Variations on a Theme: Reaching Out
a Gundam W fanfiction
by Nikholas "Katana" F. Toledo

����� Here I am again, the "Kissing Author" is here and right now she's
got lemon meringue pie splattered all over her face.� I fear I won't be
able to get into a flame-proof suit fast enough, so can you guys just
toss citrus fruits at me or something?

����� Plain to see, I lost my "virginity" here, just as Heero did (made
him step out of character in a major way, too).� Forgive me for the
title, too... you might notice that the phrase occurs in almost every
section of the narration, plus it was either that or something way
cheezier, like "The Rehabilitation of Heero Yuy" or "Heero Yuy's Sense of
Touch"... yikes!� Cringe alert!

����� The medicine types can rail at me all they want for the unknown
injury that laid our Pilot #1 flat on his back.� Is there a sort of
fracture that breaks the skin open?

����� In any case, I hope you enjoy this half-baked attempt.� Reactions
and everything else to the usual places.

����� Copyright of Sunrise, people!

����������������������������� ~ end notes ~

����� He was breathing heavily and unevenly as he let go of Wing's
controls and slumped tiredly into his seat, his hands limp and lifeless
on the armrests.� Outside, in the vast silent void of space, mobile-suit
remains drifted by like so much rubble, remnants of the Taurus-class
robots that had been sent to kill the five of them.

����� "Battle's over, Heero... let's go home."

����� Heero Yuy looked up at his screens and saw an unusually subdued Duo
Maxwell there, and he watched with one eyebrow lifted as the normally
jocose American passed his own hand over weary, tear-stained violet eyes.
<What ails you?� I am here,> he thought at the image.

����� He had the sudden urge to reach out, to try to comfort the other
pilot.� Just as his hand was halfway to the screen, though, the contact
was broken, and he looked out his window just in time to see Shinigami
fire up its engines and head Earth-ward, followed by Heavyarms, Sandrock
and Nataku.

����� The hand withdrew of its own accord and, for a long moment, he
remained there in space, looking at it as it lay in his lap.

��������������������������������� ~ * ~

����� The heat of the battle had been its own intense high.� It was only
when he dropped down onto the ground and felt a sudden pain lance through
his entire body that he found out he'd been wounded.

����� Blood was running in streams down his right arm, all from a gash
that had opened up along his shoulder.� His knees buckled from under him
and he sank to the ground, eyes wide and staring.

����� "Holy shit, Heero," Duo muttered fiercely at him as he knelt and
tore at his own sleeve, wadding up the rags and packing them firmly
against the open wound.� "You stupid jackass, why couldn't you have been
more careful?� You could've killed yourself!"

����� The Japanese pilot sensed an undercurrent in the scolding voice,
though, and he racked his brains trying to identify it.� <He isn't angry
or irritated at me, so what is that I heard?� He can't be concerned about
me --- he only cares about himself, and his stupid, worthless dreams.>

����� <Liar.� His dreams are yours, too.� He *is* concerned for you and
you had better believe it.>

����� Trowa Barton and Quatre Raberba-Winner pushed him down onto his
back in the grass and the blonde Arabian began to patch him up properly,
saying before he opened his first-aid kit, "This is going to hurt, so
someone had better restrain him...."� He and his lover, the ex-acrobat,
exchanged looks when Duo reached out to enclose Heero's free hand in both
of his own, but neither was really surprised.

����� Fire licked along his shoulders as Quatre applied the medicine.
His face contorted into a grimace and he turned his head away, biting
down on his lower lip, hard enough to draw blood there as well.� His hand
closed down convulsively around Duo's, making the American pilot wince as
well, and not only in sympathy.

��������������������������������� ~ * ~

����� Lucrezia Noin prescribed bed-rest for the injured shoulder, fearing
he might have sprained it, so Heero found himself flat on his back and
between sheets for the next few weeks.� His envy at the other pilots'
relative freedom paled beside the brooding silences that he fell into
every so often, but even those silences came few and far between compared
to the strange, drifting dreams that he was beginning to get almost every
night.

����� <Always it is the same thing,> he thought as he stared up into the
midnight darkness, his chest heaving and sweaty, his knuckles a
frightening white where they gripped the sheets.� <Duo leaving or
defecting to the enemy... or dying...>� He shuddered in the balmy heat of
summer, willing himself to forget it but failing utterly.� <Why am I so
afraid of the idea that he might leave me- leave us?>

����� He was surprised at his mental slip.� But he quickly shook it away,
and unclenched his fists.� <I could care less... I am a soldier, a mobile
suit pilot, and I live only for my missions.� Whether I have a companion
or not doesn't and cannot matter at all --- I should not trust even those
who dare come near me, whether they be friend or foe.� They can and might
betray me at any minute, any one of them: Relena, Dorothy, Noin, Zechs,
Wufei, Quatre, Trowa... and Duo....>

����� "I don't need you," he told the single violet-eyed face that
hovered before his mind's eye, testing the words against the reality that
the dreams were forcing on him.

����� "I don't," he said again, a little louder this time, but to his
ears it sounded like a lie, hollow and without any strength.

����� "I... I do," and he shut his eyes and began to cry softly in the
darkness.

��������������������������������� ~ * ~

����� "Here, let's try this."

����� It had been a long and painfully slow two weeks in convalescence
for Heero and, for the first time, Duo, who had appointed himself to
nurse duty, had allowed him to sit up in bed.� Right now, the long-haired
boy was slowly hyper-extending the injured shoulder, pushing his arm and
elbow steadily over his head.� "That hurt?"

����� "No."� The blank, emotionless face and laconic reply hid it very
well --- the young man was feeling strangely happy, as if he were a
stripling again, but it wasn't because tomorrow he was finally going to
be allowed out of doors if he passed this test....

����� <I don't know how it is that you affect me in this way, Duo
Maxwell,> he tried to think at the boy beside him, <how it is that you
got under my skin so easily.� But I cannot fight it any longer...>

����� It was getting warmer... Heero felt himself being lowered back onto
the sheets, and he looked up into troubled violet eyes, a question in his
own.� His soul was screaming with frustration, unwilling to let the other
leave and break the fragile contact between them as the contact out in
space after the battle had been, so casually and easily.

����� "Your lips are white," Duo whispered, and the prone youth watched
in silent amazement as two great tears spilled over his eyelashes.� They
dropped onto his lips, and he licked at them, tasting bitter salt.� "I'm
sorry... I shouldn't have forced you.� You should have told me, Heero...
you aren't well yet.� Please forgive me."

����� He tore his gaze away and stood up, walking quickly to the door,
not daring to look back and face the question in those strangely hypnotic
ice-blue eyes.

����� "I'll call for the doctor," he muttered, half to himself.

����� "DON'T LEAVE ME HERE!"

����� Heero could hardly believe himself as his voice cracked throughout
the room like a shot.� "Please, Duo," he said softly, so softly he didn't
know if the other, frozen where he stood in the darkness with one hand on
the doorknob, could hear him, "*stay with me.*"

��������������������������������� ~ * ~

����� One hand curved around Duo's neck and brought those lips down to
his own yearning ones, welcoming the heat that surged through his body as
they kissed for the first time.� Stars exploded in front of his eyes as
they slid shut, feelings raced faster than light across his nerve
endings, desire spread through his body as he pulled the other boy down
onto the bed with him.

����� Suddenly, he found himself staring into a startled Duo's eyes once
again.� Uncertainty and doubt whirled in them, but beyond... beyond,
Heero could see the same desire there that was swelling hotly in his
soul, swaying in banked flames of blue and violet, the only source of
light in the room to him.

����� "Heero," a quaking voice asked him, "is this for real?� Tell me I'm
not dreaming, tell me I'm not asleep, tell me you just kissed me for
real..."

����� He felt a smile --- a real one, without rancor or sarcasm --- raise
the corners of his mouth, just a split second before Duo's lips caught
hungrily at his, craving the intimacy of the contact as a tongue slid
into his mouth.� Hands pulled the sheets away from his body and he
shuddered, tensing up in spite of himself, as the same hands gently
insinuated themselves under the ridiculously oversized nightshirt that
they'd forced him into at the start of his recovery period.

����� "Relax, Heero," Duo murmured, smiling against the sweet mouth that
he had wanted to taste for so long.� "Trust me, I know what I'm doing."

����� It was hard for him to hold himself back, but he fought his own
desire and began a long, leisurely exploration of Heero's body, tracing
the planes of his chest with eager yet gentle hands, slowly drifting
lower and lower.

����� Not wanting to be outdone, the Japanese boy reached out, fumbling
with the buttons on the other's shirt, tugging with all his might and
finally managing to work the black garment off.� He still had the white
undershirt to deal with, though, and for a long second he lay there with
his hands at Duo's shoulders, wondering how he was going to get it off.

����� This time the American had to laugh out loud, and he brushed his
lips quickly on Heero's before casually pulling the sleeveless
undergarment over his head.� That done, he lay down on the bed as well,
grinning wickedly, daring the other to touch him as he had been touched.

����� Desire finally won out over fear and Heero ran his hands
experimentally down Duo's body, stopping where the nipples hardened at
his touch.� He listened to the sharp intake of breath that he had caused
and in the next moment the same sly smile touched his lips, just before
he bent his head to tongue one lightly.

����� "Aaahh!"� Duo's back arched and his hands fisted themselves in
Heero's thick and unruly hair, desire and longing screaming throughout
his entire being.� His breathing became uneven, shallow; his heartbeat
was racing under the other's mouth; his soul cried out for union even as
his body cried out for release.

����� Heero didn't know what was driving him onward and relentlessly
onward, the sensations were all so terrifyingly new and completely
unfamiliar to him, and for a long moment he just lay there with his head
on Duo's chest, his frantic pulse drowning out even the driving heartbeat
under his ear.

����� "Heero... please..."

����� He looked up and into Duo's eyes, glazed over with the passion and
the longing that he knew were raging clearly in his own.� And his hands
moved again, as if of their own accord, and slid the other's pants and
underwear away, readying himself for what was to come...

����� Suddenly Duo's hands were everywhere --- drawing him closer,
sending his nightshirt flying clear across the room --- and wherever they
touched him a new fire sprang up until he felt that he was slowly being
consumed by his lover's ruthless white heat, merciless in its torment.

����� The long-haired boy parted Heero's legs gently and thrust himself
in, causing a cry to break from his lips, a cry of mixed pleasure and
pain.

����� "Hold on, Heero," he gritted, his voice little more than a husky
rasp, "hold on, I'm here!"

����� Another penetration crashed through Heero's body and he caught his
breath.� Now that the initial shock had passed, he wanted nothing more
than to join with Duo in this way.� He wound his legs tighter around the
other's waist and held on tightly as he slowly pulled out, and then was
sucked back in, then out again, over and over...

����� Something exploded in both of them at the same moment and they fell
away from each other, Duo gasping as he dropped onto the sheets.� With
some difficulty, he pulled himself back to the pillows and reached out to
caress the other boy's cheek.

����� "You asked for it, you know," he said in a conversational voice,
wrapping his arms lightly around him.

����� A fleeting smile crossed Heero's features at Duo's tones.� "So I
did, tonight," he returned in the same joking vein as he settled himself
within the protective circle.� "And next time it will be your turn.� I
don't think I will ever tire of you."

����� "I won't, that's for sure."� But inside, something was missing for
the sensitive American: Heero hadn't said those words yet, and briefly he
wondered if things were just going to be like this, a purely physical
relationship based on mutual lust and attraction.

����� He shook the disturbing thought away and sighed softly, drawing
Heero closer again.� <Better this way than anything else, but it'd be
better if he'd only say it.� Then again, who am I to wish for something
that isn't for me...?>

����� A flash of comprehension lit up the keen eyes that had seen every
movement, and there was no trace of falsehood in them as Heero looked up,
kissed him on the lips and said in a clear whisper, "Aishiteru, Duo.� I
always have.� And I always will."

����� Taken aback by the vehemence of the statement, it was a long moment
before the tears of joy began to course down Duo's cheeks.

����� "I love you, too, Heero," he said simply through the sobs,
returning the kiss and deepening it.� "I'm yours."

������������������������������ ~ the end ~



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