Author: Chauni
Email: ChauniMaxwell@mechpilot.com
Website: www.oocities.org/asukalangley2nd/
Warnings: Lemon, language, and yes, Solox2 and 1+2.
Disclaimer: I don’t own
Gundam Wing, it’s characters, or the song, “I Miss You” which is by Incubus.
Nope, I made no money off this, so please, no suing.
Notes: First off, I’d
like to dedicate this fic to Roku, who is one of the greatest people I have
ever met ::pounces and huggles:: She inspired this fic, the title, and several
lines towards the end.
is a gift I didn't think could be real.
Through
the thick onslaught of eyelashes, he could’ve sworn he saw a pair of emerald
orbs glittering back at him, inches from his face. Slow comprehension grabbed a
hold of his sleep-muddled brain with a slow squeezing hand as he realized the
only pair of green oculars he knew of were Trowa’s and since he could see both
eyes, that ruled him out.
So,
those eyelashes parted more, giving him a better look at the person so close to
him, the person that was literally laying atop of him. Panic grabbed hold of
him for a moment, slicing through his drowsiness like a sharpened dagger, as he
frantically sat up, peering at the person before him with wide, frightened
amethyst eyes. Where was Heero? Why hadn’t he stopped this person from coming
in? A quick glance at the bed across from his revealed a deeply slumbering boy
with unruly dark hair scattered across the pillow.
“Well,
ain’t this a fine ‘hullo’, don’t ya think?”
Duo’s
gaze flashed back to the man who was still inches from his face, which unnerved
him completely. His back leaned against the wooden headboard of his bed, as if
he could slide through it to free himself of those emerald eyes, emerald eyes
that seemed way too familiar as they were filled with a rough outer wall,
encasing the beating crystal of a heart beneath. Obsidian bangs dangled into
their path and kissed his pale cheeks, while the rest of his hair fell down his
back in a neat shimmering wave of onyx. His body, the skin glimmering in the
pallid moonbeams that snuck in like thieves through an open window, was lean
and rippled with tight, almost hidden, muscles. After a quick glance, the
braided boy realized that his “company” seemed to not like clothes very much
either…as they were discarded into a large, tangled heap on the floor.
“Who…are
you?” Duo hissed, afraid of waking up Heero and starting a shoot out, although
he almost didn’t mind at the present moment. Why do those eyes look so damn
familiar?
The
man, although he couldn’t have looked more than twenty-one, pulled back and sat
down in one fluid movement, dark his eyebrows knitting themselves together as
he regarded the pilot with a pained gaze. “Ya don’t remember me, kid?”
Duo
was about to shake his head, when, like a fired bullet, memories slammed into
his brain, running through them like a movie in fast forward: his rescue from a
handful of bullies, the art the thievery, the laughter, the nights in abandoned
houses, the closeness, the death…
“Holy
shit, Solo…is that you?”
To know that you feel the same as I do
is a three-fold, utopian dream.
His
fingers snaked through his bangs from a slight nervous habit, as he could only
nod, the corners of his thin lips tugged upwards in a half-smirk. With another
feline movement, he climbed to his feet and turned in a slow circle, his arms
out to his sides, still completely naked. “Yeah, who’d a thought I’d turn into
such a good-lookin’ guy, eh?”
Duo
could only nod dumbly for a moment, his eyes wide and lost in the darkness. The
moonlight seemed to make the boy’s bare flesh glow with a spectral radiance
that was purely holy, so very sacred it made him fear to touch it. The boy’s
hair had grown, falling to his waist now in that black waterfall, and he had
grown several inches, but he was still rather short for his age, most likely
from the malnutrition of growing up on the streets. His body was sleek and
graceful, reminding him slightly of Heero’s, and those emerald orbs glittered
with so many passing emotions, it made his head swirl.
“But…but
you’re dead!” the braided boy hissed, getting to his knees on the bed. His
blankets fell away to reveal his own lack of clothes aside from the black silk
boxers that had become his pajamas as of late.
“Call
my visit a birthday present,” Solo purred, smirking lightly. God, that smirk,
that look, reminded him so much of the past, it tore his heart from his chest.
“I…I
don’t have a birthday!” Duo replied.
“Ah,
but ya do,” the other boy countered, returning to his seat on the bed, not at
all ashamed of his own nudity. “Today is the day ya became ‘Duo’, kid, which,
by the way, I really like the tribute in that. Thanks.”
“Then…that
means…today was the day you…”
“Died,
yeah,” Solo finished, waving his hand as if dismissing such a ridiculously menial
fact. “But, hey, don’t think ‘bout stuff like that right now. I ain’t here to
dwell on depressin’ matters, ya know.” And before Duo knew what was happening,
the boy slid across those black sheets and cupped one side of the boy’s face
with a steady, thieving hand, and his lips laid claim to the stunned braided
pilot’s.
Duo,
in a state of shock, pushed the boy away from him, violet eyes wide and crazed.
This wasn’t real; it couldn’t be real! “NO! You aren’t Solo! He’s dead,
damnit!”
For
a moment, the dark-haired boy just sat and stared at him with a pained
expression of a depression that ran deeper that the blood in his veins. “Yeah,
kid, I’m dead, but I’ll tell ya what; don’t look a second chance at happiness
in the mouth. I’ve been watchin’ ya forever, and for once, I want to be the one
ya love. Me, not him, but me.” His forest green oculars danced to Heero’s bed
for a moment, then back to Duo, pleading behind those thick black eyelashes.
“Please…”
Tentatively,
Solo leaned forward to take those pouty lips of the American pilot again, and
this time, he was met with no resistance. Was it the words that won the boy
over or the look of desperation so obvious in those eyes? He didn’t know, nor
did he care, as he gently pushed his lover down, his tongue licking across the
bottom lip to beg for admittance to the fruit underneath, which was so sweetly
granted. Within an instance, he was eating at soul, the god deep within that
ambrosia mouth, moaning lightly in the back of his own throat.
You do something to me
that I can't explain.
So would I be out of line if I said,
I miss you?
His
nimble fingers, so used to the thieving from his days as the “protector” from
L2, slipped under the boxers and removed them quickly as his kisses trailed to
the boy’s collar bone, nipping at it slightly. The boy’s skin tasted so sweet,
like apples and candy and all the things he had never had as a child but always
eyed. Granted, when he was alive, seducing this boy had never been his
intention (such an idea would have left him feeling dirty and tainted with
their ages), but within his death, from his vantage point of the spirit realm,
he had watched this boy grow, mature with his hellish life, and become the god
that none could have ever imagined.
Eager,
his mouth trailed downward, marking flesh with his teeth, moaning still deep in
this throat. Duo arched beneath him, as if offering himself like communion, his
body to those delicate lips, and inwardly, Solo rejoiced. His hands danced
between their bodies as his fingers curled around the current center of Duo
Maxwell’s world.
“I’ve
waited so long for this, Duo,” Solo hissed into the boy’s ear, his tongue
darting out between his lips to run the length of the lobe. “I’ve missed ya so
much, almost as much as I love ya.”
Duo
didn’t respond; he couldn’t even if words had jumped through his cloudy mind.
This…didn’t make any sense! Solo kissing him, touching him, igniting every
sense of anything in his mind, his body. Unconsciously, he bucked, his hips
thrusting into the hand that was curled around him, a moan slipping out between
his own numb lips.
The
black-haired boy wished for nothing more than to have the opportunity to savor
each piece of his lover’s body, but he knew there was not enough time, never
enough time. Outside, the pregnant moon slipped in line with the window,
filling the room with a pale glow and wrapping the writhing bodies with a cool,
inhuman embrace that filled their souls with a dreamy solitude in the other’s
company.
Solo
grabbed the lotion from the nightstand and readied himself, his eyes never
leaving those of the other boy, losing himself in those violet wavering pools
of endless depth. Something caught in his throat as the boy offered himself up
to him, holding his arms out so warmly, crying silently as he was punctured,
and moaning as he was taken. How could it be so cruel that all this could never
be completed? To achieve such completion only to have to hand it back?
Duo’s
mind was a haze of blissful cloudiness that seemed to cast away all logic and warning.
It didn’t matter that his Japanese lover was lying in the bed beside his own,
it didn’t matter that the man who was deeply embedded within his body had died
eight years ago, and it definitely didn’t matter that he was crying, those
tears of happiness trickling down his flushed, high cheeks in a torrent of
diamonds. It was all trivial.
“Solo…”
His words sounded foreign to his own ears, pouring from an alien mouth that
couldn’t have belonged to his own numb one. His hips drove themselves upward as
spectral fingers grabbed his aching need while he was still being filled and
claimed otherwise. How much longer could he last? Everything felt beyond
reality, touched and caressed with dizzying lust, caught within an inescapable
paradise, a Heaven, as he was baptized over and over again by the boy above
him. “Oh, God, S-Solo…nnn…I...I love you!”
And
as those words passed through his parted, moist lips, Duo Maxwell bolted
upright in his empty bed, shivering lightly as the moonlight enveloped him, and
him alone. His body, bathed in chiseled sweat, shivered under the cold attack
of the impassive moon, and he found he was spent and naked…and waking from a
dream.
Slowly,
almost agonizingly slowly, he curled his knees up to his naked chest, and
silently wept.
I see your picture,
I smell your skin on the empty pillow next to mine.
You have only been gone ten days,
but already I'm wasting away.
“I’m
worried about him,” Quatre murmured into his silent tea, sigh slipping through his
soft lips. “Something happened the other night, but he won’t talk to us, won’t
tell us what occurred. Heero, do you have any idea?”
The
Japanese boy shook his head, pushing the fried white egg on his plate around in
quiet contemplation. Oh, no, he couldn’t tell them that he had been woken up as
Duo writhed on his bed in a throes of some erotic dream, covered in the sweat
of the passionate lust, that he cried out a name, someone else’s name,
declaring love, then had woken up sobbing. He couldn’t accept such facts
himself, so there was no way he would divulge them to anyone else as of yet.
“His
room has been silent all morning,” Trowa muttered, flipping a page of the
newspaper. “Perhaps you should check on him, Heero.”
The
Wing pilot only nodded once, and slid his wooden chair away from the kitchen
table with a light scraping noise. Climbing to his feet, he stalked off to the
room he shared with the boy in question, and without knocking, made his way in.
His
cobalt eyes did a quick sweep of the room, thorough, yet unhelpful. His partner
was nowhere to be found, and from the way his bed was made so neatly, so
uncharacteristically like him, and the lack of the boy’s clothes, it was safe
to say that he had snuck out as the pilots had dined on their eggs and coffee
for breakfast.
“Shit.”
How
could such a simple thing as a dream upset and torment him like this? It didn’t
make any sense, really, and made even less as the sunlight had streaked into
his room that morning while he packed his things and slipped out the window. It
was only brainwaves and the like, so why was it killing him now? Why, damnit?!
He
kicked a rock, watching as it did a skittering dance along the sidewalk. But,
it was so real, so damn real. When he had woken up, with his amethyst eyes wide
and crazed, he could still feel those fingers teasing his flesh, was still
relishing in the completion he felt as he was filled. Those dance emerald eyes
were still inches from his own, while that obsidian mass of shimmering locks
were still threaded through his fingers.
So,
you had one hell of a kick ass dream. Why are you all worried about it?
Because
now, now, Solo was all he could think about as the thoughts ate away at his
sanity, warping his sense of direction.
That boy, his savoir from years ago occupied all his thoughts, even as
he snuck onto the shuttle headed to his colony, the birthplace of one Duo
Maxwell.
L2.
I know I'll see you again
whether far or soon.
Oh, God, the alleys were
so hauntingly familiar, and as he touched the wall of one, memories coursed
through him with a frigid dispassionate streak, causing him to shiver as a
mangled whimper leaked from his mouth before he could stop it dead. The place
where he had met Solo, tortured from bullies twice his size, and his knight had
come to protect him, come to show him that someone, somewhere had given a damn
about him!
“Solo…”
The
house…He took off running, twisting and turning through the curves of the
darkened streets, ignoring those that had not the opportunity to remove themselves
from their current station in life like he had. A few more rights, and he was
finally standing at the doorway, for there was no door on this abandoned home.
His legs trembled, even as he took unsteady steps inside, coughing lightly at
the dust and obvious misuse. How come he remembered it so clearly, the house
with the holey ceiling and battered walls, that horrid green and purple
wallpaper peeling down the walls?
Up the
stairs…He dashed up those rickety steps, his foot actually crashing through the
wood on one, as he darted into a room. God, yes, this was where…where…
“This is
where I became Duo,” he whispered.
The
corner, that had been where Solo had finally given up his fight for life and passed
on, leaving behind a small horde of weeping orphans. With numb feet, he walked
over to that spot, dropping down to his knees in submission to those fingers
that gripped his lungs. With a distant and dreamy smile, he held out his arms
to the wall, looking as though he was cradling someone within his embrace,
someone…someone…
“Why did
you leave me?!” he screamed, those searing tears coming once more, trickling
unnoticed down his pale cheeks. “I didn’t wanna be alone, damnit! I didn’t want
to be alone anymore! You were my family! You were all I fuckin’ had and you
left me like everyone else! WHY?!”
“He died
so you could be born, Duo.”
But I need you to know
that I care
and I miss you.
Startled,
violet pools, glassy with tears, snapped up and over to the doorway to the
room, a snarl leaping onto his lips. “Why are you here, Heero? You followed
me!”
The
Japanese boy did nothing but nod for a moment, his cobalt eyes sparkling as he
stood stoically in the entrance to this sacred room. “Hai, I did, Duo, but I’m
not sorry.”
“Get
out!” the braided boy screamed, brushing his high cheeks with the back of an
enraged hand. He climbed to his feet in a typhoon of black and crystal tears,
the words reaching an almost insane level of intensity. “This place is sacred,
goddamnit! Get out! Get the fuck out!”
“I am not
the source of your anger, Duo,” Heero calmly stated, no malice or rage in his
nasally voice as he silently regarded the boy in front of him. “You cannot
change what has happened.”
“I know
that!” he yelled, taking another step closer. “Don’t you think I know that?
That’s not why I’m here!”
“Then why
are you here?” A dark eyebrow arched in curiosity as the body in the doorway
relaxed slightly.
“I…I…needed
to…” The strength drained as he spoke those lost words while he slowly sank to
his knees, head falling forward as those silken bangs covered his face so
completely. “I…just needed to be here. I just needed to show him…how I felt….”
Heero
took a few steps forward, and kneeled before the boy as his head titled to the
side. “I don’t know much about Solo, Duo, only what you have shared with me,
but I think he knew you were special, and that’s why he died. He died so you
can live.”
The
braided American was silent for a long time, and finally, after he lifted his head
up to peer through his bangs at the boy before him, he gave a small half-smile
that just barely tugged at the corner of his soft lips, lips that were moist
with the tears that had fallen down his cheeks to make their resting place on
those tiers. “Today…is my birthday, Heero.”
The
Japanese boy did not ask, as he gathered his koi into his arms and drug him
closer, holding that slightly shaking body within the tight embrace as they sat
in that sacred room. “Happy birthday, Duo.”
A croaked
whisper emerged from the boy’s mouth, although whom he was speaking too was
still up for debate. Perhaps he spoke to that spirit in the room, the one who
was his angel, an angel to him and his god-self, for an angel lives to serve
his god. His words could have been shed to the boy who held him, the one that
soothed his tears and whispered his own quiet affections in not words, but his
actions and movements. Or, maybe, his sentiments were given to the higher
powers that be, God or what have you. Either way, his gratitude slipped out as
he closed his eyes and lightly sighed against that tank-top clad chest.
“Thank
you.”
A light
smirk gathered at the corner of invisible thin lips as the angel nodded to his
god, his arms folded across his leather-clad chest. His eyes glittered through
those obsidian bangs, watching the scene with a clashing war of jealousy and
bliss, but for his god…he would always be the latter.
“No
thanks needed, kid. And I know how ya feel…I love ya, too, Duo, my Shinigami.”