By Keelywolfe
Series: Being Duo Maxwell
Summary: Set during Episode 9, after a certain two guys finish a basketball game.
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing, it's characters, settings, Gundams, etc, do not belong to me, we all know that.

When You're Strange

There is nothing in all the world that feels better than a shower when you're hot and sweaty. Maybe this is something that you've known all along, but I only discovered it about a year ago, when showers become normal aspect of life rather than a luxury, and after a hard game of basketball, I was looking forward to basking in all that steamy glory.

As an added bonus, the shower room was empty by now; most of the guys had gone in while Heero and I were having our little powwow about the ship in the harbor, and which one of us was going to get at it first.

Heero Yuy.

His name was Heero.

Believe me, the irony of that does not escape me, and not just because he's named after that leader guy, either. Although I'm starting to wonder if he really does know -my- name, or if he just doesn't like it because he has graciously gifted me with a new one.

Shut up Maxwell.

Yup, that's what he always calls me, at least a couple times a day. Aw, he gave me a pet name, ain't he sweet?

Anyhow, with the showers empty, except for me and Yuy, I could goggle at his naked butt all I wanted without anyone else getting nervous. For some reason, naked guys get a little edgy when other naked guys eyeball their more private parts. Cowards. Eh, they don't know what they're missing, I say. Heero has a hell of a nice ass.

Just the mental image of that had me humming as we stripped off and I was into a full-fledged song by the time the water was running. Just recently I had taken to singing all the time, mostly because it pissed off Heero-boy, and there are few things in my life that I have enjoyed as much as that. He gives me this look that I have affectionately titled the Glare O' Death. It hadn't worked for him yet, but he hasn't given up trying. Maybe he hopes it'll build up in my system and I'll keel over yet.

Years ago, a kind hearted nun had told me that perhaps it would be best if I just lip-synched the hymns on Sunday. God had a good ear and surely He'd hear me, she'd said. I'd still gone on my merry way, belting out the words, and looking back, I feel sorry for every damn person in that church. Not enough to stop singing though. I'm stone- tone deaf, but I still love a good song.

Heero just has no taste for the classics.

"People are strange, 'cause when you're a...ouch! Son of a..." I turned around with a death glare of my own, but Mr. Yuy had already turned back to his own shower, probably already making a mental note to himself that if he ever wanted Mr. Maxwell to shut the hell up, all he had to do was slap him on the ass with the end of a wet towel.

Humph. Hope he enjoyed it because that's damn well as close as he's getting to my ass for a while.

Oh, did I forget to mention we're sleeping together?

Well, not sleeping, but we're banging like monkeys whenever we get the chance. I think I've created a monster. Or at least woken up his inner horny teenager. Yeah, he's playing the game just the way I want him to, for now. We'll see how well he keeps up.

I turned back the shower, trying to keep my hair from getting wet because then I'd have to undo it and comb it out, which is a pain in the ass in good times, much less in a locker room full of other guys.

Now, you do not get to be a guy with hair as long as mine without taking a little heat for it. I'm pretty used to all the cracks and girly jokes by now, and I generally kick ass well enough in both gym and class that I get left alone.

But for the first few weeks I'm stuck with hearing all the old jokes in a new voice, and trust me, even if you think you've just thought up a real zinger, don't bother. I've heard them all.

So, this being the way things are with me, I wasn't surprised when cruising through on the way to my locker, a low wolf whistle started behind me, and I would have ignored it if it hadn't been cut off with this weird choking noise. Glancing behind me, I saw this guy sprawled out on the floor holding his stomach. Huh. Weird.

Another row down, a guy called out to me, "Hey, aren't you in the wrong locker...oof!"

A little warily, I turned around again to find another guy sprawled on the floor. Déjà vu.

Huh.

Heero was right behind me and I glanced back at him, but soldier boy just gave me the blandest look in his repertoire and brushed past me to his own locker. Twenty other gazes followed him warily, and I noticed a distinct lack of comments about my hair all of a sudden.

I've said it before, I'm not the brightest guy in the world but I didn't ride the short bus to school either, when I could attend school anyway. I can put two and two together and get Heero's fist equals two stomachs.

Way to keep it discreet, pal. And he was bitching at me.

Which is why it is so beyond pathetic how much it thrilled me. Sick, Maxwell, really sick. Next you'll be asking your boyfriend to carry your books to class. I shook it off and hurried up to my locker. I don't know who keeps the locker rooms at arctic temperatures, but right now my boys were trying to crawl back home and all I wanted in life was a nice pair of pants.

A shame all my wishes aren't granted so quickly.

+

I had time to reconsider what I wanted as my wish for the day later that evening, standing in front of Heero's door while I watched him type away on his laptop. I tell you, this guy has a real obsession with computers. I bet he gets a stiffy the second he sits down in his Gundam.

Only a few hours from now and we were going to be fighting our way through a group of mobile suits, risking our lives and fighting the good fight, and he wanted to...type? He'd informed me when I got here that I was early and kept right on typing. Who knew that when I'd decided that 11:30 was a good time for getting nookie that he'd chisel it in a stone tablet? The 11th commandment, thou shalt not have sex before 11:30. You know, they never mentioned that one anytime I was in church.

Takes all kinds, I guess. It's a damn shame I just happen to be screwing one of the mechanically inclined. Or not screwing at this moment, which was the problem.

Which brought to mind another question that had been bothering me.

"Hey, what was with that girl we saw earlier? Is she following you around or what?" I asked, crossing my arms and leaning against the door.

Silence.  Gee, big shocker, that. No sex before 11:30 and no conversation before sex. So Sayeth the Mighty Yuy. S'ok, though, that wasn't really the question I wanted to ask anyway.

"So, are you banging her?" Now, it wasn't that I really cared if he was getting dirty with the little princess in her Pepto-Bismol mobile, but I'd rather know if there is a chance I'm going to be picking up any cooties from him. It's good to keep track of this shit, you know.  

He gave me a blank look and I groaned. Did they grow this guy in a test tube on Mars or what?

"You're sleeping with her?" I clarified, adding in a rather crude gesture that included poking my index finger into my loosely cupped hand...and found myself slammed backwards against the door, Heero's hands fisted in the loose material of my shirt as he actually lifted me off my feet.

"Don't talk about her like that," he said softly. "Ever."

I nodded hastily, for once words frozen on my tongue. He let me go and I dropped back to my feet, nearly falling over as I jarred into the floor, hard.

Heero turned back to his computer and I just stood there like the idiot I was, my shoulder stinging where it had scraped against the door hinge and feeling...hurt. Which was stupid, fucking stupid, because I'd asked for that with a hundred percent of my usual tact. Hell, how was I supposed to know she was...that she...

That she was someone special.

I turned on heel and left without another word. I'd learned years ago that it was a bad idea to stay where you weren't wanted. It was a good way to get your ass dead, and never let it be said that Duo Maxwell doesn't have a healthy survival instinct.

+

He showed up at my room a little while later, right on schedule. Well, surprise, surprise. I could have about timed the bastard by the minute. Wonder if he wrote it that way in his little fucking day planner. 11:00 PM: kill OZ soldiers. 11:30 PM: fuck pilot #2 through the mattress.

If he did, then soldier boy was going to have to get his ass a bottle of whiteout, because I was about to make a few permanent changes to his agenda. Nobody fucking well treats me that way, no matter how good they are at mattress surfing.

Nobody.

I have to give him a little credit; he didn't just waltz into the room and start stripping off. Nope. Instead, he stood there in the doorway, hands in his pockets and looking almost awkward, as if -he- was ever awkward about anything. Unless it has to do with sex and if he asks me for a blowjob, so help me God...

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

I didn't say anything, just stayed where I was, sitting on my bed and reading. Not much to say in my opinion, because I figured if I did actually say something I might just start to scream at him and that would be the worst sin I'd ever committed. I was a fucking moron, I already knew that, for reading between the lines, for making assumptions about him that I had no right to make, but even I know when to stop pushing and let things lie. Unfortunately, the spandex kid here was apparently still reading from a different rulebook.

"Duo..." he sighed, sounding highly put upon. Oh, is the poor baby suffering? Am I just being a right pain in your prissy little ass? Should have thought of that before you got on your knees for me, pal, and suddenly I found my tongue again right quickly. Fuck it. If he was planning on killing me for what I say or do, then I was damn well going to earn it.

"I'm trying to study, if you don't mind," I said coldly, wincing before I'd even finished saying it because -that- was an out and out lie. I'd been on the same page for about an hour now and like I really needed to study anyway? We weren't going to be here that much longer.

He frowned at that. Wow, he said my name -and- I earned a facial expression from him. I feel so important right now, really I do. Maybe if I am a good boy he'll pat me on the head and give me a fucking dog biscuit.

I could almost feel him losing his patience when he finally stepped into the room and I braced myself for Hurricane Yuy, clenching my fists so hard my nails were biting into my palms. He'd gotten his way with me more than once now with a little judicious use of force, let's see how he likes it when I'm not so cooperative. I swear, I'll feed him his own balls before I...

I was so ready for the beginnings of another war (Like the one we were already fighting wasn't enough? Gluttons for punishment, the both of us), that it took me a moment to see that he'd stopped, frozen nearly, and he was staring at me with the weirdest look on his face.

Pissed off or not, I was starting to think I'd broken him without even doing anything, until I realized that from the angle he was in he could see my shoulder in all its Technicolor glory. An ugly scratch from the door hinge that I'd already dabbed antiseptic on, and it probably looked a lot worse than it was. I've got that pale skin that bruises so easily, but there was no way for Heero to know that, and he actually looked vaguely horrified.

Good.

"Duo..." he said again, waking up from his little impromptu trance, and he reached for me that time. It was pure reflex to flinch back, a lifetime supply of street instinct forcing me to do an awkward little crab crawl backwards to avoid his touch. If life had taught me one thing, it was that if they'd hit you once, they'd do it again. And again, and again, until you're dead or at least you don't fucking care whether you are or not. I don't want to play the game badly enough to die for it.

Now the horror in his expression was very clear, mirrored in those deep blue eyes of his that had enchanted me so much the first time I'd seen them. Well, fuck that. I'd been here before and I had no intention of playing the game this way twice.

I was a little afraid of him and I can admit it without shame. He's stronger than me and there isn't a damn thing I can do about that. And if he was planning on using that strength against me then he can damn well find another fuck toy.

Except...he looked so lost, like a little kid, and he hadn't actually hurt me himself come to think of it. Sure he'd pushed me into the wall but not hard enough to actually hurt, it was the hinge that had hurt me and surely he hadn't meant to...

I was making excuses, stupid fuck that I am, but hadn't I deserved it, just a little bit? Hell, I know that some things are sacred, could I hold it against him just because...

Just because I wasn't?

That was my real problem, and I damn well knew it. That she was more important to him than I was somehow, and who is the real jackass here, Maxwell?

He hadn't hurt me. He'd -insulted- me. How dare he have a thing for some other person while he was getting cozy between my sheets? How dare he make me the second-class citizen in his little ménage a trois without even telling me? Hell, I was the other 'woman' and I didn't even know it!

As if I had the right to care about that, though. He hadn't exactly gotten on bended knee for me, and I would have laughed my ass off if he had. No promise exchanged either way, and what the hell was it with this guy that I made myself into a grade-A asshole every other day?

He was still standing there, still looking lost and probably feeling way over his head here, and any second now he was going to turn away and...and what? Leave me here? Go to his little princess?

Oh, I don't think so.

Now the only problem was digging myself out of this quicksand that I'd so cheerfully tossed my ass into.

"Heero," I started, trying to think of how the hell I could fix this, and he blinked, some of the emptiness leaving his eyes. "I...you scared me this afternoon," I said quietly.

Again with that vaguely horrified look, Jesus, he was breaking my fucking heart here! "I'm sorry..."

I shook my head hastily, geez, this was the last thing I wanted from him. "No, wait, let me finish. I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have said what I said about...her. But if I say things you don't like, could you just...maybe say something next time?" I shrugged, feeling a little awkward myself and I decided I might as well go for broke while I was here. "I've just had some...bad stuff...in my past, you know?"

His eyes closed up faster than if they'd had shutters, and I knew I'd pushed it just a step too far. Rule number one, you don't talk about the past. He wasn't my confidant or my priest, and I sure as hell didn't want to be his. I'm nutty enough on my own without adding his nightmares into my fruit cocktail.

So...the score now is my bad, his bad, my bad...maybe we should stop this before someone gets dead.

"You're fifteen," he said suddenly, calmly, a fact, and I blinked, mystified.

"Yeah, so? You are too."

He nodded slightly, and I was still a little lost kid in Disneyland for this conversation. Why can't I ever sleep with normal guys?

Heero moved again, slowly this time, to sit next to me on the bed. He lifted a hand to my cheek, again, slowly, giving me every chance to say no before he stroked my cheek with the tip of one callused finger, and who would have known such strong hands could be so very gentle?

I felt like an asshole.

Before I could say anything, Heero leaned forward and kissed me, with all the tenderness that I sure as hell didn't deserve right now before he murmured against my lips, "I didn't mean to hurt you."

Now, let me just say that whatever problems Heero had had with clothes removal in the past are long since over. He is now an expert in the field of undoing buttons, snaps, zippers, ties and various other fasteners. Even as careful and gentle as he was being, he still had me stripped in about .003 seconds, give or take, and God help me, I don't think anyone has been that gentle with me in my whole life. A methodical pilot he may be, but when it comes to sex he gives way to the more abstract and Da Vinci gives way to Dali as his tongue paints its way over my stomach and lower.

Fuck, I'm so horny I'm all but writing poetry. I almost wish he had shot me. Almost, and if giving a blowjob were an Olympic sport, Heero would have three gold medals and a commercial endorsement contract by now. I've said it before and I'll say it again, this guy is perfect in everything he does.

All I could do was try not to pull his hair out, as somehow my hands had gained a side job of holding his head still while I fucked that hot, soft, oh, god, so hot mouth of his. Trying my damnedest to keep quiet because generally speaking, the giving and/or receiving of blowjobs, by and for the student body, was frowned upon by the faculty of this school.

Speaking of giving and receiving...

Haven't heard of 69 yet, have you, spandex boy? I tell you, this guy has so many cherries to be plucked he's practically his own orchard. Shifting carefully so I didn't accidentally get my most sensitive parts bitten off, I managed to maneuver the both of us so we were face to crotch. I didn't bother stripping off his pants, just unfastened them enough to slip a hand inside and rescue his poor, trapped erection.

He made a soft, startled noise and I groaned as it vibrated around my cock. Pulling myself together as much as I could, I wrapped my lips around the tip of his erection and sucked. He tasted salty, slick against my tongue, and all the better for the fact that I suddenly knew that I was the only one who'd ever done this to him. I'd taught him how to suck, to fuck, to touch and taste, and God, this guy has a mouth on him that is softer, hotter than my best wet dream.

A few minutes later, it turned out to be a damn good thing the both of us had our mouths full because the scream I muffled would have woken up half the staff, and confirmed the suspicions of our classmates about the two new guys. He swallowed obligingly, and I moaned again, helplessly, before redoubling my own efforts on him.

Who says those that teach can't do?

Afterward, sweat-dampened skin clinging and our heartbeats slowly dropping from out of the stratosphere, he played with my hair, unraveling it from the braid and spreading it all over without my permission. Again. Now, if Relena Pizzacrust was sacred to him, then my hair was sacred to me, but -some- of us don't mind sharing our toys.

Plus, it's pretty hard to complain when you are nearly purring. His hands were almost as good as his mouth, sliding over my scalp and combing through my hair. I was nearly asleep when he finally stopped and curled up next to me. We still had a few more hours before we went after that ship, and I took my turn at the post-coital snugglies, massaging his back and shoulders with my free hand.

One of his hands accidentally brushed over my shoulder, and I hissed softly, trying not to let him know. The crisis had been averted and I sure as hell didn't want to start up the war when we were in the middle of a cease-fire. No, I was wrong. This was two problems solved because it was -my- bed he'd come to in the middle of the night. Mine. Damn good thing, too, because as long as he is bumping uglies with me, there will be no banging of the princess. One fuckbuddy at a time, pal. Thems the rules of the game.

And I'm not done playing, yet.

-finis-

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