Author’s Note: I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – I CAN’T WRITE ROMANCE! But yet I try. And try again, hoping someday to find that perfect balance between humour, action, and romance that will construe the perfect fic. Alas, for these cursed bonds of school work which impede my quest for the Holy Grail of Fanfiction, the Perfect Fic. So in the meantime, here you go. An odd quasi-romantic fic – not a lemon, so all you hentais can vamoose – inspired by, of all things, a theology class. And for those of you in public schools, that’s religion. I’m trying out a new writing style, hope it doesn’t ruin the story.

Disclaimer: I have a dream! A dream that someday I shall own the G-Boys! And until that day, I sincerely wish that I will not be sued! *ducks various semi-rotting fruits and/or vegetables being hurled at her* Fine. I don’t own them, a bunch of rich old farts do. Happy?

A Matter of Theology

Chapter One

In Which Duo Finds Out That He Is Different

Duo bent down and rummaged in the small – very small – fridge in the equally small kitchen in the equally tiny safehouse. Having found the object of his search, last night’s leftover sloppy joes, he promptly banged his head on the low door of the pantry/kitchen, once again forgetting to duck. Glaring at the innocent doorframe and rubbing his head, the braided pilot cursed under his breath as he made his way to the small table. Everything in the house was small. One of the reasons everything in the house was small was that it was built in the 1800s, when people didn’t grow as tall as the self-styled Shinigami. The house stood on a lonely stretch of land along a rocky coast on the harsh shore of Newfoundland. Yes, that’s right, the Gundams had been relocated to Canada.

Hidden in the bay in a underwater cave, now resided the weapons of mass destruction we all know and love as Deathscythe, Altron, and Heavyarms. Their compadres in war, Wing and Snadrock, were currently out seriously messing up the baddies hope of taking over the world. Poor Duncan.

The pilots of said residing Gundams were actually not on the premises – both had fled the tiny house at first chance, ostinately to pick up groceries at the nearest town, forty and some kilometres away (and no, I’m not going to tell you how many miles that is). So Duo was all along, as he usually preferred it, especially in this house. No strange creaking to bother him.

And as he was along, he was engaging in his favourite past time – pigging out. A roast beef sandwich, a can of chili, and a box of Timbits had already fallen prey to his bottomless stomach. Two sloppy joes quickly joined them.

As Duo was putting away his dishes and fixings, the back door slammed open, announcing the arrival either of the wartorn heroes or the food. It proved to be the latter. As evinced by a thunk and a tinkling sound from the hall, a sound that was becoming very familiar, as Trowa was taller than his copilots and therefore was the only one who was tall enough to whack his head on the light fixture.

Wufei stumped in, irritable as usual, even more so since they had arrived in this vast and frozen land, shaking snow off his boots. The boys had discovered very quickly that their former gear would leave them frozen corpses by the end of winter, so had (wisely) invested in parkas and snowboots. Anyway, Wufei was irritable.

“Onna at the store tried to chat us up for what seemed like hours. Couldn’t understand a word the stupid onna was saying. Baka Newfies.” The same old litany. Duo sighed. Again. But still, the way Wufei slipped out of his parka and boots in the confines of the mudroom, which attached to the kitchen, caught his eye, and it wasn’t until this interesting performance was almost complete that Duo realized he was staring.

Trowa came in then, hauling with him the bags of groceries Wufei had left. His single visible eye swept through the room. “Quatre back?” he asked quietly, as was his wont.

“Nope,” Duo replied, “Blondie hasn’t stuck his nose in the door yet. Shouldn’t be too much longer, though. These Canucks can’t be too difficult to overcome.”

“Hn.”

Duo sighed mentally. He would be glad when Quatre got back. At least he’d have someone to talk to. Having a conversation with these two was like pulling teeth. Except with Wufei, it was more like a hockey player after a brawl, spitting out vituperations then lapsing into silence before tirading again. But Trowa was like pulling teeth. From someone who doesn’t scream.

Duo helped put the groceries away, eyeing each package with a carnivorous eye. Wufei was finishing with the refrigerated stuff when Duo, hoping to snag a piece of toast with the yummy new strawberry jam they had got, was stopped by a hand that grabbed his wrist firmly.

“No, Duo.” said Wufei, surprisingly with very little irritability. “I noticed the leftover roast beef, the veggie chili, and the sloppy joes are gone, which they weren’t when we left. No more food for you.”

“Awww,” Duo whined, not removing his hand and not really wanting to. Wufei dropped it as he closed the fridge door. Duo turned away and was almost at the door when a jerk on his braid snapped his head back and sent him stumbling through the door. He whirled around, eyes blazing.

“What the –!” he started angrily, but stopped when Wufei just pointed up. Duo glanced upwards involuntarily. He had forgotten the doorframe. “Uh, thanks.”

“Baka.” Wufei growled as he left through the other door.

Duo cocked his head. That was….different, he thought to himself. He shrugged. Well, it’s just Wufei. Duo climbed the creaking and rickety stairs to the second floor loft. Only he had his own room. There were only three, tow up here and one downstairs, under the stairs. Quatre and Trowa shared the downstairs one – for obvious reasons, given the fact that the wall were much thicker.

The other three had drawn – Heero and Wufei had been stuck together and Duo had gotten the tiny room under the attic. It was there that he now secreted himself, along with a good book (Gundam with the Wind). However, his mind was far from his book. Well, not that far. Only about as far as the lower floor, where he knew Wufei was reading the newpaper. His lithe frame would be draped over the couch in that crouching-cat kind of feel, like he could leap into action at anytime, his obsidian eyes intent as he scanned the headlines, a stray bit of hair falling over caramel cheeks –

Duo came back to himself with a start, swallowing deeply. Do not think about Wufei, do not think about Wufei, do not think about Wufei, do not think about that gorgeous body….damn. Duo rolled onto his stomach, intent upon finishing at least one page. Unfortunately, his mind betrayed him before the end of the line.

Wufei, slipping out of the incumbent down-filled jacket in a twisting dance, offering Duo some interesting views of many sides of him, the feel of a smooth, cool hand on his wrist, the odd tone in his voice as admonished the chestnut-haired pilot. Duo dropped the book and rolled on his back He stared up at the wood-slated ceiling

Shit. he thought. I’ve got the hots for a guy. He paused in his thoughts. Double shit. I’ve got the hots for Wufei.

Chapter Two

In Which the Gundam Pilots Watch Hockey and Wufei Gets a Surprise

As Duo had predicted, the conquering heroes returned soon after. Quatre was glad to relate their experiences, but as usual Heero had nothing but a Hn for them all.

“It was much harder than we thought.” Quatre commented, hands curled around a mug of tea that Trowa had put on as soon as hearing steps in the hall. “They had writers on their side. Three damn persistent ones, too. They got away, as did that ringleader Duncan. We tried to follow them, but the woods are to thick and they know the terrain. It might take a while, but I think he’ll be back.”

Duo whistled. “How’d they get the manpower? Not to mention the writers. There aren’t many of those that’ll stand against Gundams.”

Quatre shrugged. “No idea. I recognized their writing style during the battle. Give me a while and I’ll be able to place them.”(1)

“If these three have gone renegade, it could be bad,” Wufei added gravely. “They can cause systems malfunctions, beef up the resistance, spread disease. We have to get these onnas before they get out of hand.”

Heero glanced at one of the windows. “Impossible in this weather. It’s snowing again.”

“Again?” Duo bounced up and across the room to the radio perched on the spice rack in the kitchen. He switched it on and the grainy voice of the announcer came through.

“—severe weather conditions. The school board has announced all schools will be closed tomorrow and for the duration of this blizzard. We are advising everyone to gather up their candles and flashlights in the event of a blackout, also warm blankets for those of you without your own generators.

“In sports news, the Leafs are at the Habs tonight in Toronto—” Duo flicked the radio off.

“Blizzard?” Quatre said, shivering a little bit. Trowa patted his shoulder. “But that’s cold!”

“Well,” Duo said, mock-cheerfully. “Here’s our chance to experience a true Canadian winter!”

Wufei scowled. “Canada. Meh.”

“What time was the hockey game on?” Heero asked thoughtfully. The others raised various eyebrows. He stare them down. “What? Guys chasing after a small round black piece of rubber before fighting? What else is there to watch during a blizzard?”

Actually, it was true. Even in this day and age, it wasn’t uncommon for houses as remote as theirs to get only three channels on their small bad-quality (but luckily in colour) TV. One of these channels was CBC. So at seven that night…..

“Dun-dah-dun-dah-dun, dun-dah-dun-dah-dun, dun-dun-dun-dun-dun….” (2) “Welcome to Hockey Night in Canada, brought to you in part by Ford. Ford Drives America. Tonight’s game is at the Air Canada Centre in downtown Toronto. Facing off tonight are the Toronto Maple Leafs and the Montreal Canadians….” (3)

Standard hockey gibberish followed, players stats, the starting line-up, etc. Our favourite teenage pilots were currently draped over various pieces of furniture in their den/living room, facing the TV. Trowa and Quatre were occupying the couch, almost-but-not-quite cuddling. Duo had claimed the large armchair across the room. Heero was sitting on the floor leaning against the far end of the couch from Quatre and Trowa, and Duo was consternated to find that Wufei had chosen to rest against Duo’s own perch. Several times during the game, Duo had to forcibly prevent himself from reaching down to stroke the ebony hair that presented itself to him.

While Duo was mentally deliberating with himself on the merits of hair-stroking, Wufei himself was having some misgivings as to his choice of seating arrangements. After unsuccessfully trying to convince himself that this was the only place left, Wufei had to admit that he had chosen to sit by the braided and oft-times annoying pilot. Granted, he did have the most gorgeous body Wufei had ever seen, as sleek and lithe as a cat’s—see, this was the reason Wufei knew this was a bad idea.

Being a generally intelligent guy, Wufei had known for quite sometime that he “swung that way”, as it is sometimes put—a discovery aided and abetted by the honourably-deceased Trieze Kushrenada—but the Chinese man had never thought he would swing in Duo’s direction, to follow the phase. Certainly not in the direction of that stubborn, pig-headed (and -habited), insincere, foolish, gorgeouss – there he went again. He would have to get himself under control and move at the end of the first period. Or maybe the second.

About two hours later, after a Leaf victory of 5-3, Wufei had still not moved. Silently cursing himself for his weakness, he hauled himself off the floor and up the rickety stairs to his shared room. Still muttering irately to himself, he slipped under the covers, not bothering to take off his clothes. The room was chilly enough, even without the miserable storm howling outside. When Heero slipped in about a half hour later, Wufei was still cursing everything from the storm to himself to the house to Duo and back to the storm.

Chapter 3

In Which Wufei Can’t Sleep

The storm got progressively worse. The wind howled louder, the snow fell more thickly, and the cold started biting. Heero got up sometime about 11 to wedge something in the only window in the room, which was permanently open a crack in its warped frame. Around midnight, the cold had seeped into Wufei’s bones through his blanket and his clothes. Muttering to himself and being careful not to disturb Heero, he slipped out of the room and headed for the closet in the hall. Pulling out the two quilts still there (there had been five before—Wufei assumed the others had gotten cold and already raided), he padded down the hall again, passing the bathroom and Duo’s crawlspace of a room.

A small sound from said pilot’s room attracted Wufei’s attention. The door stood slightly ajar, so Wufei nudged it aside with his foot and peeked in. By the dim moonlight that had penetrated the storm (there were no curtains on Duo’s window) he saw the slight form huddled under one thin blanket. The cloth moved as if the occupant of the bed was shivering. Something about that made Wufei angry.

Dumping the quilts on the floor, he pulled off his sweater and covered the window so the bone-biting wind (4) wouldn’t leak through. Grabbing both quilts, he spread them over the prone form, trying not the wake the slumbering pilot. Duo relaxed slightly as the warmth sank in, snuggling into the covers. Wufei leaned back on his haunches, regarding the peacefully sleeping brunette. A small voice said that now he would be cold for the rest of the night, but perversely, he didn’t care. Now Duo was warm.

As Wufei watched him, he noticed abstractedly that the pilot of Deathscythe, while normally a cheerful annoyance at best, and a demon on the battlefield, looking like neither of these things in sleep. In fact, he looked like nothing short of an angel. Hair had escaped his braid and fuzzed out in a halo around his face, catching the very faint light that escaped from the hall, accenting the smooth curves and planes of his face.

Suddenly his snapped open and he sat up so quickly that Wufei rocked back. The violet eyes were wide in apprehension. Seeing the shadowy form against the door, he scrambled backwards. As usual when he woke up in unfamiliar environs, Duo had no clue where he was, and the menacing form of shadow beyond the light spoke of danger.

“Duo?” a soft voice came out of the darkness and the form moved into the light, revealing angular eyes and cheeks framed by soft black locks. Duo recovered almost immediately.

“Wufei?” he asked. “What are you doing in my room?”

Wufei was glad for the darkness, so Duo couldn’t see the flush rising up his neck. “Uh, nothing,” he replied, forcing his voice into the normal gruff tone he used. “Go to sleep Maxwell.”

He quickly backed out of the room and closed the door. Duo settled back down, pulling up the covers, much heavier than he remembered them being, and lay for a long time staring into the dark, thinking. His last thought before oblivion took him was If you here doing nothing, then why am I warm?

After their encounter, Wufei couldn’t sleep. He lay down until he started shivering, then got up and walked around the hallway for a bit, glaring moodily out the double windows, which showed nothing but swirling snow. He groped his way down the kitchen in the dark, where he made himself a pot of coffee and sat at the kitchen table drinking it slowly.

Chapter 4

In Which Quatre Needs to Pee

Footsteps told him either Trowa or Quatre was up. The footsteps disappeared upstairs, then came down ten minutes later. A sound from the doorway made him turn. Quatre stood there, looking at him quietly. Wufei shifted uncomfortably under the blonde Arabian’s gaze. He swallowed. “Coffee?” he asked meekly, a rare feat for the strong-willed man.

Quarter raised an eyebrow at his tone. “Sure.”

Wufei grabbed a cup and poured a hot cup. Quatre sat down at the table and for a long minute neither of them spoke, until the blonde broke the silence.

“I was just upstairs,” he said casually, not really talking to Wufei, more towards the radio. “Checking on you guys, out of habit. I peeked in Duo’s room. Couldn’t see him under all the covers he had on, not to mention the window was covered.” There was a long pause. “Y’know, before I went to bed, Duo wouldn’t take a quilt, even when I warned him it would be cold. He reasoned that the quilts would be better put to use for us. And he hadn’t had his window covered.”

Another long pause. Quatre cast a side-long glance at the silent pilot. “You should have seen Duo during the game. Every three seconds his hand would twitch out towards your hair. He almost touched it once, but snatched his hand back at the last moment.” Silence again.

“No.” Wufei didn’t ask it. It was a statement. “You must have seen wrong. It must have been just a shiver, from the cold.” He glanced up. “Wasn’t it?”

Quatre looked sharply at the Chinese pilot, at the odd tone in his voice. Almost plaintive, really. His eyes were pools of moonlight, unreadable. Quatre blinked. “Maybe Wufei.” He replied evenly. “What do you think?”

The quiet question prompted Wufei to glance down again. “Yes. Just shivering. Th-that was it.” his voice was shaking. He cursed the weakness that made him break down like this, over an American idiot. “Just shivering.” He wasn’t sure who he was trying to fool, himself or Quatre.

“Wufei….” Wufei looked up at the gentle Arabian. “Wufei,” he said again. “Whenever I was hurt or in love, I came to you. Trowa has too. You’ve always told us what we had to do; what we already knew we had to do. And you were always right. You were so wise in the ways of love and relationships. You saw the problem, and how to fix it. But now—”

“Quatre,” It wasn’t Wufei’s voice. They both twisted around. Trowa stood in the doorway, bare to the waist. “Quatre,” he said again.

Quatre smiled. “Coming, love,” He set down his empty mug and got up. He patted Wufei gently on the shoulder. “Open your eyes.”

Chapter Five

In Which Wufei Leaps Into Action

Long hours after Quatre had left Wufei alone in the dark, he staggered up to bed, too tired to care about the cold as he fell into his bed. Some few hours later he woke with the sun in his eyes. Heero was gone from his bed and there were sounds of life from below. Stretching, he noticed the pile at the end of his bed. Two quilts, neatly folded. Raising an eyebrow, Wufei left them as he pulled on another sweater and went to join his fellow pilots—and one pilot in particular.

The snow had finally stopped, but it had piled itself chest-high against the windows and doors. They were snowed in. Good thing Trowa and himself had gone for groceries before the snow had started.

“Welcome to Canada, eh Quatre?” Duo was saying over the coffee pot as he leant against the stove for warmth. “The Great White North, that it is.” Wufei stepped silently up behind him. “Right chilly, as they would sa—? Uh, Quatre?” Duo had noticed Quatre’s stare behind him. He tilted his head back until the obsidian eyes swam into focus. “Uh, heya Wufei—heh, heh, coffee?”

“Yes, please,” he rumbled. Duo snapped his head back up and turned around.

“What, no ‘Baka,’ or ‘Kisama,’ or ‘Of course, Maxwell!’,” Duo imitated Wufei at his crabbiest best.

Wufei raised an eyebrow. “No. Coffee, please.”

A strange look passed over Duo’s face. Wufei saw surprise, and doubt, and—fear? Then his face settled into the normal cocky grin that he usually wore.

“Wow, looks like someone actually woke up on the right side of the bed this morning,” he quipped as he poured a hot cup.

As he slipped into the seat beside Quatre, he muttered out of the side of his mouth, “Am I really that cranky?”

“Just to him,” Quatre replied over the rim of his mug, hiding a smile.

Later, house-bound, the pilots were lounging around in the living room. Quatre and Trowa had found a jigsaw puzzle somewhere and had the pieces spread out on the floor around them. Heero and Duo were playing cards at the table, and Wufei was curled up in an armchair reading an old novel he had found in a trunk in the closet, The Sea Wolf, by Jack London.

However, the adventures and misadventures of Wolf Larsen and his crew failed to hold Wufei’s interest as did Duo playing cards. Duo was absently chewing on the end of his braid while intently studying his cards. Equally absently, Wufei reached over and tugged it away. Duo tensed up. Casting a fearful glance in Wufei’s direction, eyes as wide as a hunted hare, he dropped his cards and, muttering a vague excuse, dashed out of the room. Wufei watched him go in bewilderment. He questioningly glanced at Quatre, who had looked up as Duo fled. He gave a little shrug, saying, ‘I don’t know.”

Trowa and Heero were staring at him. Quatre’s eyes told him, ‘Go’. Not bothering with an excuse, Wufei dropped the book and ran after the object of his affection.

Chapter 6

In Which a Duo gets a Surprise, Quatre Gets an Idea, Wufei Gets a Nosebleed, and Someone Has A Flashback

Duo had run straight to his room. Wufei found him there, laying facedown on his bed, arms wrapped around his pillow tightly. Wufei stopped and watched him, noticing how his shoulders shook with each breath. Wufei felt like kicking his own ass. He had made Duo cry. He, Wufei, had made him, Duo, the only thing in Wufei’s life that made it worth living, cry.

“Duo….” Wufei began, as gently as he could. Duo’s entire body tensed up. He rolled over and sat up, clutching the pillow like a shield. His eyes were red and glistening trails ran down his cheeks.

“Wufei!” he sounded glad. Then his expression flickered and he turned away, spinning so his back was to the Chinese boy. “Go away.” the voice was flat, with no emotion.

Wufei slipped into the room and dropped to his knees behind the braided boy. “Duo…..I don’t want to,” he paused. “Please let me stay.” he put his hands on the slim shoulders, felt the muscles bunching and moving. “I don’t want to go.”

The smaller boy let out a sob. “Neither do I.”

Wufei let go as if he had been burned. “You what?” Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn’t this. He had expected revulsion, he had expected anger. Not this.

Duo tensed again. “Sorry….” He said in a barely audible voice. “Sorry…..”

Wufei slowly reached out and put his hands back on Duo’s shoulders, turning him gently. “No sorry,” he said firmly, staring into violet eyes that threatened to fill with tears. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

Duo smiled faintly. “That you did. When I woke up this morning, I was warm. I went to bed cold, I know I did. Then I found your sweater over the window. And I knew you hadn’t been a dream.” He smiled again. “You looked like a dream. With the moonlight behind you, and your face….that was the first kind expression I’ve ever seen you wear. That’s why I thought you were a dream. An act of kindness from you, for me. Dreamin’”

“Why—” Wufei licked lips suddenly dry. “Why did you think that?”

Duo looked startled. “You’ve always been so cold. And rough. And crabby. You never had a good word for me. You called me baka, kisama, everything else. You wouldn’t even call me Duo. Always Maxwell. I never want to hear that name again. Not belonging to me.” He sighed. “I never should’ve taken it. It belonged to a man far greater than I could ever be.” He looked down at the ground. “Always Maxwell.”

“Duo….” Wufei raised his face with a finger under his chin. “Duo, I was mean and crabby and all that because I didn’t want to risk—” he stopped abruptly and took away his hand. Duo caught hold of it.

“Risk what, Wufei?” his voice was level.

Wufei looked down. “Risk—letting my feelings out, I was afraid….afraid that someone would see…..that you would see, and you would hate me for—” he stopped again.

Duo squeezed his hand. “Why would I hate you for?” he asked in a low voice.

Wufei swallowed. “Hate me for….loving you.”

The hand holding his froze. Wufei felt his heart plummet. He tore it out of Duo’s grasp and turned away, cursing himself for seven types of a fool. He started to get up, but a hand on his arm stopped him.

“Why do you think I didn’t have the courage to stroke your hair last night?”

Wufei turned. Duo had dropped his pillow; it lay beside the bed. He looked up at Wufei with wide eyes. Then Wufei was there. Hands on his back and warm lips on his own. Duo’s hands flew up and twined in the ebony hair, twisted his shirt. Wufei’s warm lips played over Duo’s soft ones. His tongue snaked out and flicked Duo’s lower lip, asking to be let in. Duo parted his lips with a small gasp and Wufei’s tongue slid in, twisting and licking.

Wufei’s body was pounding, heat exploding and running through his body. He left Duo’s mouth and worked his warm down the smooth pale neck, eliciting gasps and groans from the other boy as Wufei nipped and teased. His hands slid down to Duo’s waist and dipped under his shirt, running chill hands over the warm smoothness of his back and stomach. As his lips continued their work and Duo’s face and neck, Wufei’s hand dipped into the waistband of his jeans.

Duo gasped again, not in pleasure but fear. He pushed himself away from the Chinese pilot and scuttled backwards across the bed, where he curled up in a ball against the wall, his head buried between his knees. Wufei rocked back on his knees, startled, wondering what he had done wrong. Had he gone too far? Too fast?

As the pounding in his body subsided, he asked in a shaky voice, “D-duo? What’s wrong? Did I—?”

“Go.”

“Duo, I—”

“Just go!” Duo’s voice broke on the last word. Bewildered, but unwilling to hurt the braided boy any more than he had apparently already did, Wufei stood quietly and slipped out the door. He ran the few steps to his own room and flung himself down on his bed, the door swinging shut behind him.

Drawing a few deep, shuddering breaths, Wufei cursed himself again. No he had gone and ruined any chance he might have had with Duo by rushing. Curse his wandering fingers! Curse them! Now the braided boy would be so repulsed by him that he would leave—or make Wufei leave. He doubted he could stand that. The American pilot had been a part of his life for long enough that to live without him would be like tearing his heart out. At worst, he would do something drastic—most likely get himself blown up on a routine mission out of deliberate carelessness. At best, he would retreat into the cold shell he had built after his wife’s death. Meiran….

*flashback*

That cursed field of flowers. His dying wife was gathered in his arms, every breath and word from her mouth more painful than the last. Her body was broken, twisted, like the discarded hunk of metal nearby that had almost been her final resting place. Meiran was dying. And he cried.

Meiran smiled as best she could, a painful grimace that contorted her beautiful face even more. She raised a shaky hand to his cheek, to wipe away the wetness there. “Weak…” she murmured, half-serious, ignoring the pools that welled up in her own eyes.

“No, Meiran,” Wufei choked. “You can’t go. I…I love you. I love you, Meiran.”

“You….will love….again,” Meiran murmured. “You must. I…re...lease…you….” Her head lolled back and the warrior light in her eyes dimmed and faded.

Wufei howled his anguish to the uncaring flowers. “Meiran!”

*end flashback*

“Meiran…” he murmured, head buried in his pillow. “I did love again. And lost, again.”

A soft knock at the door jolted him out of his reverie. “Go away,” he said gruffly. It was a phrase he was hearing a lot lately.

“Wufei, let me in.” Quatre’s voice, gentle but resolute, came through the door.

“It’s open.”

The door creaked open and Quatre slipeed in. He sat beside Wufei on the bed. “What happened? Duo’s door is closed and locked, and he won’t answer.” He laid a gentle hand on Wufei’s shoulder. “Why did he run? What happened?”

Wufei shrugged Quatre’s hand off. “I don’t know why he ran. I followed him, and we talked, and then I—” he stopped. “Never mind.”

Quatre replaced his hand. “What did you do?”

“I—” he swallowed. “I—” he sat up suddenly, slapping Quatre’s hand away and facing him, eye blazing. “I kissed him, okay?!” he said angrily. “I kissed him, and he pushed me away, and told me to leave.” Wufei glanced down. “He told me to leave.” He said quietly. “I screwed it all up.”

Quatre patted him gently on the knee. “Maybe not.” Wufei glanced up at him sharply. Quatre smiled. “When you kissed him, did you just kiss him, or did he kiss back?”

Wufei flushed. “I, uh, I just kissed him. But he didn’t fight at first.”

Quatre raised an eyebrow. “At first? How long was this kiss?”

Wufei flushed even redder. “Not long—I think. I kinda, uh, lost track of time.”

Quatre smiled knowingly. “Ah, one of those kisses. But this is good. if it was one of those kisses for him, too—” he shot a sharp glance at Wufei. “How did he react? Did he react?”

“He, uh, grabbed at my shirt and kinda twirled his fingers in my hair. I think.” Wufei was stumbling. Dammit, he was above this. Why was he acting like a gawky adolescent? He had been married, for cryin’ out loud.

“Hmm….” Quatre seemed lost in thought. “I think it’s safe to assume that it was one of those kisses for him, as well. Wait a while. He’ll come.”

“How do you know?” Wufei asked curiously

Quatre smiled a secretive little smile. “Let’s just say Trowa is an expert in those kisses.” (5) Wufei blushed. Quatre laughed. “I’m no slouch at them either. Otherwise….” He grinned at the thought. He got up from the bed, giving Wufei’s knee another pat. “You’ll see. Duo’ll come to see you, by morning if I’m not mistaken. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to see a man about a horse.” He winked at Wufei. “Our little talk’s given me an idea…”

Wufei lunged for the tissue box as Quatre closed the door. (6)

Chapter 7

In Which the Matter of Theology Arises

Wufei was beginning to think Quatre had been wrong. Duo hadn’t stuck his nose out the door since that afternoon, and Wufei was beginning to wonder if he had hurt him during their encounter. Meiran hadn’t objected… Wufei snapped his mind back to the present. Meiran was Meiran, not Duo. Wufei felt his heart jump at every creak from the general direction of Duo’s crawlspace, but it was always just the house settling or something similar. Duo had missed supper, a rare occurrence for him. Quatre had taken up a tray and left it outside the door.

Wufei felt miserable. Trowa and Heero were still glaring at him suspiciously, and Quatre was so worried about Duo he almost burnt himself on the stove twice, stopped both times by the tall pilot, who always had an eye (usually his invisible one) focused on the Arabian.

Answers didn’t come until late that night. Heero was asleep, his peculiar deep whuffling emanating from the darkness. Wufei slept only lightly, images of Duo’s terrified face jolting him out of sleep. Sometime during the night, Wufei decided to take a walk to see if it would help him sleep. But he was stopped by something large blocking his doorway. Looking up and down the hallway curiously, but seeing no one, he scooping up the object. It turned out to be a thick book with a folded piece of paper stuck in the top. Wufei carried it down the hall to the ledge by the window. The pale moonlight streaming through the window caught the gold lettering on the cover. Catechism of the Catholic Church. A chill ran though him. Whatever this was, it was from Duo, and it sounded ominous.

He pulled out the folded paper, keeping its place in the book with his thumb out of habit. It was a single sheet of lined paper, with word scribbled on one side. Wufei recognized Duo’s distinctive scrawl. He forced himslef to focus on the words.

Wufei,

I’m sorry this had to happen. I didn’t want it to. Goodbyes are hard, I know. But I

have to say them. I’ve had to say goodbye to everyone I ever loved, and now is no

exception. I have to go. The book you hold, you may have heard of it. if you

haven’t, it’s all the teachings of the Church on everything. I’ve lived my life by

this book. I’ve justified everything I’ve ever done. But I can’t justify this. I’m so

sorry. The mags magestur magesterium can say it better than I can. I marked the

page. If you closed the book, it’s numbers 767 - 789.

Goodbye,

Duo

Wufei folded up the letter, curious to know what Duo couldn’t justify. He had a sneaking suspicion, and hoped it wasn’t true. He flipped open the book again and sought the verses Duo had named. As soon as his eyes fell on the first one, he groaned inwardly.

2357 Homosexuality refers to relations between men or between women who experience an exclusive or predominant sexual attraction toward persons of the same sex. It has taken many forms through the centuries and in different cultures. Its psychological genesis remains largely unexplained. Basing itself on Sacred Scripture, which presents homosexual acts as acts of grave depravity, tradition has always declared that “homosexual acts are intrinsically disordered.” They are contrary to the natural law. They close the sexual act to the giving of life. They do not proceed from a genuine affective and sexual complemetarity. Under no circumstances can they be approved.

2358 The number of men and women who have deep-seated homosexual tendencies is not negligible. They do not choose their homosexual condition; for most of them it is a trial. They must be accepted with respect, compassion, and sensitivity. Every sign of unjust discrimination in their regard should be avoided. These persons are called to fulfill God’s will in their lives and, if they are Christians, to unite to the sacrifice f the Lord’s Cross the difficulties they may encounter from their condition.

2359 Homosexual persons are called to chastity. By the virtues of self-mastery that teach them inner freedom, at times by the support of disinterested friendship, by prayer and sacramental grace, they can and should gradually and resolutely approach Christian perfection.

Scrawled in the margin, in Duo’s hand, was Chastity: virtue, no sexual acts (7)

So this was why Duo had shied away. He was simply following his faith. But he said he had to go. That was impossible. They were snowed in. Wufei glanced out the window, but the only view it offered was the cliff behind the house. Duo’s wouldn’t leave that way.

Making up his mind, Wufei hurtled down the stairs as quickly as he could without breaking his neck. The front door was closed, but beyond it Wufei could see a Duo-sized tunnel in the snow. Without bothering even to put boots on over his sock feet, Wufei dashed down the lane Duo had created. He found him fifty meters from the house, slogging determinedly through the snow.

“Duo!”

Duo stopped. Then, shaking his head, he plowed forward. Wufei ran a little farther, calling out again. This time Duo did turn around. He gaped at the sight of Wufei hurtling towards him, in nothing but sweats and an undershirt, in sock feet, sloshing through the snow.

“Wufei?” Duo stepped towards him, unintentionally. Wufei slid to a stop in front of him, barely panting, but his breath fogging out in the crisp cold.

“Duo,” he said. “You don’t have to say goodbye this time.”

Duo looked at him. “But—you must have gotten my letter, read the Catechism. ‘No sexual acts,’” he recited in an acid tone.

“So?”

Duo stared at him. “But—Trowa, and Quatre, they—don’t you—” he stammered. “We can’t, you know, be together, that way.”

“So?” Wufei said again. “Duo, what Trowa and Quatre do is their own business. I’ve loved before, and been loved. And then I lost. But she told me I would love again. And I did. I do. And I’m not going to lose it again.”

“She—but aren’t you?” Duo asked, confusion tinging his voice.

Wuei smiled sadly. “I was married once, before the war started. I was just a scholar, and she was the colony’s finest warrior. She hated me at first, for being what I was, just a weak scholar. But when we were thrown together, we came to like each other. But it wasn’t until that last battle that we loved each other. She died that day, protecting a field of flowers. And I lost my first love.” He voice sounded wistful, but hardened with his next words. I won’t lose my second.” He stepped closer to the bundled up Duo. “Duo, I love you. I love everything about you. And you don’t have to do anything you don’t want. I’ll take cold showers every night if I have to, but you can give me whatever love you think I deserve.”

“Wufei…” Duo’s voice was soft. Then he noticed the shiver that had come over Wufei. And the fact that his lips, those lovely, kissable, talented lips, were turning an unhealthy shade of purple. “Wufei, you’re turning blue.”

Wufei shivered again. “It is the middle of winter.”

Duo laughed. “And you ran out here in nothing but your nightclothes to stop me from leaving. Now go!” he said in the commanding voice Sister Helen had used on the kids at the orphanage.

Wufei gaped at him. Then he folded his arms. “No. Not unless you come back with me.”

Duo was worried. His lips were blue now, and his cheeks were becoming paler. “Fine, fine, now go, run!” He passed Wufei heading towards the house. “Look, see. I’m coming back.” He broke into a shuffling run in his ungainly boots. Wufei almost smiled.

Chapter 8

In Which There Is A Happy Ending

Safely back in the relative warmth of the house, Wufei leaning against the stove for warmth, Duo breached a subject he had been thinking about since their encounter earlier that day.

“When I, uh, pushed you away….earlier, did I hurt you?”

Wufei looked at him oddly. “No. Why did you think so?”

Duo ducked his head. “Well, when I looked at you, you looked so shocked and you left so quickly.”

Wufei smiled. “You did hurt me, in a way. I was so happy, that I didn’t have to keep it bottled up any more, and that you felt the same. I thought I could finally keep my promise. I was in heaven, for those few moments. Then you pushed me away. I thought that I had misunderstood you, or that I just dreamed that you said all the things you did, and you were disgusted with me. And I had made you cry, earlier. If I could have, I would have kicked my own ass for doing those things.”

Duo smiled at the mental image. “When you came flying at me like that, I thought you were going to smack me or something. I was terrified. Then you…kissed doesn’t even describe it, but you kissed me and the world exploded. Then when I felt your hands dipping below the belt, everything Sister Helen and Father Maxwell had taught me kicked in and I had to stop before I did something to make them ashamed of me.”

Wufei was silent for a while. “I never knew you took your past that seriously. I’ve seen the cross you wear, and I knew that you were raised in a Catholic orphanage, but I had no clue your religious convictions went beyond that.”

Duo grinned. “Religious convictions. Big words. You’re always so serious. And it’s not really religious convictions. I’m just honouring (7) the only mother and father I know.” He looked slyly at the Chinese boy. “By the way, where did you learn to kiss like that? I didn’t think you even had a personal life.”

Wufei flushed and shrugged. “I told you, I was married. Meiran had certain ideas about how things were to be. She trained me, you might say.”

“Meiran,” Duo repeated the name. “That was your wife’s name?” Wufei nodded sadly. “That’s a pretty name,” Duo commented. “What was she like?”

Wufei didn’t answer. His eyes seemed fixed on a point above and beyond Duo’s head. Duo realized that this might be a tender subject for the reticent pilot. “Sorry.” He said quickly. “You don’t have to talk about it, if you want.”

Wufei shook his head. “No, that’s fine. Meiran was…..well, Meiran was just Meiran. She was much like I am now. She was a warrior, and proud of her clan. She was passionate about everything she did. And strongwilled. Very strongwilled. She always called me weak for my pacifist ways.”

Duo raised an eyebrow. “You were a pacifist?”

“Before Meiran left me, yes. That was the reason I consented to become Shenlong’s pilot. To get revenge for her death, and the death of my entire colony.” His face hardened. “And I got my revenge.” The expression passed and he smiled again. “But all that’s passed. I’m at peace with that now.”

For once, Duo was silent. “I thought no one else knew.” He said quietly.

Wufei cocked his head. “Knew what?”

Duo drew a deep breath. “Knew what it was like to see everyone they ever knew and loved destroyed.”

Wufei moved away from the stove and wrapped his arms around the seated Duo. “Don’t worry, love, I’m entirely too tough to be destroyed.”

Duo rested his head on Wufei’s chest. “That’s nice.”

“What? That I’m tough?”

“No. That you called me ‘love’,”

Wufei smiled. “Seemed appropriate.”

Duo tilted his head back so he could look up at the other boy. “So you’re okay with this? Even though—”

“‘No sexual acts’” Wufei mimicked like Duo had earlier.

Duo smiled and thumped Wufei on the chest with his head. “Thank you.” He slipped his head between Wufei’s arms and stood up, stretching. “Good thing kissing is not considered a sexual act,” he smirked, stepping around the chair to loop his arms around Wufei’s shoulders. He leaned up to plant a single soft kiss on the no-longer-purple lips. Wufei enfolded Duo around his waist, bringing him closer for a true kiss. A long, movie-climax, foot-popping style kiss.

A pair of teal-green eyes peeked around the doorframe, a secret little smile playing across the adjacent face. Another eye joined his, then drew back. “Quatre,” Trowa hissed, pulling him back. “That isn’t nice. Leave them be.”

Quatre pouted. “How come you never kiss me like that any more?”

Trowa sighed. “Quatre, you know how I feel—”

Quatre’s eyes hardened. “Why don’t you ever kiss me like that anymore?” he asked again, in a voice of steel.

Trowa knew there was only one solution to this. Stepping close to the petite blonde, he ducked his head down for a kiss.

“Mmm….” Quatre murmured. “You have learned well, young grasshopper.”

FIN

Notes

(1) Haven’t you ever wondered if the baddies got a hold of some fanfiction writers and turned them loose? The world would be doomed. Crazed otakus using their magical author powers to affect the behavior of bishonen every where? Chaos!

(2) My pathetic attempt at typing out the Hockey Night in Canada theme song.

(3) The Montreal Canadians (yes, a real team) are les Habitants in French, therefore the Habs.

(4) The wind has teeth! Teeth!

(5) *suddenly reminded of Trowa-the-Blacksmith of OMAP* Gak! Trowa! Those kisses! *passes out from overload of hentai thoughts*

(6) All right, I finally did it. I made a nosebleeding-Wufei crack. And I told myself before I started that I wasn’t going to make one. Curse these stereotypes, curse them!

(7) I couldn’t find the definition for chastity. Must be in my religion notes. Oh well.

(8) Yes, that’s the right spelling, Americans.

Well, there it was. Yet another failed attempt to write a romance. Curse the theology class that inspired this! Curse it!