disclaimer: right, no own.

pairings: 1x2, 3x4, 5xM
genre: AU
warning: a weeeeee bit of angst.

Part 13
by 0083

- The Twelfth Encounter -

I never did believe the stupid premise that love made everything all right. Why do I say this now? Perhaps it is because my work is suffering just a bit due to the suddenness and frequency in which Heero enters my thoughts. It might be that I am turning my self-admission of love over and over in my head, trying to view it from every angle to see if I had it right. It could even be that I cannot seem to think of Heero without the accompanying head rush.

The kiss had done it. It had turned me from a well functioning, exceptional specimen of the society to a spacey, day dreaming idiot. At random times, the kiss would come alive in my head again and I end up relieving every single moment of it until I realize where I am. Usually, I am alone in my office, buried to my nose in papers and documents, but that one time, when I actually blanked out during an opening argument with a jury staring back at me expectantly, I knew I had to fix my problem.

Is it me or did I develop massive amounts of problems since I met Heero?

Friday, five days after the kiss, or rather, the kisses, I sat at my home in my boxers and undershirt, thinking about my newly developed problem. Love was one thing, but it should not be interfering with my work. Let’s face it, there are innumerable amount of people in this world who are in love or in the process of falling in love and I’m sure they do not make a complete moron out of themselves at work.

What was so unique about my experience that I have become the spacey ranger? My only excuse is that this is the first time in my life that I could admit that I might love someone. I am not quite at the ‘I am absolutely, positively, fantastically in love’ stage yet, but the rate it is going, I may get there before I know it. What will I do when my feelings get deeper and stronger? Fall into a coma?

First love. I finally found that elusive rite of passage that everyone else seemed to have passed earlier in their lives. I can finally understand why Quatre had always been so damned giddy when he and Trowa started being together. I can comprehend the strange, dancing lights in Trowa’s eyes whenever he happens to have Quatre in his field of vision. But hell, neither of them act the fool like I am doing right now.

So, whatever am I doing on a Friday night, at my home, dressed in nothing but skivvies? I haven’t invited Heero over to join me, I haven’t called my friends to go out, and I haven’t made any plans for the evening. I was entwined within my thoughts, trying to get my brain back to normal before Monday so that I could work without mental faltering.

Thankfully, my vicious circular thinking was interrupted by my phone.


I know who it is on the other end, but I try to sound uninterested. It is a game I have to keep myself on edge, I think.

“Duo, what are you doing inside on a Friday night?”

“Good question.”

Honestly, I could not say ‘I’m at home, devising ways to make my brain forget Heero while I am at work.’ That would sound as if I should become a friendly member of the local mental asylum. Perhaps not so extreme, but at least an out-patient.

“Are you coming out with us?”

I suppose I haven’t really talked or hung out with my friends during the week. I had been overly immersed with my and Heero’s newfound way of expressing our relationship. The thing is, I had always berated those who put their friends on the wayside for the sake of a new relationship, always belittling their attention span and devotion to their friends.

God forbid I turn into one of those.

“Sure, Quat. Name the place and I’ll be there in half an hour.”

In actuality, it took me slightly longer than half an hour to get to the bar of choice due to my inattention. I failed to notice that I had walked out into the parking garage where my car was without any pants on until the breeze hit my bare legs. Now, how did I not notice my lack of pants? I blame it on Heero and his kisses.

The bar was fairly packed which was not surprising since it was Friday, but it was not hard to pinpoint my friends. They tend to stand out, being so very attractive and all. Or maybe it was that Wufei was standing on the table where everyone else was seated, blaring out.. a song?

I quickly made my way over to my friends who had the attention of almost every single person at the bar. I could not believe my eyes for Wufei is a reserved man in public most of the times. He didn’t even sing karaoke on open mike nights.

“What the hell is this?”

That was all I could say as I watched Wufei belt out yet another incomprehensible line of a song. It seemed almost as if he did not know the words and was just wading through it by mumbling.

“Oh, just an apology,” Quatre answered, his face a delightful picture of repressed humor, “for telling Meiran that she looked interesting in her skirt.”

“I take it then that interesting was not a good word?”

“Not at all,” Meiran fumed, “it practically implied that I looked fat.”

Right. For the nth time in my life, I have to wonder what it was about women and their perceived weight problems. I am quite certain that when Wufei had said interesting, he had most likely meant it in a flattering way, but women have some strange organ in their brain that translated most adjectives used to describe them as ‘fat’. I hoped that Wufei would find that organ and crush it beneath a large sledge hammer.

Soon enough, Wufei was done and he hopped down from the table gracefully. He took a sit next to Meiran who looked moderately flattered.

“Satisfied, woman?” Wufei seethed.


My curiosity was eating me alive at this point. I just had to ask.

“So, you sang her an apology?”

Perhaps I sounded a bit too much like I was trying not to laugh, but I could not help it.

“Yes,” Wufei said glaring at my general direction, “because she said a mere apology wouldn’t cut it. So I sang it. Now, drop it or I drop you.”

Well, was it me or was a certain someone a bit too grumpy tonight? This is what I get for being late, I miss all the fun and only catch the ire at the end.

“So,” Quatre said hastily, “have you and Heero gotten anywhere yet?”

I take a moment of silence here to mourn Quatre for I am about to strangle him.

“Yes,” Trowa said almost immediately, “you were having a crisis.”

“A crisis,” Wufei jumped in, his eyes glinting with vengeance, “in the Maxwell camp? My, whatever do you mean?”

“Who’s Heero?” Leave it to Meiran to ask a question that would lead to an extra long, convoluted history of my current love life.

Hence, it was at this lovely gathering of friends that I finally confessed to Wufei and Meiran just who I had been dating for the last few weeks. First, I think I may have given Wufei a brain aneurysm for he could not fathom how I had ended up in a relationship with a man. Second, after sufficient recovery time, Wufei yelled at me rather indignantly for keeping such a big, life changing event to myself. Third, I was showered with congratulations for breaking the physical barrier with Heero.

“So,” Quatre said lazily, “I suppose you don’t have problems with Heero anymore in that department.”

“All solved, no thanks to you. You were mean, remember?”

“You called at four in the morning. You’re lucky he didn’t jump through the phone and kill you.”

Trowa must have been pissed still for my untimely call, but friends are supposed to suffer with their fellow friends, are they not?

Surprisingly, it would fall upon Meiran to make the conversation damned awkward for me and amusing for others.

“Have you had sex with him yet?”

A few things that I must point out while I’m trying to stuff my eyes back into their sockets: Meiran is a delicate looking girl, small and feminine. I did not ever anticipate her asking me questions so bold and brash that I would end up choking on my drink. Also, I have known Meiran for a couple of months at the most by now, ever since she married Wufei. We are not the closest of friends nor do we share a special bond of any sort. So it is not wrong to be taken aback by that question.

“It is not your business to know!”

I have not sounded that squeaky since my fourteenth year of life when puberty hit me hard and my voice paid the price by running away to soprano land.

“But it’s a good question,” Wufei rolled right along, “and since when have you been shy about talking about sex?”

That is an undisputable point. I am not shy about sex. In fact, I have been known to talk about that oft celebrated topic in crude terms in loud voices. I have made all of these guys blush innumerable amount of times in the past with my thoughts on sex.

Therefore, it is completely daft of me to blush when they ask me about my sex life. However, I cannot seem to stop that rush of blood along my cheeks, flushing me to the roots of my hair.

“I am not shy,” I groused out through clenched teeth, “and no, we have not had sex yet. Happy?”

“Oh, we’re ecstatic,” Quatre said almost too nonchalantly, “but you aren’t, I bet. What is keeping you from getting laid?”

“Wait, wait, have you even gotten to first base?”

I throw an incredulous look at Quatre and Meiran because the conversation is getting out of hand. I concede that it is normal for friends to grill another friend on the state of their love life, it is a tradition that has been with human society for as long as there has been speech. Yet, I cannot help but feel as if I should not answer, as if what I did with Heero was too personal even for my best of friends.

“First base?” Wufei jumped in condescendingly, “what, are we in high school again? And just what is first base? Everyone has a different definition.”

Thankfully, the conversation changed course from that point, everyone inputting as to their own private definition of first base and so on. Apparently, girls have a different version of the whole baseball analogy from the guys. But then again, why wouldn’t they for they are creatures that defy comprehension and logic?

When the night comes to an end, we all say our respective good byes and I get good natured ribbing from my friends for not having had sex for nearly two months. I take it well, throw back some taunts from my arsenal and go home to sleep.

Sleep, as good as that sounds, did not come easily because I kept thinking about Heero and what he was doing at that point in time. Moreover, when sleep did finally come, it was plagued with dreams about Heero.

Can’t I stop thinking about him just for one, solitary moment so I can have some normalcy in my life?

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of my phone ringing. Usually, when a phone wakes me up, I tend to just turn the ringer off so that I can sleep in peacefully. However, this time, the caller I.D. showed that it was Heero and as much as I wanted to, I could not let it go. The situation is getting worse.

“What’s up, Heero.”

I cannot help the dreary tone of my voice. I am not a morning person, especially on a Saturday after I spent the night before drinking.

“Duo, you sound horrible. Fun night?”

He sounds damned amused at my pain. Is that how your boyfriend is supposed to treat you when you are not feeling your best?

“Oh, yeah, a blast. My friends made fun of me the whole night.”

That is a definite exaggeration, but I had felt a bit persecuted last night so I believe I am entitled to a bit of hyperbole.

“Good friends will do that,” Heero chuckles out, “and I missed you last night.”

Grounding point number one: if my erratic thought behavior is any indication, I missed him last night too. Grounding point number two: no way in hell I’m going to admit that I’ve become dependent on his presence for I am an independent male of good means who need no other to complete him. Grounding point number three: the situation, as they say in the military, has gone to Def-Con 3.

“Heero, I saw you Thursday. Remember?”

“I know,” he replies with a hint of warmth, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t miss you when I don’t see you.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I continue, determined to see this through, “you can’t miss me unless it has been a week, at least. Those are the unwritten rules, pal.”

“I never did like rules,” Heero banters back, “so I can do what I wish.”

I feel so frustrated. Does he not see what I’m trying to say, that it is completely unreasonable that we miss each other because we didn’t see the other for one day? It is not normal for people to do that, for me to feel that.

“Look, Heero,” I reply, hoping that I could get my point across, “we see each other practically every day. There is no reason for you to miss me for a one day absence, okay?”

I can actually sense the frown and the slight disappointment coming through the phone line, but damn it all, we were getting unhealthy. People do not need to see each other every day to feel like the world is right.

I certainly didn’t need it, right? After all, I’m trying to clear some room in my brain so that I can lead a marginally normal life. I am desperately trying to stop thinking about Heero so that I can work again.

“I apologize,” Heero says a bit stiltedly, “for missing you. I won’t do it again unless a week has passed.”

Damn. I probably hurt him. Again.

“Shit,” I swear, feeling like a jackass, “I didn’t mean to say anything to make you feel bad, Heero. It’s just that.. um, I’ll be busy next week so I won’t be able to see you until next weekend so I was trying to say..”

For an attorney who can convince twelve people he’s never met that the slimeball next to me is innocent, I’m doing a piss poor job of convincing the man I’m seeing that I didn’t mean to hurt him.

“It’s okay, Duo. I’ll just see you for lunch on Monday? I’ll come by your office.”

That is where I hit the brakes full on and say something that I probably shouldn’t have.

“No, don’t do that. People at my office will see you.”

How many ways can one person interpret that sentence? I bet there are many different ways, but I also bet that each interpretation is not a pleasant one.

How can I tell? The fact that there is a dead silence lingering on the phone.

“I mean,” I try to amend, “not that I mind people seeing you there, I’m sure they have already, but I think people are talking about us, you know? The gossip mill is on full tilt and it’s a bitch.”

Just what am I trying to do? I don’t exactly know. My dilemma is that I cannot stop thinking about Heero at all. I was supposed to solve that dilemma by working hard and pushing him out of my head. Yet, Heero had brought up yet another thing that had been on my radar lately, that I don’t want people at work to talk about us, or maybe even know about us. Granted, the work problem did not come to my full attention until he suggested he show up at my office in broad daylight with my bosses, associates and secretaries around, but it’s a valid problem nonetheless.

I work at a law firm. Get the picture?

Heero certainly did. And I think the frost that accompanied his reply froze me solid.

“I understand, Duo.”

Three short words and then click. He hung up.

on to part 14

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