Author: Chauni

Email: ChauniMaxwell@mechpilot.com

Website: www.oocities.org/asukalangley2nd/

Warnings: Angst, Slight violence, Sap, Yaoi

Pairings: 1x2, 5+2

Disclaimer: I don’t own the GW boy or the show, and I made no money off this. “Little Black Backpack” is the property of Stroke 9.

Little Black Backpack

Well I know it's
It's a shame
A shame I can't show it

Heero slammed the door, battling against the scream that threatened to leap out of his tight throat. Kicking off his shoes, he stalked to the couch that sat against one wall of the small apartment, pulling the picture that sat almost religiously upon the nearby coffee table. His face stared back at him, frigid cobalt eyes, emotionless face, as emotionless as his voice. His dark hair had been caught in the wind, half of it flying off to the side creating shadows over his passionless face.

Beside him, stood his friend, his confident. Violet eyes were slitted against the sun that raged unseen in the blue peaceful sky, but a smile, both innocent and impish, raged war across his full lips. His head was cocked to the side, his own hair caught in mid-sway due to some long forgotten breeze.

Heero’s eyes caressed the picture, held lovingly in a crystal frame, one of the few sentimental objects the Wing pilot owned. His eyes memorized the expression of blissful joy that was etched across the other pilot’s face, something that neither time nor war could ever wash away.

With a swift jerk of his hand, the frame cut threw the air, slamming into the bare white wall. It shattered upon contact and laid discarded on the floor, while the pilot stood sneering in the shadows.

And I see it
I can see it now
But I'm so far below it

He walked to the photograph, disregarding the biting pain that dully pounded in his feet as he walked over the shards of crystal. He reached down, his fingers lightly grasping the picture and pulling it up to his face. Blood trickled out across the beige carpet, red as wine.

“Damnit, Duo,” he cursed, whispering. His eyes drifted to a hanging clock, the only object that covered any of the plain white walls. The sun was setting outside, the sky getting ready for its transition into night. The clouds were as red as the bloodstains on the carpet with gold whisping through them like shimmering thread.

He made no sound as he set the photograph upon the table, face down. He looked to the door, then to the back of the picture, his face as cold as a blizzard in the artic. Without another word or care for his damaged feet, he threw his shoes back on and walked out of the empty apartment, while the sky began to turn indigo outside.

Don't wanna
Don't wanna talk about it
I say why not?

Don't wanna think about it

Quatre started slightly at the persistent pounding at his door. Not many people knew where he and Trowa had taken up temporary residence, which resulted in very few visitors. He flashed one tender glance at his beloved, and hopped to his feet from their bed, rushing to the door.

Without looking, he thought, I hope it’s not a salesman. I will be really mad if I got out of bed for that.

He opened the door and looked at the figure, then smiled openly.

“Heero!” he said. “It’s so good to see you! Come in!”

He moved aside, allowing the other pilot to walk in. Closing the door behind him, he followed the boy into the living room, still smiling. “How have you been? Isn’t Duo with you?” he asked, looking around.

He was met with a set of cold cobalt eyes, leveled directly at his own. That was all the answer he needed.

I say there's got to be some good reason
For your little black backpack
Up, smack, turnaround he's on his back

“So, Duo is involved with someone else?” Quatre asked, slightly stunned. It was rare that Heero would divulge even this much information, but what facts he did tell were said in a monotone voice that sounded as if it were a machine speaking rather than a human being.

Heero nodded, his eyes on the swirling glass of water in his hand. Suddenly he looked up, as close to pleading as he could get. “I can’t sleep, Quatre,” he said. “I can’t eat. I can’t do anything. He is destroying me, killing me more than any gun could. I hate him for it.”

Quatre looked back at him, his face serious. “Do you really?” he responded quietly. “Is it really hate you feel, or something else?”

Heero’s eyes lingered on the divine face that stared at him back, knowing what this boy implied was true. He hung his head, dark hair shielding his eyes.

“Go to him,” Quatre encouraged, placing a friendly hand upon his comrade’s shoulder. “Go to him before he destroys you.”

Don't wanna tango with you
I'd rather tangle with him

Duo laughed, something melodious and jovial in the crowded nightclub. His hair fell behind him in a long serpent’s tail braid, his amethyst eyes almost closed from the large smile that crossed his lips.

Across from him sat a boy of the same age with golden unblemished skin and black sloe eyes. His black shimmering hair was drawn back into a tight ponytail, his lips set in a line. A drink sat in front of him, half finished, while he scoured the room, looking for something other than drinking to do.

“Wu-man, lighten up!” Duo said, playfully kicking him under the table. “Drink some more! Remember, it’s all on me tonight! I need to get you good and drunk for later.” He let a mischievous wicked smile finished his evil thoughts.

Wufei sighed, taking another swig of the alcoholic concoction in front of him. “I told you to stop calling me that, Maxwell.”

“I will stop call you that once you start calling me ‘Duo’,” he responded. “I mean, you don’t need to be so formal considering…” That same smile lit across his lips, accenting his meaning.

From the doorway of the club, a man watched the couple at the table, right fist clenching unconsciously at his side. A sneer was plain upon his lips, something menacing, and a growl issued from the depths of his soul.

I think I'm gonna bash his head in
And this shouldn't concern you except that
Just don't expect to get your bloody black backpack back

The cold cobalt eyes narrowed as he looked at the familiar Chinese pilot, dead hands closing around the beating heart encased in his chest. It nearly drove him mad to see them together, laughing, joyful, ignorant. He pushed past some dancing couples, running into a waitress but ignoring her curses as drinks spilled down the front of her uniform. The fist at his side refused to loosen up, just as the sneer failed to leave his lips.

He stopped at the table, peering down at them both. Wufei nodded in respect to the other pilot, taking another drink from the glass, finishing it. Duo looked up in surprise, then something else, some forgotten longing locked away behind his eyes.

“What are you doing here, Heero?” Duo asked, attempting to be heard to the music that raged inside the small club. “This doesn’t seem like your sort of thing. Not that I mind you being here, or anything.” He reached over to another table, grabbed the back of the chair and swung it next to their own, motioning for him to take a seat.

His eyes never left Wufei, as if they were magnets and he was metal. “I came here for him.”

And I can feel you
Yes I can
What about that don't you understand?

Duo’s mouth hung slightly open, brow knit in confusion. His violet eyes stared quizzically up at the Wing pilot, not understanding the look he was giving the Chinese pilot.

Is he jealous of Wufei, for being with me? his mind inquired. Or is it Wufei that he wants to be with? I’ll never understand him! Never, never, never!

For the first time, Heero’s eyes fell onto the Deathscythe pilot, and Duo could swear he saw some far off emotion dancing behind the detached wall that stood. His face never changed, the mask securely in place as always, but that emotion behind it skipped and hopped and begged to be released.

He’s here for me, Duo thought, both elated and angered. Oh, nooo! The bastard couldn’t decide that he wanted me when I was single and drooling over him! No, he had to wait until I got involved with Wufei to fall for me! God, I hate him!

A small grin danced across his lips, hidden in the shadows of the nightclub.

And I sense you
It's something sensual
But it's less than I planned

Heero’s hand fell onto the table beside the pilot of his affection, calloused and hard like the rest of him. Duo heard the click in his own throat as he roughly swallowed. His eyes burned with a fire of something more than passion, something more than jealousy, but it was so difficult to peer behind the wall that stood guard.

“I’ve come for Duo.” His words hung in the air, so much meaning and weight behind them. His eyes fell onto Duo, heavy and weary. “You’re killing me. Stop it.”

Duo chuckled to himself. Leave it to Heero to ask me romantically to come with him.

Don't wanna
Don't wanna talk about it
I say why not?
Don't wanna think about it

Heero’s lips were locked into a tight line. There were many things that battled in his soul, his own personal war zone, but the words refused to pour forth. He couldn’t say the things he felt; he didn’t even understand them himself. What did he know of feelings, of love?

He could see the want of an explanation, any sort of justification, in the violet eyes of the boy, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. He had a feeling that Duo knew what he wanted and why he was here, even if he didn’t say it.

I say there's got to be some good reason
For your little black backpack
Up, smack, turnaround he's on his back

Wufei glared at the standing pilot, his black eyes narrowed to slits. “Maxwell is mine,” he growled.

Heero’s eyes snapped to the voice, a growl resonating, low and primal. “Duo is coming with me, Wufei. If you value your life, don’t try to stop us.”

“I will not accept stupid threats, Yuy,” snarled Wufei, rising slowly to his feet. “Duo is mine now. Understand that and leave us alone.”

“Duo was meant to be with me, and we both know it,” Heero growled. The Deathscythe pilot started slightly at that, his mouth opening slightly, then slamming shut.

“You did not want him and he came to me,” Wufei shot back. “He came to me and he is with me. Leave us be!”

Duo waved a tentative hand, weak smile on his lips. “Um, guys, what about what I want?”

In unison, the warring parties said, “Shut up!” then turned back to one another.

And
Don't wanna tango with you
I'd rather tangle with him
I think I'm gonna bash his head in
And this shouldn't concern you except that
Just don't expect to get your bloody black backpack back

“You lost all claim to him months ago, Yuy!” yelled the Chinese pilot, rage sliding into his voice.

“Hey, there’s enough of the Shinigami to go around!” Duo chimed in happily.

Heero swung to him, grabbing his long chestnut braid and roughly yanking on it. “Shut up, Duo!” he hissed.

“Don’t touch him!” Wufei screamed, bounding across the table at him.

One hard punch flew into Heero’s cheek, knocking him back several steps. He quickly righted himself, snarling and falling into a defensive stance. Wufei came at him again, this time launching himself in an airborne kick. Heero jumped out of the way, ducking and rolling to the side as Wufei landed gracefully onto his feet.

Heero darted, rushing at the other pilot, and caught him in the stomach. Wufei doubled over, for only a moment, until the Wing pilot’s fist crashed into his jaw, sending him flying backwards.

Wufei steadied himself, wiping the crimson trail that was making a path down his chin. His eyes glared at his enemy, then he rushed forward, catching Heero’s arm in a tight grip. With one quick move, the Wing pilot was lying the on the ground, and Wufei stood above him.

The Chinese pilot pulled back one foot, then sent it flying forward, aimed at his chest. Just before it connected with the other boy’s ribs, his hands snaked up and grabbed the swinging appendage, pulling it and the rest of the boy down to the ground. Wufei fell with a loud thud, and then lay motionless.

Heero hopped to his feet, ran over to Duo and grabbed his braid. Pulling him roughly by it like a leash, they both ran out of the nightclub, Duo barely holding onto the black knapsack he had brought with him that night as he was rushed out.

You're trying to find a reason for the way you feel tonight
You're mind is lined with layers of lead
Have you heard one thing that I've said?

“Why did you come for me?” Duo inquired. The night air was cool and bitter, yet strangely silent and comforting. “I mean, I know I’m great and everything, but this isn’t like you, Heero.”

“Shut up, Duo,” he replied. “Can’t you just accept that I came?”

“Nope,” he returned, smiling broadly. His hands went behind his back as he skipped down the street like an overeager child. “That would make things too easy.”

Heero sighed. “I realized some things is all.”

“Like what?” Duo asked, batting his long eyelashes innocently. “Like that you love me? That you need me? That you can’t live without me?”

Heero peered at him from the corner of his eye, cold and calculating. “Hn.”

Duo twirled in the air, hair following him like a shadow. “I knew it!”

“Shut up, baka!” Heero said, but a silhouette of a smile lined his lips.
Silence reigned for a moment, then Duo looked over his shoulder. “I hope that Wufei is all right. Maybe I should go back for him, just to make sure he’s all right.” His eyes turned to Heero, slightly pleading. “Why did you choose now, Heero? I was with someone; I was with Wufei.”

Fury gripped his heart. Doesn’t he understand? The reason I did go after him was because of Wufei! That made me realize everything, made me realize-

The thoughts could not come forward; he wouldn’t allow them to. Instead, he reached over and slapped the braided pilot on the back of the head.

“Baka,” Heero muttered and when Duo turned to protest, his hands grabbed tightly onto the other pilot’s upper arms, dragging his sputtering mouth close to him as his lips devoured his, ceasing all objections.

Don't wanna talk about it
I say why not?
Don't wanna think about it

His hand snaked behind the other boy’s neck, grabbing the long braid that customarily hung there, pulling it over his shoulder. His mouth continued to devour the other boy’s while his hand worked out the tie that was devotedly worn. With hungry fingers, he dove them into the chestnut locks, running his fingers through the silk.

His lips moved from his lips to his neck, long tongue flickering across the tender flesh there. Somewhere, far away, the sound of the knapsack slipping off of the Deathscythe pilot’s back was dimly heard, crashing to ground. Duo’s head moved back, moaning softly to himself.

He had always wanted this. Heero. His beloved Heero. Even with Wufei, he had loved Heero. The guilt that had resonated in his chest was consumed by the lust that was building.

Heero had never been really good with words anyway.

I say there's got to be some good reason
For your little black backpack
Up, smack, turnaround he's on his back

Wufei watched from the overwhelming shadows. He had always known that the braided pilot continued to love Heero, but he was damned if he was going to give up without a fight.

That wouldn’t be honorable, after all.

Don't wanna tango with you
I'd rather tangle with him
I think I'm gonna bash his head in

Heero’s fingers were buried in the soft thread that was Duo’s pride and joy, his lips caressing whatever flesh he could reach. He tasted so good, so enticing, so delicious. He momentarily wondered if Duo would protest if they just ducked into an alley.

“Get your dishonorable hands off of him.”

Heero’s head snapped to the commanding voice, along with Duo’s. Duo’s cheeks instantly flushed as his head fell shamefully, waterfall of chestnut shielding him from the accusing looks.

“Wufei,” Heero snarled, his voice low. “He has his place. Now, leave.”

“I will have my justice,” the Chinese pilot retorted.

Duo looked up, peering through the heavy thickness of his shimmering tresses. “I’m so sorry, Wufei.”

“Quiet!” the Shenlong pilot hissed, knuckles white from the tight fists his hands had formed. “He and I will settle this, and then I will settle things with you.”

Heero’s eyes turned into slits, the shadows of night falling eerily around him. A wind smelling slightly of crisp autumn air and reddened leaves blew through the street, lifting their hair up in a small swirl. “That’s what you think.”

Wufei ran at him, eyes intense and fury-filled.

And this shouldn't concern you except that
Just don't expect to get your bloody black backpack back

Wufei evaded the punch that Heero threw at him, ducking under his arm and sliding behind him. His fist connected with the Wing pilot’s left kidney, knocking a small cry out of his lean body.

The other pilot threw another punch, this time connecting with his jaw. Heero’s head flew to the side for a second, then steadied as he took a step back. Wufei rushed at him again, throwing several punches at once, only this time, Heero dodged them all.

After the small onslaught of blows that Wufei attempted to rain down, Heero pulled back a fist and threw it at the Chinese boy, catching him in the jaw. He reeled back a few steps, only to hit once more, this time in the cheek, which sent him back another few feet.

Just as Wufei stabilized himself, he had no time to duck as a black backpack crashed into his nose. He heard a sickening crack, then crimson blood, as redder than any fire blazing in the black cover of night, began to flow, running down his lips and chin in a thick nightmarish waterfall. Before he had time to even scream his fury, the bag came down once more, this time striking his temple, knocking him to the ground in an unconscious heap.

Heero handed the dripping knapsack to Duo, which he took back with some reluctance. “How far is it to his apartment?” Heero asked as he hoisted the limp body over his shoulder.

“Just two blocks away,” Duo answered.

Heero eyed the backpack suspiciously, Wufei hanging over his shoulder precariously. “What’s in there, anyway?”

A woman passed them on the street, looking at them peculiarly. Duo shrugged, smiled openly, and responded to her unspoken question with a point to Wufei and the single word, “Drunk.” She nodded, smiled in return, and continued walking.

Duo thought, attempting to remember all the things that he had carried in his bag. “There’s some clothes, a couple books, some pictures, my CD player-” His face suddenly paled, detectable even in the darkness. He dropped to his knees on the sidewalk, ripped open the bag, and rooted through it with amazing fervor.

He yanked out his CD player, laying it on the cool cement, along with a colorful group of tangled wires that connected to it. He pulled out a book, set it beside the small device, then rummaged deeper.

A sigh of relief passed through his lips as he pulled forth a golden picture frame, the corners swirled into ancient Celtic designs. The photograph it housed revealed both Wing and Deathscythe pilots, Duo smiling while Heero silently scowled.

“Whew!” Duo sighed as he threw everything back into his bag. “If you would’ve broken this, I would’ve killed you myself, and a stupid backpack to the face wouldn’t have stopped me.”

“You still have that?” Heero questioned, a little astonished.

Duo stood back up, slinging the bloodied bag over his shoulder. “Of course! Why? Don’t you have yours?” he asked a little hurtfully.

“Mine had an accident,” Heero muttered.

“Aw,” Duo mocked. “You do care!”

The Wing pilot stared ahead, the streetlights giving off small halos of light. The moon hung overhead, pale and comforting, just like everything else this strange night. He sighed, taking a deep breath of the night air while shifting the body that hung over his shoulder. Both boys walked in silence for awhile, understanding all that didn’t need to be said, all that just was.

“Heero?”

“Yes?”

“You’re a baka.”

“Shut up, Duo.”

Smiles, light and tranquil, were exchanged and they both noted something in the other: the masks were gone. It was only them in the world, but then again, that was all they needed. All anxiety, all distractions, all precautions were shed, and it was just two lost young boys who had no need for anything other than one another.

And the night kissed them passionately, loving them just as much they loved one each other.

The End