groaned Duo.

"Hush," warned Heero. He was rather flushed now, too. He moved away from Duo, albeit reluctantly, and went over to one of the low cupboards against the wall. "Obviously every artist has their own style - there's a signature that's unique. But you admitted yourself, that your work was sometimes reminiscent of your brother's style. And so I was reminded of a work I already owned - that I bought a couple of years ago."

"What are you telling me, Heero?" Duo suddenly looked wary.

"This mystery about Solo's missing sketches - the other two. I think that everyone thought to look for the last two, assuming that either he stopped the series, or that the final two were lost somewhere. But I suspect that it was the first ones that were missing - two at the beginning of the series!"

Duo's voice sounded rather stilted. "It's generally assumed that he never finished the series, Heero."

Heero ignored him again, and pointed to the prints on the wall in front of them. "You can see the pattern of these four, can't you? The path towards maturity. This final one shows you almost as you are today - adult - the last in the series. Don't you see it, Duo?"

Duo grunted; he stared at Heero. "Don't see where you're going with this -"

"I've got one of the earlier sketches, Duo."

Duo's head snapped up, his eyes wide and astonished. "You what?"

"Remy was right, in a way, though it was pure coincidence. There was another sketch to be found; and maybe she would have found it, if her break-in had been successful. I just didn't realise I had it until recently."

Heero's breath was a little ragged. "Until I knew you."

He was opening one of the drawers of the cupboard; his hands shook a little with excitement. "My agent got it, I never knew where from. I didn't take as much interest as I should have done when I first started collecting. I always liked and appreciated what I had - like your paintings. I mean, I was fascinated by them - they're some of my favourites. But you were right in what you said to me once, I never really understood what was involved in art." He turned back to Duo, eyes shining. "And then, when I saw you drawing - it was fascinating! I admired you so much - I learned so much. I felt damned inadequate, to tell you the truth - what good was I, just collecting - when you could create?"

"Heero..." Duo's voice was only a thread of noise. Heero spoke on, overriding it.

"And then the style grew familiar - something about the movement of the outlines. It reminded me of my own possession, like I said." He pulled out a wrapped package. Very small - unframed. "I never got to framing it, in all this time...it felt fragile, you know? I kept it protected in here."

He unfolded the wrappings - he held out the exposed artwork to Duo. Duo's gaze shifted to the offered picture, and his face paled.

Their eyes met.

+

It was another sketch, indeed. A little smaller than the others - but to a similar theme; and held next to the copy sketches, it was obvious that it was by the same artist.

It was of a boy - a young boy, less than ten years old, twisting round to look at someone behind him. His face was sketched in just a couple of strokes - a mischievous grin; a wide eye. He had long hair, braided down his back. It was the most identifiable sketch of Duo in the whole set. It wasn't as finished as the others - there were rough lines that hadn't been inked in; shading that hadn't been finished. It looked as if it were a practice run; a prelude to later, more mature work.

But it held the same magic.

They both turned their gaze back to it, Heero reminding himself of its attraction. "It's not just the style that was familiar," he murmured. "It was you, as well - it's so obviously you. It had lodged inside me, even before I knew you personally."

"Jeez..." gasped Duo. "So there it is. Shit..."

Heero wasn't sure whether Duo was pleased or not. The man's expression was a blank page of amazement.

"Duo...?"

Duo sighed. He didn't turn to look at Heero. "'S OK. Just another damned shock! Seems like an embarrassment of them today, eh? But I'm glad you've got it, Heero. Honestly." When Heero put a hand back on his shoulder, he nudged into the touch.

"I should've been with him that night, y'know? The night he died. But I'd had another row with him, the day before - about Trowa. About him seeing other people all the time. We weren't talking, and I took myself out for the night, leaving him to go to the exhibition on his own. Or not, as the case may be." He groaned. "All those other partners; it was just sex for him, and I guess Trow knew that, too. It was up to them whether they were content with what they had. I wasn't very mature about the whole thing, I 'spose; just greedy for him, myself."

He turned his head round, and gazed at Heero. He put his own hand over his lover's. "He was sorta my sanctuary - I needed him. But pretty soon I knew it wasn't a role he particularly enjoyed - I just didn't wanna admit it."

"This is a chance to move on, Duo," said Heero, quietly. "There's no guilt attached to you - now we all know the truth. Your life should never have been so troubled - your career should have been allowed to run its course. You should have been given your chance."

The flicker of suspicion danced in Duo's sharp eyes. "You were at the opening, weren't you? The opening of the Maxwell gallery; when I launched my work, and my brave new career. You bought a painting that night, I know - but I bet you visited in person, as well."

Heero's eyes widened. How the hell had he guessed? "Yes. I don't quite know why, because it wasn't scheduled for me; and I was buying most of my art through agents still. But the gallery was in the same business district - one of the reasons I subsequently wanted to buy it. I just thought I'd drop in and see what sort of art was being displayed."

"You see me?" asked Duo, slyly.

Heero nodded. "I saw you. You were front of house, showing all the vibrancy I've always admired in others. No, envied; though I was wary of it, as well. You seemed very - outrageous to me, then! But the show was impressive - a show that you apparently designed yourself - and I wanted to own one of your paintings. I remember thinking that I wanted to watch your career, though I pushed it out of my mind over the next year or so..."

"Pushed myself out of most minds, during that time..." growled Duo.

"I wanted to watch you," continued Heero, thoughtfully. "Though I never really understood why, then. And I never knew I wanted to know you like this -"

"Like this?" murmured Duo, mischievously. His mouth was breathing warm desire on Heero's cheek; his lips were touching firmly to the other man's mouth. His fingers sank into the dark, thick hair, and tugged the head towards him for the kiss.

"Uh-huh... mmm..." There wasn't any other intelligible noise for a while.

Duo broke away first, panting slightly. "Look, before we start making out on that lumpy leather couch, I wanna call someone - is that OK? She lives not far from here - I want her to bring me something."

Heero looked bemused. "No more secrets, Duo -"

"No, Heero," the braided man smiled. "That's what this is about - no more secrets!"

+

The young girl stood hesitantly at Heero Yuy's front door. She had spiky hair and bright, intelligent eyes. She wore jeans and a bright shirt, and clutched her bag nervously. When the door was opened by Duo, her face broke into a relieved smile.

"Duo! Hi..." She was nervous in a different way, now - her face was flushed, and her grin was affectionate. They both smiled at memories that were obviously very pleasant.

"Hi, Jo," he said, warmly. "Long time no see, eh?"

"Yeah," she replied. "You look good!"

Duo grinned. He knew he did. Despite the fact the button of his jeans was still undone, and his hair was escaping its braid in a couple of places. The leather couches in the art room were - as he'd suspected - damned uncomfortable places for a makeout session!

"Come on in, hon. So they let you in OK at the gate? I let 'em know you were coming, told 'em to smuggle you in discreetly..."

As she stepped into the spacious hallway, Jo looked over his shoulder and saw a tall, dark-haired man approach. He looked a little less tousled, and his expensive clothes were all in order; but she still felt a delicious, sensual charge from his presence. His dark eyes, in particular, were gorgeous pools of mysterious colour.

"This is Heero, Jo - Heero Yuy. It's his house, y'know."

She smiled, like she'd never have believed it was Duo's. "Mr Yuy," she said, formally. "I've read about you in the papers."

"Christ, I thought we'd escaped all that?" snapped Duo.

Jo stared at him, puzzled. "Mr Yuy is in the business papers, Duo, almost every week! I'm doing a Business Management course now, y'know - I follow a lot of his companies' stocks."

Duo laughed. "Oh - that! Of course - Mr Yuy's fame was well established before his notoriety!"

"Hush, Duo," said Heero, holding out a hand to her. "You're Duo's friend. So am I. Call me when you've graduated, if you're looking for a job."

Jo flushed, pleased.

"Lay off charmin' the girl, Heero, or I'm gonna get insanely jealous!" joked Duo.

Jo saw the way he laughed, but with his eyes fixed fiercely on Heero's face. She saw the way his hand brushed at Heero's hip, as if drawn there instinctively. She saw the light sparkle in Heero's eyes, and the way he quickly moistened his lips.

It wasn't her causing the jealousy, she realised, with a little burst of embarrassment. She wondered if she'd always known that Duo liked guys as well as girls. She'd certainly always felt he treated her well; she just wished it could have been for a little longer.

But he did look good - very good! - and she was pleased for him. She smiled to herself.

"Gotta go soon, Duo," she said, carefully. "I've got a class later on this afternoon. I got a bus here -"

"And Heero will arrange for you to get back, I hope!" announced Duo, cheerfully. Heero nodded agreement.

Duo turned back to Jo. "So - to business. Did you bring it?"

"Sure," she said. "I have it here. Just like you always told me - you'd call for it sometime." She reached into the cloth bag and pulled out a small package. It was about the same size as the one that Heero had uncovered earlier. Duo felt his lover's body tense beside him.

Duo spoke softly as Jo started to unwrap her little bundle. "You see, Heero, I haven't been entirely honest about the sketches. But I thought it was best, y'know - I couldn't stand the hassle, and the questions, and the arguments that were going round at that time."

"What do you mean?"

Duo's smile was a little sad. "I knew that Solo's first two sketches were the ones missing. You're right about the pattern of the set - the progression of his work. I always knew - and yet I let people believe they'd been lost, or burned, or were never there in the first place. I felt that Solo - and me! - had been harassed enough for them. I told you - I was pleased in some ways to see the back of 'em!"

"But you didn't know I had this one -"

"No," sighed Duo, ruefully. "I didn't. Some kinda irony, that! That's the second one of the series that you have now. God knows how it made its way here! He probably sold it to your agent for a bottle of something - or for a shag. Was too ashamed to tell me - or forgot about it afterwards. I wouldn't put it past him. Remy was right about that, too - Solo was only ever interested in the creative process. The possession, and the selling, and the security issues - he had little care of them."

The parcel was unwrapped - Jo was drawing out a slim square of board, with a drawing attached. Heero drew in a sharp breath.

"The very first one, Heero..." Duo's voice was very low, and drained of his usual vivacity. "He'd already given to me. When he drew the rest, he said he'd ask me for it back, but of course he never bothered. After all, I was to have them all anyway. He was always very sure about that."

Jo held out the drawing for them both to see. Her face was a little sombre.

It was an even more casual sketch than the other, but it some ways, it was more emotive. It showed a figure curled on a cushion; maybe a baby, maybe a toddler. One of its plump hands stretched out for something; the pencil strokes followed the line of the developing bones. Its eyes were mere dots in amongst the lines of curved limbs, but despite the cursory sketching, they were bright and somehow fully expressive. At first glance, the sketch might have looked banal and rather hackneyed; but some quality in it drew eyes back, to investigate further. To see the flush of soft, immature skin in the shading; to see the promise of intelligence, and humour, and a rather mischievous look in the child's expression, that a more obvious 'baby' picture wouldn't show.

"It's lovely," said Heero, simply. There was a smile on his face - the sketch seemed to provoke that warm, protective feeling.

"Yeah," murmured Duo, close to his shoulder. "I didn't know what to do with it, to tell you the truth. I never wanted to display it - and Solo didn't seem interested in having it back. Yet I wouldn't have gotten rid of it. So..." He smiled over at Jo. "Jo was the pretty girl I was with at the end of my first exhibition, Heero - she shared that day with me, as well as you. I guess we might have had a longer time together, if I hadn't been such an arrogant prick, thinking everythin' would always go well for me - that I had the world and its pleasures queuin' up to entertain little old me." He grinned at her, a little sheepishly. "She was a good friend to me, then. So I asked her to look after the sketch."

She smiled back at him, remembering an exotic, exciting, unpredictable time. It had been good! But it was past, now. She held out the sketch to Duo.

"I'm gonna miss it," she sighed. "But it belongs back with you."

+

Jo had been taken home in the limo, causing quite a stir amongst the few tenacious reporters who hung around the gates to the estate. Most of them had missed her quiet arrival, and now they could only imagine who was behind the darkened windows; they didn't really have the heart or the waning interest to follow it any further. Besides, a call was coming through to them, about a breaking story in the city - a top model being taken in for police questioning! That had a damned sight more potential than a reclusive gay couple, didn't it?

Inside the house, Heero and Duo stared at the sketches, together at last, in one form or another, safe in Heero's art room. There were the four in copy on the wall, and two in real life, propped up on stools beside them. It was like a history of Duo's life - his growing up; his coming of age.

"You forgive me for not tellin' you the truth, Heero?"

"I suppose so," replied the dark-haired man. "I understand your reasons." It had all been a long time ago, long before he knew Duo - it wasn't his concern, really. And now the whole story was out in the open, which could only be for the best. He suspected that Duo would always have the power to surprise him.

"You like 'em?"

"Yes, very much." Heero appraised them as best he could, considering how it was his heart that they spoke to, not his head. "They don't have the aggression of your paintings, nor the tactile impact of your drawing; but your brother was obviously an extremely talented man. They're illustrations of you, Duo - they're strokes of emotion; of feeling. They're magnificent..."

"They'll be worth a fortune now," mused Duo. "Especially when all six are together."

Heero smiled, pleased with his lover's sudden turn of good fortune. "And they're all yours, Duo."

There was a long silence; so much so, that Heero turned to Duo in concern.

Duo bit at his lip; he took a deep breath. "You can have 'em, Heero."

Heero's brow furrowed. "What? No, you don't know what you're saying -"

"Don't treat me like a child, Heero Yuy!" snapped Duo.

"That's not what I meant! But they're your inheritance - they're your fortune -" Heero was protesting, unsure of how Duo's mind was working.

"You think that's what I want?" Duo turned to face him, now. His wide eyes were alight with excitement. "An inheritance? A fortune?"

Heero gave a sharp, low cry of frustration. "Shit, when do I ever know what you want? So what do you mean?"

"Heero -" Duo paused; he looked a little scared, but determined. "Let me have the gallery back! Like you said, once - when I told you not to be fucking stupid!"

Heero shook his head, bewildered. "I will -"

"No, listen to me properly!" Duo urged. He grabbed at Heero's arm in his enthusiasm. "Keep the sketches in payment - they've gotta be worth enough, haven't they? They're all I've got!"

"I -" said Heero. He tried to form words, but abandoned most of them for a sigh. "Go on."

"The sketches were Solo's - but the gallery was mine. It was all I cared about - all I ever wanted! And the sketches can buy it back for me. For anyone else, I'd say that they're not for sale now, y'know - I let 'em go once, 'cos of my confusion and stupidity. But this'd be different - I could trust 'em with you. We'll worry about the damned legalities in the morning - Christ, I haven't even got the four back yet, have I? - but I'd be more 'n happy for you to have 'em."

He drew a deep, excited breath. "And I can have my dreams back."

"God, what sort of a negotiator are you?" moaned Heero. His arm was pinched where Duo had gripped it. He was very conscious of Duo's body close to him; his shallow, rushed breath; his quickening heartbeat.

"So you - agree -?" Duo's words were nervous. "You can keep 'em, or sell 'em to Quatre - I promise when they're yours, I won't interfere any more -"

"I wouldn't sell them on," said Heero, gently. "Why would I? If they were mine, I'd treasure them - just like you trust me to."

"Shit, Heero...you are too much..."

"Would you let me keep a stake in the gallery? You can have my people to work for you - my company's sponsorship -"

Duo was staring at him with wide, slightly astonished eyes. "Kinda assumed that already, Yuy! I'm not that much of a businessman, as you know - I'd need help. Is that a 'yes', then?"

They smiled at each other. "That's a 'yes'," said Heero. His voice sounded as if it came from another world. He felt Duo's hand leave his arm, and snake round his waist. He leaned into the touch, anticipating a new kiss, and his lips opened a little wider. "'Yes' to a lot of things..."

Duo was sliding his tongue into his mouth - he was scared by what he'd agreed with Heero, but thrilled as well. He liked the taste of 'yes' in Heero's mouth; he liked the taste of surprise, and delight, and even the passive lust of weariness. They both needed rest - they needed to sit down and assimilate all that had happened. Or lie down, thought Duo. Assimilation's always damned good, lying down...

Heero might well have been thinking the same. His hands were busy in return, at Duo's hips and ass, and Duo resigned himself to some more making out on that damned couch, 'cos he didn't think that either of them would wait to move elsewhere...

Heero was whispering into his ear. "Will you - stay then?"

"Stay?" Duo grasped at what little sense he had left. Heero's lips were always very greedy around his neck... "Was I going somewhere?"

"I thought, what with your career success - getting back your dreams -"

Duo snorted gently, though the effect was a little lost because Heero's tongue was still questing around his mouth. "You think the gallery's the only dream I ever had, Yuy? I got one that involves you, too -"

"Just one?"

"Just one," grinned Duo, and earned himself a nip on the shoulder blade. He wondered blearily at what stage he'd lose his shirt this time. His nipples were erect at the mere thought of Heero's teasing tongue. "But it's a damned busy one...and you do know what I want, don't you? Whatever you said earlier -"

"Yeah, I do," interrupted Heero. "You want me, pants wide open, and spreading your butt-naked body across the dining room table -"

Christ, thought Duo, as Heero's lips descended on to his again. Is the man psychic or somethin'?

+

Duo sat on the couch, now, clothes in disarray, but with a slightly stupid, satisfied grin on his face. Heero came back in through the open door of the art room, carrying the packaged 4:Y. He had a matching look on his face, though at least he'd buttoned his pants back up.

"Where will you hang all this art, Heero?" asked Duo.

"The sketches will go to the gallery, I think," Heero replied. "Your gallery. And your picture for me -"

"Not there!" said Duo, abruptly. He flushed a little. "Sorry - didn't mean to -"

"No," said Heero. "I agree. It should be where we both are."

Duo's eyes sparked with pleasure. "That's right. That's cool. 4:Y..."

"Connection," said Heero, putting the parcel down without unwrapping it. "Our connection." He knew that look in Duo's eyes, by now. He wondered how far it was to the dining room, and whether the surface of the table had been polished recently. He wondered if they'd ever find time to eat and sleep...

"Connection, Heero. Sure. Ahh -"

"Duo?"

"Can we try some of that out, right now?"

"Can we go to bed first?" gasped Heero, backing towards the door.

"Thought you'd never ask," growled Duo. "Where's the first one?"

+

Earlier on, there'd been a lot of laughter from the main bedroom, and some ominous creaking and crashing noises. The thick carpet was wet with a trail of footprints from the bathroom towards the bed. It was a large, king-size bed. There were discarded clothes on the floor of the bathroom - discarded towels at the foot of the bed. There weren't many sheets around, either. There were half-empty plates of snack food - a couple of drinks by the bedside.

"What time is it, Heero?" came a sleepy, satiated voice. "How long have we slept?"

"I don't know. Afternoon, maybe? Early evening?"

"You wanna get a sandwich? You make me damned hungry...we could make fuckin' an Olympic sport...!" His laugh was throaty, and rich.

Heero sighed, and pulled himself to a sitting position. The picture 4:Y was propped up on a bureau at the foot of the bed, resting against a mirror. It was turned towards the bed, gazing down at the two men stretched out there. He stared at it, enjoying the proprietary feeling inside him.

"Your paintings, Duo. Why do you call them numbers, or abbreviations? Not proper names..."

There was a stirring beside him, rocking the deep mattress. Duo pulled himself upright too, and the pair of them watched themselves, reflected in the mirror. Heero looked a delicious mixture of exhaustion and contentment; his hair fell over his forehead in a very uncharacteristic mess, and his eyes showed heavy lids over still, dark depths. His torso glistened with a few drops from his earlier shower, and the occasional trail of something that was a little more substantial than water.

Duo scrunched up his eyes, and sighed at his own vision - his hair was all over the place, including several strands that tickled at the corner of his slightly sticky mouth. There were long, pink creases along his legs, where he'd been tangled in the only sheet to survive their lovemaking; his palm still nestled gently in between Heero's legs. Heero had been very careful not to dislodge it when he woke up.

"I never saw any other need," he yawned. "No need to commit names to things; to own them. 'Praps I do, now." His eyes strayed away from his own bodily wreckage, and over to the picture in question. "That picture, Heero - that's how I feel about you, y'know? You helped me start to draw again. Dammit, I'm still strugglin' with these damned words..."

Heero murmured reassurance into his neck, and for a moment, they just hugged. "You're my inspiration, man," murmured Duo. "You've opened my world. Opened me..."

"I wasn't properly alive until I met you," said Heero, simply. "I don't know how else to describe it! You'll have no time for sentiment, I know. But look what else you did for me!" He gestured at the picture. "I can only admire your talent..."

Duo shrugged, and the ripple through his muscles ran along Heero's nerves, too. He tightened his hold on the dark-haired man. "You gotta talent too, Heero. For getting things done..." He kissed his shoulder, lightly. "For seeing things in me that I'd given up on." He pressed his lips against the skin, in a sensual, but not overtly sexual way.

"Hold me, Heero," he said, so quietly that Heero had to bend his head to hear him. "I guess sentiment can have its place..."

There was a time, then, of giving comfort - of caring. The two men held each other tightly, and if the mirror had possessed any discretion, it might have drawn a blind over itself, to leave them to stumble through their private messages to each other.

+

"I'll see your colours for you, Heero," whispered Duo. He was lying against Heero's side; he was stroking the dark flesh and gazing at the pair of them in the mirror. He loved the sight of the two skin textures together; the muscle tone; the stretched limbs, entwined around each other. He'd never spent time savouring the look of bodies together - of him and Heero together. It was very delicious. Dammit, he wanted his sketchpad here; he wanted to get this feeling - this vision! - down on paper!

Then he smiled, feeling Heero's weight roll against him. There'd be other times, he guessed.

He watched Heero's hand slide across his belly, and trace gently at his tattoo. "I don't need you to see them for me, Duo. I can taste them in you." His mouth was warm and insistent. Duo liked it a lot when Heero took the initiative; he allowed himself to enjoy it, now, as well. He opened his lips, and sucked happily on the strong, wet muscle of Heero's tongue.

"And I'll be your sanctuary..." murmured Heero.

"Sounds good..." sighed Duo, happily.

There were a few minutes that were given up to a slowly awakening passion. Heero slid his way over Duo's body, hands reaching to touch possessively at hidden places. Their bodies started to heat up; the sweat sprang gently to their skin. The solitary sheet slipped off the bed in defeat.

"Enough of the mutual appreciation society," growled Duo. "About who's been the making of whom." He licked his lips and contemplated the stirring in his loins. "Roll over, Yuy, and get ready to be truly appreciated!" His hands were doing the caressing, now; his eyes drinking in the strong, slim, dark body stretched out beneath him. "I think I got the better of this whole deal, y'know -"

Heero laughed with a relaxed delight. "No, not at all! Anything I gave to you, it's an investment!"

"In me?" snorted Duo.

"In us!"

Duo snickered softly, and his mouth started its restless path down Heero's body again. "Get dividends, do you?"

"Damn well hope so," came the groan in reply.

"You said it," came Duo's sultry mumble. "And I do give damned good head!"

Heero could find no response except a moan.

The sounds that followed were wet, and hot, and increasing in hunger.

"I want you, Heero. Not ghosts - just you. Only ever you -"

Always talking, Heero sighed to himself. For a man who says he struggles with words, he sure is full of 'em -!

"You've got me, Duo - as long as you want me. God, don't stop - yes, right there!" He arched underneath the yearning, consuming lips. "And I'm real. This is real, isn't it?"

"Tastes like it, thank God," came the answering mumble. "Could still do with a sandwich, though!"

Heero gasped; Duo chuckled. There were more hungry, tormenting sounds

"Heero...We gotta go back to real life sometime, haven't we?"

"Yes," sighed Heero. "Sometime, I guess."

"Good answer. Sometime is good," grinned Duo. "So, tomorrow I'll draw -"

"And I'll watch."

"And the dining room needs attention -" smirked the braided man.

Heero's protest was a mixture of laughter, and an exhausted plea, as Duo reached to pull him back down on to the bed.

They abandoned words then.

End

[part 11] [back to FancyFigures' fic]