What do I do when
I am so in love with you
I forgot what I wanted to say
What are we doing?
You won't change your ways in time, in time
If I just saved you, you could save me too
If I just saved you, then you could save me too
No One Does it Better – You me at Six ~
No One Does it Better
Okay, I can admit it. I'm a big enough man to be aware of my faults and I know I can be an immature little bitch sometimes. That I can be overly dramatic, that I can be petty and that I can get pissy at the drop of a hat. I ain't perfect. But no one is, right?
I mean I try, my heart is always in the right place but I guess that sometimes I lose perspective on what's important and end up in stupid arguments with him. It was easy to do – we were both thick headed and stubborn – but I always goddamn initiated stuff. I knew all his buttons and pressed them with accuracy when needed. And he knew mine. Threw back a ton of shit that jarred my defences around my damn insecurities and left me packing my bag, slamming the door – my usual flair for the dramatic. Duo Maxwell for your attention, ladies and gentleman, king of the walk out and king of saying the wrong thing. Open mouth insert foot and all. Ridiculously good at that.
Yet in our entire two year relationship – started when we were both mature enough and had enough therapy – Heero had never walked out on me. Heero watched me with those eyes that killed me, kinda big, disappointed, puppy-ish even and I just slammed the door and had the image of him with his hands folded over his chest looking like that. Devastating, you know.
So when he left three days ago, packed his go bag and disappeared when I was at work, well, I found myself calling everyone we knew – Quat, Tro' and 'Fei, hell, even Princess Pink – but none of them knew where he was. I also may have sat in the bathtub with a bottle of tequila and not dealt very well. As you know, I am a mature and sensible adult who thinks that problems can be solved at bottoms of bottles. Which they can't. As I still hadn't heard from Heero or had any fucking clue where he was.
I tried, you know. Cell phone. Email. I even tried our old comm channel where we could send both short messages and even call each other over it – so damn heavily encrypted that we'd used them in the past on covert ops to say goodnight to one another. Fucked and cheesy ass romantic as it sounds, without Heero's kiss across my lips and his whispered "I love you" I found it hard to sleep. Me, ex-terrorist, ex-thief, motherfucking bad ass Preventer couldn't sleep unless my grumpy asshole of a boyfriend didn't lean over and brush his lips over mine.
Yeah. Pathetic. Tell this shit to my younger self and watch yourself laughed at hysterically.
But that old comm channel was so damn valuable as maybe he couldn't kiss me goodnight and all but I could hear his voice, deep and breathy, and it sent tingles down my spine. I got this love shit bad. Maybe I always had.
The comm channel, when I tried to use it, just said "error," which gave me no clue. I don't know whether the computer-genius asshole had blocked me or if it was genuinely not working. Whichever felt shitty to me. 'Ro had never cut me out before – he was Heero – calm, steady, patient and damn gorgeous to boot. And he took my shit. Every last bit of it. And fuck if I'm not gonna love the man for that.
Fuck if I've finally gone too far and lost him. It just proved, I guess, that perhaps I never actually deserved him.
Which was depressing as fuck to think about.
I slept like shit the last few nights, slunk into bed and decided to sleep on his side – smelling him on the pillows, breathing him in and I felt weirdly that I was still with him and man, it made me feel worse. I still did it though.
Woke up this morning, smelt him on my pillow and then showered for as long as I could before I had to go to work, wondering if it was possible to drown myself in there. Maybe. Maybe not. But fuck, I missed him surprising me in there, latching onto my neck and nosing my wet hair outta the way, touching me, feeling me, pushing me against the shower stall glass and banging me, making me come, panting, turning in his arms to kiss him, the slide of water and lips far too damn hot.
Solo showers were sure not as fun. Even if I jerked off thinking about him. Thinking of the way his breath hitched. Thinking of how his arms tightened around me. Thinking of how his hair tickled. Heero wasn't the only person I'd ever been with – but he was the best. And he knew. No one made me feel like he did.
And fuck. It might be over.
After my shower, I looked at my damn laptop, again, and in only a towel decided to sit and open up the programme the old coots had created for us all those damn years ago. I mean, Heero had tinkered and made it an impenetrable fortress of unbreakable code but it still showed an error next to where the 01 was and fuck, there was no point, I knew that, but I still found myself typing.
/I fucked up./
Naw, I deleted it. Hell, I knew I had but it wasn't an apology. Yeah, it admitted I was a dick but not enough. Damn well not enough. Take the blame – the responsibility – be the man I want to be and not the idiot who hurts the one he loves.
I started again.
I miss you./
I looked at those words blinking on the screen as I typed and I thought, huh, be more honest Duo for fuck's sake.
I deleted. Reworded.
/'Ro I can't sleep without you. I don't know what I'm doing here without you. Fuck, get in touch, babe. I miss you./
I looked at it – clicked send and saw it drift off into cyber space – my heart through Wi-Fi or something. My body damn near sagged into the chair and I stared at the "error" next to 01 until I realised I needed clothes and to go to work.
Preventer coulda docked my pay and I wouldn't have blamed them for the amount of work I'd done. Instead the last few days had been about the amount of times I'd checked my cell, the amount of times I looked at my own laptop to see if 'Ro messaged me and checked all my email accounts and fuck all. Work could kiss my ass. It was only preliminary mission shit – it could wait.
And yeah, maybe not the best approach but really, I never thought I'd be this screwed up over him walking out. Maybe because I just never thought he'd do it. He was the one always coming for me and saving my ass – not the other way round.
It got to the afternoon, I'd drank my body weight in coffee and eaten nothing beyond a candy bar one of the admin chicks gave me when she delivered some memo, pitying me for some reason – shit I must've been really pathetic if it was on the office grapevine – and that's when I checked the old channel. No "error" next to the 01 and I clicked, heart beating hard, palms sweaty, feeling like I was waiting for a crush to message back like some giddy awkward teenager. Shit, totally not me – I was the cocky asshole who kissed Heero and started this, I was the one who guided it and made it what it was. And now I felt like – what if 'Ro decided I wasn't worth it, you know? That all my bullshit was not what he needed. That thought was more depressing than I wanted to deal with so I sucked it up as the message appeared.
Location: First date.
It was to the point, which of course was totally Heero, and it was devoid of emotion – okay as devoid of emotion as the short words were and I was projecting and interpreting. Never said I ain't fucked up.
I looked at the clock at the edge of the screen.
"God-fucking-damn-it," I swore and it all ran together into some crazy long ass word as I grabbed my jacket knowing I didn't have much time.
Heero was a stickler for punctuality. Yeah, I'd learnt ways to make us late – late for work, late for functions, late for so many damn things by breaking down his defences and making him putty in my hands – but today he'd be on time. And I'd be late. Fucking balls.
I had fifteen minutes to get to the park – fifteen minutes to find the statue of some long forgotten war and the bench we'd sat on and talked and tried to work through how we'd work as a couple. Of course, we'd already done the banging each other's brains out thing but that – that was the location of our first actual date.
Hey, I'm not exactly Mr. Romance or Mr. Cheesy-Ass-Chick-Movie-Proclamations-of-Love but I didn't consider being jerked off by him then me blowing him in a toilet stall as our first date. I have some class.
So I ran. I kinda worried about the people on the city streets seeing some crazy dude with a braid running past in a Preventer uniform. I didn't care. Gotta get to him before he gave up on him.
There were a few things I realised running like hell through the streets of Brussels. One – I need to up my cardio routine and do less weights. Two – I also needed to get Sally to look at my old ankle injury from when an OZ dickwad stomped on it. And three – I didn't want my life to be without Heero. Not ever.
It was all in my head as I got to the park, not bothering to glance at my watch as I ran through the gateway and to the statue that sat at the centre. It was a windy day, the leaves being picked up by the breeze, and I just ignored it all until I arrived at the bench.
The empty bench.
I checked my watch. 15:51 the electronic super snazzy techy watch Heero had bought me said.
And I wheezed a little, leaned over, my hands on my thighs as I realised I was not worth six minutes.
I felt sick and I blamed the lack of food and the run rather than the shit awful reality. Heero left me. Like everyone did. Fuck.
I turned, musta looked like utter shit and there he was looking unbelievably perfect, grey wool coat that was a lot more sensible than my uniform and thin jacket. I shivered as the sweat began to dry and my instinct was to damn pounce on him and kiss him and run my fingers through his hair. But I didn't. This could be breaking up and though I'd done this to other people, no one had done it to me and I thought it cruel and unusual for it to be done here. Where it all started properly.
Yet I didn't feel angry as I looked at him. Not at all. And shit, I don't even really remember what we were fighting about.
And if it mattered.
"Look, 'Ro, I'm sorry, okay? I get that you needed a break and whatever –"
He stepped forward and gave me a glare that made me shut my mouth. Only person who can do that.
"You said you were sick of seeing my face," he said softly, his eyes distant. "You quantified it by saying that I was a self-righteous prick that you didn't want to have to see for the next few days. I did what you asked."
I think my jaw dropped a little. Hell, I had said that. I just didn't expect him to take it so damn literally. "I didn't mean it – total in the heat of the moment shit. You know that, right?"
"You've said it before. Or words to that effect."
"Shit, babe... You know me," I said, stepping closer, reaching out tentatively for his arm and as he didn't snatch it back, I pressed onward. "Mouth moving before brain engaged stuff – especially when I'm pissed."
"You sounded like you meant it."
I sighed. "Maybe I did at the time but once I cooled down... Fuck, I haven't slept or ate in three days and that's saying something, babe."
A small smile crossed his face and he snorted. "Yeah."
"And damn... Here I go and all, but you are the most irritating, pig-headed asshole to live with. Towels do not need to be folded exactly the same way. It's okay if the mug handles face different ways. The bed doesn't have to be made with me still in it. And shit... We don't have to do specific things each night of the week – like variety and change is good sometimes, 'Ro."
His face had just turned into a scowl and I grabbed him, pulled him close and ran my tongue over his lips, making him breathe out in shock and then I kissed him, my tongue sliding in, one hand in his hair, the other on his face. He reacted, if a little reluctantly, and I smiled as I drew back.
"You are also my best friend, my motherfucking bad ass partner in the field, the best kiss and fuck I've ever had. I goddamn love you and I never mean half the shit I say, okay?"
He nodded and leaned in to kiss me but I stopped him, let our foreheads touch so I could feel his breath ghosting over me and I sighed.
"You saved me, 'Ro – every damn time."
I let him kiss me then, felt him move the sweaty bits of my fucking braid that had stuck to my face and when we separated I felt far too hot and a little too horny. I smirked as I felt he was too – his body pressed tight against mine. I reached up, twirled a strand of his hair around my finger and looked deep in his eyes.
"It's always you, Heero Yuy. No one does it better."