Author: Jupiter Strahan
Warnings: songfic, slight shonen ai, sweet.
Disclaimer: Just imagine that I wrote one.
Heero woke with a start. He
swept the room with his eyes, but nothing seemed out of place. It was
still three hours until dawn. For a moment, he couldn't figure out what
had woken him, until he saw Duo.
The self-proclaimed God of Death was curled up beside him, still in his
black pants and preist's garb, on top of the blankets. This didn't surprise
Heero in the least; Duo often came back to their shared room exhausted
from a mission, and didn't usually feel the need to take off his clothing
or even his boots, with the excuse that he'd just have to put it back
on in the morning, so it was a waste of time. There were strands of hair
poking out of Duo's braid, not to mention his long bangs were in disarray,
covering most of his face, and it was slightly damp. It must have been
raining when Duo had made it back.
Heero sat up slightly, feeling the gentle breeze against his bare chest,
and brushed Duo's bangs away from his face, or at least attempted to.
It was then that he noticed Duo's hand was in his, their fingers intertwined.
Instead of pulling away, Heero examined their hands, the slight surprise
not crossing his features. Duo's fingers were thinner than his own, and
slightly paler. There were no scars, just smooth flawless skin. His own
hands had tiny, almost invisible marks where abrasions had once been,
and he wondered momentarily how a boy raised on the streets could have
such beautiful hands.
Heero blinked. Beautiful? Where had that come from? He had been brought
up to observe objectively, not to interject his opinion into them... but
it was true. Duo's hands were beautiful. Deep blue eyes trailed up Duo's
arm to the white cuffs, then to his face. Most was still covered by chestnut
hair, but glimpses of his cheeks were visible, as well as his mouth. His
lips. Most of the time, Heero never saw them still. Now, though, Heero
was free to admire his comrade in the calm of the night, and Duo wouldn't
be bouncing around the whole time. Duo's hands weren't the only beautiful
thing about him.
Once again, Heero caught himself. Why was he still looking at Duo? Why
was he even still awake? Simple, a voice in his mind told him, You
want to. You want to know this boy. He didn't know why, but
he knew it was true. Duo was the closest thing to a friend that he had,
and after all the years he spent as a specimen, Heero felt he deserved
one. Besides, he told himself, there was never a rule that he wasn't allowed
to apprieciate something so pleasing to the eye, as long as it didn't
get in the way of the mission.
A hint of a smile graced Heero's features as he leaned back into the pillow.
The war may not be over, but at the moment there was nothing he could
do about it. Right now, he simply listened to the quiet of the night,
and Duo's breathing, content with the world. He gently squeezed Duo's
hand, and searched his face again. Violet eyes slowly flickered open,
then stared into his own for a short eternity. Duo's hands didn't compare
with his eyes. Nothing could. Beautiful didn't even begin to describe
them. Those lips curved into a small, sleepy grin, before whispering "Hey,"
and softly squeezing Heero's hand in response.
Then his eyelids dropped. Heero closed his own eyes, his faint smile still
in place. "Hey." He replied.
Together, they drifted off to sleep.
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