see part 1 for warnings, notes, disclaimer
Up in Blue + Part 7
what people offer. Drink their milkshakes. Take their love.
Trowa's apartment was just a few blocks from Tangle, and he and Quatre
walked there in silence, snow dusting them from the tops of their heads
to the gloves sheathing their interlaced fingers.
A block from his apartment, Trowa disentangled their hands and wrapped
one arm around Quatre's shoulder, pulling him close. "You're worried about
Duo, aren't you?" he said. His voice was tender, not aggravated like Quatre
Quatre moved away a little so that he could look up at Trowa's face. "I...
It's just that, normally tonight I would have waited until he drank and
danced himself out of his mind and then brought him home. But he just
left with that guy without even looking back. He was acting like it was
any other night. But..."
Trowa wisely refrained from commenting. He may have spent the last few
years observing lions, but he had learned a fair bit about human nature
in the meantime. Such as, humans were the only animals that lied to themselves.
And while lions only fought with tooth and claw, humans were always coming
up with new ways to hurt one another.
Quatre shrugged underneath Trowa's arm. "...But he seemed ok. In fact,
I'm sure he's fine."
Whatever he did or did not think of that last statement, Trowa kept it
to himself. He just maintained the small smile on his face as Quatre talked
himself out of worrying about his best friend.
"Besides..." Quatre had stopped and blocked Trowa's way on the sidewalk
in front of the door to his building, a cheeky smile curving his lips.
"I never had anybody else to go home with on Death Day before." Quatre
slid his gloved hands into Trowa's back pockets. He arched up and touched
his lips to his boyfriend's, the condensation from their breath mingling
together as their mouths met.
Noses pressed together, Trowa breathed, "Come inside."
Like there was any question about that!
They raced one another up the stairs, Quatre not above throwing an elbow
or two to impede the longer legged man's progress. Trowa caught up with
him at his door and, instead of inserting the key in the lock, pinned
Quatre too the wood, hands on both sides of the blonde head.
Quatre leaned back against the door breathlessly, a huge grin on his face.
Trowa flexed his arms in a sort of vertical pushup, bringing the two men
chest to chest. "You cheated."
Quatre tilted his head. "'Cheated' is such an ugly word. I prefer to say
that I gave you a handicap."
Another miniscule flex of Trowa's arms and something deliciously, achingly
stiff was rubbing against Quatre's hip. "I'd say you gave me two handicaps."
All it took was the slight pressure, the smell of Trowa's soap, the sun-browned
hand he could see out of the corner of his eye and Quatre's whole body
was swollen and aching with desire. Barely brushing the underside of Trowa's
jaw, Quatre's lips felt as if they had received an electric shock. Trowa's
mouth found his and he was burning, burning.
Trowa used one hand to fumble through inserting the key in the door and
the only reason Quatre didn't go flying when it swung free of its frame
was because Trowa's other arm had encircled his waist, pulling their bodies
A pivoting dance had them around the open door then onto the couch, where
Quatre landed atop Trowa, one knee between the cushions and the couch
back, the other between Trowa's legs. They helped one another out of wet
gloves and coats, eventually tossing the sodden mess to the floor.
Trowa shivered as Quatre gathered his faculties enough to be able to slowly
pull Trowa's zipper. The other man shivered, then jumped. "Cold hands!"
"I'll warm it up," Quatre whispered, his lips curving into a smile. Trowa
looked down to see blue eyes staring up at him. Quatre had scooted back
on the couch, his face now nuzzling Trowa's belly, his hipbones, his thighs
still encased in his blue jeans.
"When?" The word was meant to tease but came out more like a gasp.
His answer was an impossibly warm mouth engulfing him.
After a night of anticipation, the experience threatened to be over all
too soon. Quatre slowed down, prompting more of the cries and small noises
his normally taciturn lover only seemed to make during the height of passion.
He faltered a bit though, when one of those cries, the one that brought
Trowa over the edge, reached his ears.
"I... ahhhh... god, I love you!"
Quatre froze for a minute and
found himself having to catch up, to swallow quickly before allowing a
[part 8] [back to Singles
l - z]
He blinked a few times and then sat back, swiping a finger over his lower
lip. "Bathroom!" he said breathlessly. "Be right back."
He planted a reassuring kiss on Trowa's forehead before practically tripping
over his own feet to flee down the hall.
The walls and floor of Trowa's bathroom were all royal blue tile and Trowa
had added a fluffy pale blue rug and toilet seat cover to round the room
out. The decorations were unexpected additions to an outdoorsman's apartment,
unless one knew the man personally. From the stories his boyfriend had
shared of his childhood spent in foster care, Quatre had realized that
Trowa had had to learn how to make a house a home quickly. Despite the
cold day, Quatre found himself uncomfortably warm so he ended up sinking
down, back to the wall, between the tub and the toilet, his knees drawn
up to his chest and his feet on the fluffy rug. The tiles, with their
painted blue perfection and pristine grout were reassuringly cool behind
and beneath him.
He heard a muffled click as he sat and realized that he still had his
cell phone in his back pocket. He took it out and weighed it in his hand.
Trowa had said he loved him. Had he meant it? Or had they just been idle
words, uttered in the heat of the moment? Having so few experiences with
real love, Quatre took every incidence seriously. Still a bit breathless,
he turned his head so that his cheek pressed against the tile.
Before he could think better of it, he had hit number two on his speed
dial. Trowa was number one, of course. Trowa had given him the phone.
He, Quatre, was number one on Duo's speed dial, though. Why was he thinking
One ring. Two. Three. Duo picked up.
If Duo's own decorating scheme was meant to be fashionably sparse, Heero's
was downright Spartan. As the dark haired man walked him to the bedroom
he didn't offer an explanation for the distinct lack of furniture and
personal touches. Duo figured the mystery out for himself when he saw
the neatly stacked boxes in one corner of each room. So he really was
brand new in town.
They had made out like wild animals in the taxi on the short ride to Heero's
townhouse. When Heero showed signs of surfacing for air, or worse, trying
to speak, Duo had pulled him back down again. If he could kiss he didn't
have to think. Duo didn't have to think about what he was about to do.
How he had always secretly wanted to try it again. Why he had picked this
time, this place, this night. Or why this night had picked him. Duo opened
his eyes once and found that he could look through Heero's face as if
he were transparent. He could see right through him to the streamers of
city lights outside the cab window opposite him. Like Heero wasn't even
there. Like he was in this cab by himself. Or in the dark barn, face pressed
to the dirt, smelling gasoline and snakes and rotten hay.
Heero had led him by the hand into an upstairs bedroom. He had tried to
speak again and Duo had again silenced him with his mouth. Shrugging,
Heero was lifting Duo's shirt up over his head when the cell phone rang.
They both automatically pawed at their pockets before realizing that it
was Duo's. He looked at the caller ID.
"Leave it," Heero growled, reaching for one of Duo's now bare arms. His
own fly was already unzipped, giving Duo a tantalizing glimpse of a dark
trail and tented black boxers.
"Can't. Bathroom?" The one and two word sentences were all they both could
manage aside from strangled panting.
"Fuck." It wasn't mad, more disappointed. Heero took a step back and ran
a hand through his hair. "Over there."
Duo heard Heero's weight hit the bed heavily as he shut the bathroom door.
"Hey," he heard himself say softly into the phone. Heero had a huge bathtub
with squared sides and even a step leading up to it. He found that he
could easily situate himself on the corner of the tub, his legs crossed
at the ankles and stretched along its outer edge.
"Are you alright?" Quatre's slightly tinny voice asked.
Duo forced his voice back to its normal volume and timbre. "I think it's
the phone. What's up?"
"Trowa told me he loved me." Quatre's voice was normal, bland.
Duo had already plastered the fake smile on his face before he realized
that there was no one there to see him.
"That's good," he said neutrally. Normal Duo would have said something
teasing. The Duo who had decided to let Heero Yuy fuck him couldn't think
of a single witty comment.
"I didn't say anything back," Quatre continued.
The words hung in the air. Duo wanted to say "Good. You don't need him."
But the words turned to ashes in his mouth, stilled by a vision of himself
grabbing Quatre by the nape of his neck, forcing him facedown onto the
mattress, pinning him to the bed with his weight, ignoring his pleas to
stop. Stilled by the cold knowledge that sometimes he wanted that.
Sometimes he wanted it more than anything.
Duo realized he was hard again. He didn't try to determine whether the
cause was Quatre's voice, how the bottle of shampoo he held loosely in
his hand smelled like Heero or the vision behind his closed eyes. He didn't
want to know. So instead he kept quite and so did Quatre until Duo thought
there really had been some fault with the connection. Then there was a
rush of words.
"I have to ask you something, Duo, and it's very important, so shut up
A slight exhalation of breath on the other end of the line. "Do you remember
the first time you told me you loved me?"
Of course I remember.
"Let me think..."
In your backyard, in the snow.
"Duo, you really don't remember?"
He unconsciously twisted the loose tip of his braid around one finger.
"Hmmm... The first time. How old were we?"
"We were fourteen."
Duo feigned a speculative pause. "Sorry, Cat, that was such a long time
Only you would drink a strawberry milkshake in the middle of February.
That was back when you still craved strawberry shakes all the time, before
you got sick that time at Dairy Baron and swore off them forever. We got
to your house and everybody on both sides of the duplex was gone and you
had forgotten your key again. We thought we were so cool for being able
to go without hats and gloves in the dead of winter but I could tell you
were regretting that milkshake because you were rubbing your hands together
while pretending to look around, trying to be all discreet. We went around
to the back door to see if we could break in like cat burglars. I offered
to bust a window but of course you never would have let me, and I wasn't
serious anyway. Some of your sisters' toys and shit were frozen to the
ground out there and I kicked this little plastic tricycle thing because
I was frustrated and it was fucking freezing. It was about that time
that the snow began to fall. You were apologizing, like you always do.
Like you could change the weather or something. You looked at me and at
that moment I knew you would change the weather for me if you could.
I knew it then and I know it now that you are the only person on this
earth who has ever loved me.
You had snowflakes in your eyelashes.
I was wearing the denim jacket that had been my dad's before he died
and was way too big for me. You were wearing that fluffy red coat that
you said made you look like a fourth grader. You were right, too. I went
over and I took both your hands in mine and put them in my coat pockets.
Then I slipped my arms around you and put my hands up under that tomato
monstrosity. I wasn't as tall then and all I had to do was dip my chin
an inch and we were nose to nose. You balled your hands up into fists
inside my coat pockets and smiled right at me. I wanted to kiss you, but
somehow I knew that wouldn't be enough. So I said it. And you ducked your
head against my shoulder and told me you loved me, too.
You had snowflakes in your eyelashes...
"No. No, I can't remember." There was a note of finality in his voice.
"When was it?"
Back in Trowa's bathroom, Quatre pressed his cheek into the cool tile
and closed his eyes. Hard. He knew the story about Duo's mother and the
deputy. Duo listening in the barn. After that day, Duo never lied. Never.
"Um... not important. Just something I was thinking about. Actually, I
should go. I'm at Trowa's."
"Duo-" A pause. A catch in Quatre's voice. One final chance to take it
Duo remained silent. If he spoke, he would force Quatre's face further
into that mattress until there were no more sounds, until he went limp
and unmoving. He realized that his hand was balled into a fist.
"Later then." The call cut off abruptly, as if, across town in Trowa's
bathroom, Quatre had snapped the phone shut hastily. Before he could change
"Yeah..." But Duo was only speaking to the digital readout on the screen.
He examined it, as if for clues. The digital readout flashed 00:01:30.
A minute and a half to break a heart.
Trowa was still lying on the couch when Quatre stepped hesitantly out
of the bathroom. The tall man hadn't bothered to zip up and one arm was
thrown over his eyes. He was so quiet that Quatre thought for a moment
that he'd fallen asleep and he stood quietly by the head of the couch,
contemplating what to do until the arm reached out and a hand grasped
his leg. Upside down emerald green eyes were regarding him.
"I meant it," the upside down lips said. "I probably should have said
it a bit more romantically. But there you have it." Trowa folded his legs
under him and became right side up just in time to be tackled into the
back of the couch by Quatre.
After a few minutes on the couch, Quatre surfaced and saw that Trowa's
eyes had gone dark with desire. "I love you, too," the blonde said, rolling
the phrase around on his tongue. "I really do."
"Good," Trowa breathed. "Now show me."
"Can you... can you wrap my braid around your hand and pull my head back?"
"Yeah..." Heero muttered raggedly against Duo's ear. He was rapidly losing
his ability to utter coherent sentences and thought it was better that
he didn't press his luck. So without questioning, he did as Duo asked.
The braid felt substantial and rope-like wrapped around his left hand.
With his right, he grabbed Duo around the waist, grinding the leaner man's
ass against his erection.
Duo let out a low moan. "Harder..." Then, "No, I mean with the braid.
Wrap it around your hand one more time." Heero hesitated, stared hard
for a few seconds at the smooth back in front of him, and then complied.
Now Duo's neck was bent back at an almost painful angle, his face tilted
up as if waiting for a kiss.
"Doesn't it hurt?"
Duo's voice was barely more than a whisper in the still room. "It's supposed
Afterward, both men lay on their backs on Heero's dark blue sheets.
"You haven't been on a bottom in a long time, have you?" This question
came out rather breathlessly as Heero's heart tried to find its steady
rhythm again. It wasn't a delicate question, but something was nagging
at him to ask it.
Duo, who had lit a cigarette, glanced at him out of the corner of his
eye. "No." A pause. "Not in a long time."
Heero noted the flatness in Duo's tone and knew he had offended him. He
turned over on his side and propped himself up on one elbow, unable to
stop his eyes from raking Duo's lanky frame before focusing on violet
"That," he said slowly, "was some of the most mind-blowing sex I've ever
had. You," he ran one finger from Duo's sternum to his belly button, "were
Duo smirked a little and sat up. "Just don't be telling people. You'll
ruin my reputation." He stood and started pulling his pants on.
"I won't," Heero agreed. "If you'll come out with me on Friday night."
Duo turned to look at Heero over one shoulder. The other man was still
sprawled out on the bed in all his glory. "I don't date."
Quick as a cat, Heero grabbed the waistband of Duo's jeans, pulling him
roughly back down to the bed "Yeah, and you're not a bottom either," he
growled. With one motion of his arm, he had Duo turned over and flat on
his back on the bed. "Who said you could put your clothes on? We're not
Duo was glaring at him angrily, but then, like before, his features suddenly
transformed into that dreamy expression. The niggling doubt that had lingered
in the back of Heero's mind disappeared, soundly trounced by the sight
of the compliant body stretched out on his bed. Wordlessly, and never
breaking eye contact, Duo crossed his slender wrists above his head. Heero
soon found that he could encircle them with just one hand.
That next morning Quatre and Trowa bundled up and made the short walk
to the diner that was quickly becoming their Sunday morning breakfast
spot. Quatre thought he must have been having a blueberry pancake induced
hallucination when he came out and met Duo and the guy he had left with
the night before walking in. From what Quatre could tell, his best friend
was still in his club clothes beneath his winter coat. The trick wore
an expensive looking tracksuit.
Duo and one of his tricks were having breakfast together. Quatre raised
two eyebrows. One just wouldn't have cut it for this situation.
There was a tense moment where everyone just stared at one another before
Quatre and Duo began speaking at the same time.
Another pause, time enough for Quatre to notice that Duo was staring at
him oddly. "Introduce me?" Quatre prompted. A light snow had been falling
all morning, but the blonde wasn't sure that was the sole reason he was
so eager to get out of this encounter.
"Oh. Yeah. This is Heero Yuy. Heero, this is my friend Quatre and his
boyfriend Trowa." Duo then became exceedingly interested in the manhole
cover he was standing on.
Trowa nodded at Heero and made some comment about the diner. He was recommending
the strawberry muffins or something. Quatre wasn't listening. He was too
busy trying not to stare at this strange Duo he didn't know, who ate breakfast
with one night stands and kept his hands in his pockets instead of draping
an arm around his best friend's shoulders.
"Nice to meet you," Heero was saying to Trowa. Trowa echoed him, then
slipped his hand in Quatre's and they began walking.
"Seemed like a nice guy," Trowa said noncommittally. Quatre couldn't have
picked him out of a police lineup.
After the couple walked away, Duo stood in the street for a few seconds
more before following Heero into the diner.
Quatre had had snowflakes in his eyelashes.