This is the first
Heero POV in the Domestic Bliss Arc.
Category: Romance Warnings: shounen-ai, sap, mild angst, implied masturbation
Notes: Heero's POV (the first in the DB Arc!)
Arc: Domestic Bliss
I wait here at the boundaries
of dream All shadow-wrapped...
"The Vampire Sestina" Neil Gaiman
Sometimes I have nightmares.
To most, the very idea of me being plagued by dream demons is just inconceivable.
When people look at me, all they usually see is this imperturbable, callous
being with hard, empty eyes almost hidden from underneath a mop of unruly
brown bangs. They think I'm strong; they think there is nothing in the
world that can frighten me - an assumption that is false in the purest
sense of the word. The world seems to think that if one does not fear
death, then one has transcended this certitude and has nothing more to
fear for the remainder of their life.
People are such fools.
I don't fear death because I put no value whatsoever on my own life, especially
now that the war is over. I was better at killing people than your average
soldier. So what? It's nothing to be proud of, as far as I'm concerned.
Some want to fall to their knees and worship the ground I walk on. I do
not understand this. Why would they want to do such a thing?
I can't even begin to tell you how many times I've pondered this senseless
question, letting the "why" run around over and over in my head
until I wish all thoughts could be purged from my mind forever. I think
far too much as it is. But after many musings, I have come up with a semi-satisfactory
answer. People never worship a person; they worship an ideal, a figurehead
- a symbol. The original Heero Yuy was a figurehead of peace, and his
inevitable death made him into an eternal legend. The same is undoubtedly
true with King Peacecraft of the Sanq Kingdom. The same WAS true with
Queen Relena Peacecraft until she disinherited herself and became Vice
Foreign Minister Darlian, breaking the cage that had held her family imprisoned
And the same is true with me. Heero Yuy. No, not the peace-oriented Heero
Yuy who campaigned in the colonies for total pacifism. I'm Heero Yuy the
soldier who fought for peace by destroying his enemies with sheer brute
force and coldhearted military tactics. Heero Yuy of the deep blue eyes
who does not allow his heart to be touched by any other. The one who destroyed
Libra and saved the Earth. The one who never cries, never smiles.
I'm the Perfect Soldier.
Give me a break.
If you cut my skin, my blood will run red, just like yours. If you say
cruel things to me, sometimes it'll hurt me, sometimes I won't care. And
I'm sure that if I ever cried, my tears would be hot and salty. Just like
yours. But I don't think I've ever cried in my entire life, at least not
that I remember. I have found that I unconsciously blot out memories that
may hinder my ability to function as a member of the Preventers. During
the day, I am safe from these bottled demons of the past. However, when
sleep overtakes me, I fall into the abyss of dream. Just like you do,
I'm sure. And I dream just like the next person. I have nightmares - fast
and furious nightmares filled with blood and tears and shattered innocence.
It's what every soldier fears after he has no more wars left to fight.
He fears the nightmares, or maybe he just fears fear. I know that I'm
afraid sometimes, late at night when I'm alone with agonizing memories,
hovering on the boundaries of dream, afraid to take the plunge into the
bitter sweetness of sleep. But I know that I am not the only one with
such a plight.
Sometimes Duo has nightmares, too.
I always hear him muttering his sleep, squirming and thrashing and getting
tangled in his thin sheets until he finally ends up unconsciously kicking
them to the floor, leaving himself exposed to the cold air of our room
at night. And always, if I find that sleep is unattainable for me, I'll
lay on my side and watch him sleep. Duo is not an attractive sleeper.
He kicks, rolls over, punches, talks, scratches, drools, snores, and makes
all sorts of odd noises within the embrace of his own dreams and nightmares.
But I like watching him; I don't know why. He still has the same style
of sleep from wartimes - a style that I am familiar with due to the time
we spent together at the numerous schools we were shuttled back and forth
to. New kids were always forced to room together, and I quickly learned
to deal with the nocturnal oddities of my unwanted colleague. It was another
burden that I needed to deal with for the sake of the mission.
Just another burden.
How times change. Back then, I never would have thought that, three and
a half years later, I would be sharing a bedroom with that very same braided
baka, willingly subjecting myself to his loud snores as he slobbered all
over his pillowcase. His eyelids fluttered slightly as he slumbered, his
tattered braid dangling off the edge of the bed, a few inches short of
brushing the carpet. I followed the braid's slight swinging motions with
my eyes, not the least bit drowsy. Duo shifted suddenly in his sleep,
flopping onto his back, legs spread wide and feet poking out from underneath
his thin sheets. His tongue darted out to wet his lips almost teasingly,
and I couldn't help but warily wonder what he was dreaming of.
Because sometimes Duo... other dreams. Dreams that I'm certain are not
of the nightmarish breed.
So far, I've only witnessed the passage of such dreams twice, and I can't
decide whether or not I want to see another one. Both times, they happened
the same way. Duo's breaths started coming hard and fast, his tongue in
constant motion, darting and flicking out repeatedly as if the air tasted
of something sweet. His body squirmed restlessly on the bed, fingers clenching
and unclenching in the sheets as a peculiar look of painful bliss appeared
on his handsome face. He began to make deep, erotic noises, moaning and
groaning as his hips suddenly took over much of his body's motions, writhing
underneath the sheets. And as I watched in rapt fascination, his dreaming
hands suddenly slid down the flat planes of his strong stomach and dropped
down into the area between his legs, grasping and fondling himself while
still in the grips of the dream, his moans of ecstasy filling the room.
And both times, as I watched Duo touch himself, I felt a sharp spike of
hot need lance through my belly and loins, so horribly unfamiliar and
frightening in a whole new way. For better or worse, Duo had always awakened
before he climaxed, and I had feigned sleep as he checked to make sure
I hadn't seen or heard anything before he made a desperate rush for the
bathroom. In the morning, he acted like nothing had happened.
His embarrassment confused me at the time. Didn't everybody do it?
Sometimes I catch myself wondering whom he was dreaming of? Who could
make him so hot that he felt the need to touch himself in his sleep?
But I concluded that he wasn't having one of THOSE dreams as I lay in
my bed watching him that night. There was no bliss on his face, and the
slight puckering between his graceful eyebrows only suggested discomfort,
maybe even pain. I lifted myself onto one elbow, peering calmly across
the room at my sleeping partner. I wondered if he was having another nightmare.
Then he suddenly snorted - very bull-like - and reached to clumsily scratch
the skin between his eyes. I rolled my eyes in exasperation. All he had
was a damn itch.
As if to reaffirm my conclusion, he yawned and scratched his bare chest
before rolling over onto his belly, snoring into the pillow. Rubbing the
side of my neck tiredly, my gaze instinctively drifted over where Duo's
digital alarm clock with its needlessly bright fluorescent numbers was
breaking cheerily through the darkness of the room. 4:42 A.M. I had to
be at work at 5:30, but Duo wasn't due in until 7:00, which meant that
I had to start getting ready in a few minutes while he continued slobbering
happily on his pillow.
With an internal sigh, I threw back the covers of my cold bed and lowered
my feet to the floor, pausing only to stretch out my cramped limbs before
standing up and walking over to the dresser. Or, at least I had originally
INTENDED to walk over to the dresser, but my feet suddenly decided that
they would rather head in the direction of Duo's rumpled bed.
He was sprawled artlessly amongst the sheets, naked from the waist up.
His long eyelashes fluttered slightly as he slept, a natural motion that
seemed delicate in comparison to the earthquake caliber snores that were
issuing from his mouth. Duo only snores sometimes, but when he does, I'm
certain that his snores would definitely measure quite high up on the
Richter Scale. His snoring doesn't bother me, though, and neither does
it take away from the general aura he exudes while clutched in the arms
of Morpheus. Duo sleeps like any other normal young man, and that is what
makes him so alluring.
//Alluring... his skin looks so warm. My bed is always cold//
My fingers were reaching out to grip the sheets of Duo's bed before I
could reign them in. But once I became aware of what I was doing, I realized
that I didn't want to stop. Cautiously, I lifted a portion of the sheets
from the bed, Duo's warmth and scent clinging to them. Keeping a careful
eye on my roommate for any signs of awakening, I slowly eased myself down
onto the bed with him, lying as close to him as I dared, the sheets settling
back over us unobtrusively.
It was a bad habit that I developed during the war: crawling into bed
with Duo. It all started when we were sharing a room at some institute
or another. I had a bad nightmare. A really bad one. Funny thing is that
now I can't recall what precisely it was about, but I do know that when
I awakened, the room was spinning, my heart was pounding hard and fast,
and my bed was damp with cold sweat, stinking of blood and fear. And so
I had all but tumbled out of the bed - cast out - and lurched over to
where Duo was slumbering quietly. Without hesitation, I had crawled under
the sheets and curled up against him. And so there I had remained, basking
in his warmth and scent until my quaking limbs had become still and my
breathing had slowed down to normal pace.
Horrible habit it may have been - and still is - but it felt so good,
lying there next to him, alone in the dark with only the night as witness
to my unspoken expression of trust. For that's what it was, wasn't it?
I trusted Duo more than I had trusted anyone before in my entire life.
But I didn't think too much about it during the war. I wouldn't permit
myself to dwell on Duo for any more time than was necessary. But now...
now there is so much time, so much possibility...
It frightens me sometimes.
Frightens me like the time I had started crawling into bed with Duo just
because I wanted to. Nightmare or not, I would be lying at his
unknowing side in the dead of the night, listening to the sound of his
breathing fill the room. Relishing how delightfully warm his body was.
Letting his musky scent wash over me like a drug.
I slept next to Trowa once, in our many travels together, and it wasn't
the same. His body wasn't as warm. He didn't smell like Duo. He didn't
snore like him. He didn't kick me in the groin in the middle of the night.
Maybe it was because the relationship between Trowa and I was perfectly
platonic. I didn't... want him. It was nice sleeping next to him
just for the sake of not being alone, but he wasn't Duo.
Now, this was Duo. I practically went deaf from his snores as I
curled - cuddled? snuggled? - against his warm body, cautiously resting
one of my arms on his smooth back, which was rising and falling with his
slow, steady breaths. His scent surrounded to me, and I allowed it to
sink into my skin and hair for the time being, knowing that it would be
washed away when I showered in few minutes.
I frowned slightly. I didn't want to leave him, but I also couldn't stay
long in case I fell asleep, and he woke up to find me asleep and dreaming
in his armpit. Yet, just lying next to him was making me feel warm and
drowsy and comfortable. I imagined I had that goofy look on my face -
the same one Duo gets when he relaxes in a bathtub filled with steaming
Not that I peek on Duo when he takes a bath, of course. Don't be ridiculous.
Shifting closer to the man who had become far more to me than just a best
friend, I lightly nuzzled his bangs, inhaling the scent of his shampoo.
It was some cheap, obscure aroma not meant to smell like anything, but
Duo's personal scent amplified and glorified it. I love the way Duo smells.
I love so many things about him, though I would probably never work up
the nerve to tell him half of them.
As if breathing in the scent of his hair wasn't enough, I had to have
more. I swear, I sometimes lose all control around Duo. It's a wonderful
feeling, but it's also frightening - a price I'm more than willing to
Burying my face in the fragrant hollow between Duo's neck and shoulder,
I breathed in deeply. He smelled salty, musky - masculine. The same scent
that I found on his pillow, in the towels he had used earlier that night.
The same scent I find on my shirts after he borrows them. He always promises
that he's going to wash my shirts after he wears them so he won't leave
his "odoriferous stench" on them, but he never does. I don't
I raised myself up onto one elbow and stared down at Duo as he slept on,
oblivious to my presence in his bed. There was now an impressive puddle
of drool on the pillow. I felt small smile come to my lips. Duo's so...
Duo, even when he's dead to the world.
"I had a nightmare earlier tonight," I suddenly heard myself
whispering to his unconscious form.
Duo snorted softly.
"I don't remember what it was about, but I felt sick afterwards."
Duo scratched his nose.
"I'm supposed to go to work in a little while, but I'm going to lie
here in bed with you for now. Is that alright?"
Duo kept on snoring.
"Thanks, Duo. You're my best friend, you know."
I leaned down and kissed his cheek gently, relishing the feel of the warm,
soft skin underneath my lips.
//I love you, Duo.//
He smiled quietly in his sleep, but I didn't think anything of it. I know
Duo's breathing patterns, and I was absolutely certain that he wasn't
awake. But as I settled down next to him and closed my eyes against the
morning light filling our room, I couldn't help but wonder if somehow,
he had heard me.
I just don't want to lose you tonight
I just want to
you to be with me
- "Just Communication [English Version]"
(Author's Notes: I know it might have been out of character for Heero
to say and do some of the things in here, but, hey, this takes place after
the war is over. You've got to expect some changes in his character
after he's been freed from the threat of war.)
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