Gundam Wing/AC Guess I'm Into Feeling

Title: Guess I'm Into Feeling

Author: Vuli

Rating: R

Summary: The relationship between Heero and Wufei starts to grow complicated. Sequel to Blues Away. 

Pairing: 1x5. Background 2+4.

Warnings: Yaoi. Lime bordering on lemon, hence the rating. And an unhealthy amount of sap. ^_^

Disclaimer: I'm a player, not a keeper. Gundam Wing belongs to SOTSU, Sunrise and Bandai.

Archive: Help yourselves, just drop me a line!

Feedback: raichuelectric@hotmail.com; feel free to email me with your comments, or even random 1x5 ramblings.

Author's Note: The title comes from the Erasure song of the same name (as did Blues Away). Just a little appreciation for one of the greatest inspiring forces in my life.

**Thanks to all who reviewed Blues Away! Hope you guys enjoy this one too.**

**Dedicated to Erynna, to commiserate the passing of her website into the great cyberspace beyond.**

**Guess I'm Into Feeling**

A scant few minutes to midnight saw a gibbous moon riding high in the night sky, untouched by cloud, casting harsh bleached light through the window Heero stood in front of…the same spot where he had relinquished his perfect façade more than a week ago. Clad only in briefs, he stared up at the moon with a blank gaze. His arms hung limply at his sides, and there was a noticeable bow in his shoulders from bone-weariness. 

It seemed he had been constantly on the move the last two days, from the moment he departed for the latest mission to landing Wing after a gruelling eight-hour flight, but there was a dizzying sense of inertia now that the adrenaline and mental focus had faded. It did feel good to be home, though. And it _was_ home, at least for a while – perhaps not what most people thought of as conventional, and certainly not a stable lifestyle. But you needed more than a house to make a "home".

_Home is where the heart is. _In the silence that had descended on the sleeping house, he permitted himself a soft laugh at his own sentimentality, and the life returned to his eyes. 

Usually, he would have laid over in some isolated location to rest before attempting to fly back once he had completed a mission. His mind – and his heart – had commanded otherwise. Without a target to occupy him, it hadn't taken him long to realise that he missed Wufei…and with such intensity that it startled him.

How could just a couple of days make so much difference to his attitude? He didn't have the experience to answer that question. Perhaps it was infatuation, a subject which he had heard Quatre discussing with Duo one lazy afternoon.

Sighing, Heero scratched his fingers through his hair, still slightly damp to the touch from the quick shower he had taken after getting back. He could feel his shoulder protest, the dull pain echoed in his lower back, both bruises that had been sustained during a bad collision with an OZ mobile suit.

_No point standing out here all night_, he thought, turning away from the window and taking the few short steps across the corridor to the bedroom door. Somewhere in the house, an old-fashioned clock chimed twelve, and Heero paused to listen before letting himself in.

---------------------------

The mattress dipped with the faintest of creaks, accepting the weight of the midnight visitor with little complaint, and Wufei stirred as he felt a warm body settle beside him, curling slightly against his back. "You got back half an hour ago," he whispered at last, his small smile lost in the darkness of the room. "I thought you weren't coming."

An arm coiled around his waist in answer. "Sorry I'm late," Heero murmured drowsily, pressing soft kisses to Wufei's exposed shoulder blade, while his hand wandered up to trace the bandage that had been taped around the other pilot's injured ribs. "Forgive me?" There was an unmistakable note of humour in his voice, and Wufei caught his hand, bringing it to his mouth and nipping the fingertips.

"Perhaps," he teased, rewarded with an amused snort from Heero. "Just don't let it happen again."

Heero's hand escaped his grip and grasped his chin, turning his head; cobalt eyes smiled down at him in the gloom. "Yes, sir," the Japanese teen retorted, then leaned over and kissed him.

With a quiet moan, Wufei shifted onto his back and Heero rolled onto elbows and knees above him, the cover sliding off and pooling beside them as his hands sank into Wufei's loose hair and smoothed it away from his face in repetitive, caressing movements, dipping his head to steal light, fleeting kisses. Savouring the gentle touch, Wufei closed his eyes and sighed, lying still and compliant beneath Heero. Gods, it felt so good to surrender…

Despite himself, he found he couldn't remain motionless for long; his head lifted from the pillow to respond to the maddening touch of Heero's lips, while his fingers curled around the nape of the other boy's neck and urged him downward. Heero relented with a grunt and settled himself carefully atop Wufei, mindful of his bandaged ribs as he took his weight on his elbows, rubbing his lower body slowly and purposefully against his companion.

A low gasp escaping him, Wufei looked up at Heero's shadowed face with wide eyes, feeling his back arch through no will of his own. Their relationship, such as it was, had been fairly chaste up until this point, but there was no denying his arousal now as he reacted to Heero's movements, kissing him eagerly while he bent his legs to hook his feet around the other teen's thighs. 

Perhaps the lengthy separation was responsible for the spirited passion that surfaced inside him, urging him to press Heero closer, to intensify the contact between their bodies…at that moment, he really didn't care. Nor did it matter that neither of them were entirely naked – the pleasure of Heero's weight moving against him was more than enough, the force of his kiss pushing Wufei deeply into the pillow as they rocked together. Almost unconsciously, he lifted his hips, spurring Heero to a slightly faster pace, their kisses growing frenzied with need. 

It took little more than a few minutes for both to reach release, climaxing within moments of each other; Wufei's head tossed back with a sharp cry, his hands clutching fistfuls of pillow, while Heero muffled his groan in the curve between Wufei's neck and shoulder, then pressed his lips tenderly to the damp, heated skin he found there. His mind reeling, the Japanese pilot retained enough sense to roll aside before collapsing face-down next to Wufei, one leg twined between the black-haired boy's and an arm draped across his stomach, just below his ribs.

After a few seconds spent waiting for their breathing to slow, Heero stirred lazily. "Am I forgiven now?" he asked tiredly, a smile in his voice.

Wufei released a husky laugh. "Apology accepted," he intoned in mock-sincerity, feeling a snort against his shoulder. He was a little disappointed when Heero drew away and turned onto his back, but his regret quickly became bewilderment when the other teen began wriggling next to him. "What are you doing?"

"I have no intention of sleeping in damp underwear," Heero replied in all seriousness, accomplishing his task with a final tug and kicking said underwear aside.

Despite the activities of mere minutes before, Wufei was astonished to find himself blushing furiously at the thought of sharing a bed with a naked Heero. It was a prospect that, given the circumstances, shouldn't have bothered him…but it did, enormously so. 

His own physical discomfort making itself known, he scrambled none-too-subtly out of the bed and quickly stripped off his own shorts, then wavered uncertainly, balking at the notion of _both_ of them sleeping nude yet unable to explain his sudden skittishness. He was acutely aware of Heero's presence, visible in the room's dimness as no more than a dark shape sprawled against pale sheets.

_Don't be a fool!_ he chided himself. It was senseless to be embarrassed now. However, knowing that fact did nothing to ease his self-consciousness.

Apparently sensing his disquiet and the reason behind it, Heero rose onto an elbow; if he was affected by Wufei's aversion, there was no trace of it in his voice. "Perhaps I should go."

Wufei was moving before he had fully realised it, his apprehension forgotten in a quick flash of alarm, and he returned to his place at Heero's side. "No," he replied, kissing Heero swiftly, almost apologetically, before pushing the other teen down again and slumping into the pillow beside him, drawing the cover back over them. He didn't flinch when Heero rolled over onto his stomach and snuck a leg between his once more, trying to re-establish their previous closeness. 

"I missed you," Heero said softly, his hand reaching down to grasp Wufei's and squeezing slightly.

"I missed you too," Wufei whispered back as their fingers laced together loosely, weariness on the verge of overwhelming him. Impulsively, he turned onto his side and curled an arm down across Heero's back, stroking his hip…a silent affirmation that his earlier reluctance had nothing to do with regret. "Now get some sleep, Yuy."

Heero's face was half-buried in the pillow, muffling his drowsy response, but Wufei understood it nonetheless and just _knew_ Wing's pilot was smirking.

"Yes, sir."

---------------------------

It was with much chagrin that a groggy Duo Maxwell clomped up the stairs the following morning, muttering darkly and making no secret of his irritation. The last thing he needed was to be running around after tardy pilots, especially at the ungodly hour of – he checked his watch – eight a.m.! Quatre and Trowa had managed to get up on time; the two Asian youths had no excuse!

"If it'd been _Heero_'s turn to make breakfast and _I_ slept in, he'd let me starve or kick my ass from here to Lunar Base and back," he grumbled, swiping at a thick lock of hair that had escaped the sloppy mess he liked to call his 'bed-braid', a testament to his lack of coordination first thing in the morning.

Stalking down the hall, Duo lifted a fist to hammer on Heero's door, already voicing his impatience…then stopped dead when he found the door ajar. Heero _never_ left his door open, not even when he got up to take a piss in the middle of the night. The guy was paranoid about preserving his private space. Suddenly concerned, Duo poked his head cautiously into the room, steeling himself for an unpleasant discovery somewhere along the lines of Heero lying on the floor in a pool of blood.

The room was empty. Duo wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or even more worried. _Where the hell is he?_ he wondered, stepping inside and surveying the room with a critical eye. Judging from the wrinkle in one corner of the cover that Duo remembered leaving when he had changed the sheets in a fit of boredom-induced housekeeping, Heero hadn't slept in it, although there were telltale signs that he had been here at some point during the night. The dirty clothes strewn on the floor was one clue; the pack against one wall, still full of equipment, was another.

Duo retreated to the hall, thinking madly. If Heero was in the bathroom he should have heard him by now, and he was fairly certain that the Japanese pilot hadn't yet left the house. The only possibilities remaining were the two spare rooms, or… 

_No_, he thought incredulously, his eyes turning in the direction of Wufei's room and finding _that_ door most definitely shut. _They can't have gotten **that** intimate yet, surely? It's barely been two weeks…_

Duo crept along the hall and reached out to touch the door handle, testing it hesitantly. Unlocked. He paused for several moments, undecided, uncertain if he was ready to face whatever he might find inside, his conscience waging with the irresistible need to know. At least there were no betraying noises; the room beyond the cracked-ajar door seemed absolutely silent.

His curiosity getting the better of him, Duo pushed the door slightly farther open and peered inside, squinting in the dim light…and for an instant he could have sworn his heart stopped beating.

On the bed, cover rucked down to his waist, Wufei was lying on his back, hair loose and sprayed over the pillow, with Heero sprawled face down and half-way across him, one hand curled loosely on Wufei's bare chest. A beaming smile spread across the American's face, his irritation forgotten. Looked like they _had_ gotten that intimate; not really surprising, despite his earlier scepticism, when one considered the amount of pining Wufei had done during Heero's brief absence.

Suddenly feeling like an intruder, Duo slipped back out and pulled the door shut with a faint click. He was tempted to let them sleep, but that would only make Quatre and Trowa curious. Instead, he retreated to the top of the stairs and cleared his throat, unable to keep the grin on his face from reflecting in his voice.

"Heero! 'Fei!" he bellowed, planting his fists on his hips for effect. "If you guys aren't sitting at that table in five minutes you'll be making your own breakfast!" Satisfied, Duo trotted back down the stairs, whistling cheerfully to himself.

---------------------------

Ideally, Heero would have woken with the kind of slow, contented bliss that comes from knowing exactly where you are, and that you're safe being there. Indeed, the quiet stillness of the room and the warm sunlight spilling through the drawn curtains were a far cry from any indication of danger. 

But apparently that wasn't enough to circumvent his hair-trigger instincts, especially when they were set off by loud, unexpected noises. With a snatched breath through his nose, Heero thrust himself up to hands and knees, barely taking note of the bandaged flesh beneath his left palm. There was a weight lying across his calf – a leg, he realised – and he kicked away from it.

To his consternation, the leg kicked back none too gently, catching his hip and unbalancing him; he was knocked away completely when two hands shoved at his chest, and shortly found himself restrained to the bed by an unforgiving weight. Pain twinged through his shoulder and lower back, and he hissed softly.

"Are you done?" a voice growled above him.

The question helped to clear his mind and he quickly schooled his body into quiescence. "Yeah." He blinked his vision into focus, and was rewarded with the sight of Wufei leaning over him, hair hanging around his face, his nudity completely exposed as he straddled Heero's thighs. However, the other teen's expression was anything but gratifying.

"You should have told me you were hurt," Wufei rebuked harshly. "We could have waited –"

"It's nothing serious," Heero cut in, frowning up at him. "Besides, your injuries didn't hold you back." He shifted under the Chinese pilot's weight, then smiled very slightly. "This wasn't how I envisaged our first time waking up together," he said quietly, trying to lessen the tension between them.

Wufei let go of Heero's wrists, flushing as though only now remembering that they were both naked, save for the bandage around his chest. "Nor I," he sighed, glancing away. When his gaze returned, there was a gleam of humour in his eyes. "Although if I'd known how you would react to Maxwell's voice, I would have gagged him in his sleep." His ribs ached sharply from bearing Heero's weight and he patted at them gingerly.

To his surprise, Heero reached up and placed his hand over the bandage, rubbing gently with his palm. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I know." His heartbeat seemed to thunder in his ears at the caress, bringing colour to his cheeks, reminded yet again of his nakedness as Heero's fingers touched bare skin.

Heero paused, absorbing his reaction, then slid his hand downward, smoothing across the outlines of Wufei's abdominal muscles, tracing the only definition on an otherwise flat stomach. Before Wufei could wonder just how far the rumpled-haired pilot was going to go, Heero rolled onto his side, tumbling his startled comrade onto the bed beside him.

"Shall we get up?" he asked, deadpan, propped on one elbow and unabashed by the deliberately enticing posture he had assumed.

Refusing to be lured, Wufei slipped silently from the bed, pulled open the wardrobe and began to dress, pointedly ignoring the protests from his groin. The reawakened pain in his ribs was a little harder to dismiss, but he managed to keep it in check. In the process of buttoning the torso-hugging shirt he had chosen, he heard Heero call his name and tried to look impassive as he glanced over his shoulder. He wasn't prepared for the sobriety in the other teen's eyes when he found Yuy watching him, now sprawled on his back with his head nestled against the pillow.

"Thank you…for last night," Heero said, his voice unusually soft.

Wufei felt his mouth go dry, breath catching somewhere short of his lungs as he struggled to reconcile this coy, tender creature in his bed with the bold teenager of mere moments before.

Apparently not waiting for a response, Heero stretched carefully and sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress, allowing Wufei to see the bruise that had flowered across the small of his back. So Heero hadn't underplayed his injuries after all; the bruise was already yellowing, serious enough to cause discomfort but no real pain.

His eyes followed the line of Heero's back without conscious thought, down to the cleft of his backside, the curve of his buttocks... Biting his lip, Wufei forced himself to turn away and finish buttoning his shirt. _Time enough for that later_, he resolved firmly while he drew on a pair of loose pants. He heard movement but didn't investigate, despite his immediate curiosity and the over-insistent desire to savour the Japanese pilot's naked form for as long as he could.

It didn't surprise him when Heero came to stand behind him, a warm presence at his back. What caught him off guard, however, was the feel of efficient fingers combing briskly through his hair, and he was hard pressed not to jerk away. In three strokes, Yuy had gathered the long strands into one hand and tied them off with the band he had found on the bedside table.

"Ready to face the Inquisition," Heero stated wryly, stepping around him and walking toward the door.

Wufei stared at him. It was a bizarre gesture for Heero to have made, a tad too familiar…too _domestic_. What the hell was happening between them? "Heero," he called, intending to voice the same question, then blinked, finally _looking_ at him, and hissed, "Where do you think you're going like that?"

"Hmm?" Heero glanced down at his still-naked self and shrugged. "I didn't think to bring clothes with me last night."

"Well, you can't go wandering about like that," Wufei protested, turning back to the wardrobe and snatching a towel from the top shelf. 

Instead of throwing it, as Heero had no doubt been expecting, he crossed the room and shook out the towel, drawing it around the other boy's hips himself. He made sure to graze Heero's skin with his fingertips as he tucked the material into place, repaying some of the teasing he had suffered earlier.

"About last night," he said quietly, eyes focused quite deliberately on his task, and allowed himself a small smile. "It was my pleasure." He lifted his face and kissed Heero, moving a pace back. "I'll go downstairs and make our excuses. Take your time, all right?"

His comments surprised the Japanese pilot, who nodded mutely and watched him leave the room barefoot, then rolled his shoulder, feeling stiff muscles respond painfully. A bath would help, but he didn't think he had _that_ much time. After several moments, he toed the door to rest against the jamb and moved to the side of the bed, reaching out to skim his hand over rumpled sheets.

"Wufei." The name was breathed softly, reverently. "What are you doing to me?"

Barely a minute later, he walked out and headed for his own room, leaving a neatly made bed behind him.

---------------------------

"I swear, that guy's superhuman, or plain nuts." Duo's voice carried into the lounge as Wufei crossed through it. "He must have been going non-stop to finish that mission and get back here in two days!"

He briefly considered skipping breakfast, wondering if food was really worth the incessant pestering he _knew_ he was about to endure, but the growl in his stomach convinced him otherwise. Tipping his chin up, he walked into the kitchen with all the haughtiness he could muster.

Quatre, standing by the toaster, looked up with a smile. "Good morning." Trowa echoed the greeting from his place at the table.

"Well, well, if it isn't Mr. Punctuality!" Duo crowed, lifting his mug of coffee in a mock-salute. There was an empty plate in front of him, knife and fork crossed neatly – one of Maxwell's stranger habits.

Cocking an eyebrow, Wufei took the seat opposite the violet-eyed menace. "I had trouble sleeping last night," he offered neutrally. He accepted buttered toast and coffee from Quatre with a quiet, "Thank you." It had surprised him at first how quickly the other pilots had picked up his eating habits.

"Your ribs again?" Trowa asked, looking at him assessingly.

Wufei nodded and bit into a slice of toast. "I looked in on Heero before I came down. He seemed to be in good health, although I don't think he appreciated the wake-up call," he added, trying to sound nonchalant, then realised Duo was eyeing him over the rim of his mug. "_What?_" He could feel his good mood slipping already.

"Nice bed hair, 'Fei," Duo remarked and smirked when the Chinese pilot's hand went to his hair, smoothing it self-consciously.

"Oh Duo, can't you leave it for one morning?" Shaking his head, Quatre began to clear the plates, then squawked as hands caught his waist and pulled him onto the braided boy's lap. He managed, somehow, to keep the plates balanced.

"I wouldn't mind seeing _you_ lookin' ruffled first thing in the morning," Duo purred, nuzzling the back of Quatre's neck, who turned beet red. The sound of Trowa's quiet chuckling didn't help the Arab's composure either.

"Du-_o_…"

"Quat-_ruh_." Duo released his friend and bumped him gently off his lap. "Scoot. I'll flirt with you later," he said casually, battling with a grin and losing at the flustered expression on the other teen's face.

Wufei felt a frown pull at his brows as he finished the slice of toast. The exchange was a prime example of what he'd been trying to explain to Heero, that day on the landing. It _was_ different for Duo and Quatre – not only were they extremely tactile, they also had no difficulty in showing it. Would he and Heero be able to make that sort of display so openly?

"Morning."

All four heads turned at the new voice; Heero stood in the doorway, dressed in a plain white t-shirt and jeans. Duo's grin only seemed to grow bigger as he took in Heero's somewhat haggard appearance. "Guess you didn't sleep too well either, huh?" 

The warning glare that Heero sent his way put an effective damper on his teasing. _Great. Does that mean he's going to find innuendo in **everything** I say?_ he grumbled to himself. He stuck his nose in the half-empty mug and muttered, "Sorry I asked."

Heero grunted, his eyes softening when a glass of orange juice was pressed into his hand, courtesy of a still-blushing Quatre. Murmuring his thanks, he dropped into the empty chair beside Wufei. It might have been coincidence that his knee brushed Wufei's thigh as he sat down, but his free hand settling there for a few fleeting seconds was almost certainly _not_.

Blinking, Wufei struggled not to turn and stare at the Japanese teen, surprised that Heero would touch him with the other pilots present, even if it was under the table.

"Good mission?" Trowa asked, rising to help Quatre clear up.

Heero drained half the glass and sat back in the chair. "There were no problems."

It didn't take long for Duo to recover from his huff and pick up the bantering with Quatre, occasionally diverting his attention to the amused onlookers. Wufei watched the interaction between Duo and Quatre with growing interest. He hadn't noticed before – rather, he had had neither the opportunity nor the curiosity to notice – but there was a connection between the two that seemed to run deeper than friendship, and it begged the question of, 'Are they involved?'

_You sound like a gossiping housewife_, he chided himself and looked away. In doing so, he caught Heero's gaze, and before he fully knew what he was doing, his hand had slipped under the table to squeeze the other boy's. Much to his satisfaction, Heero had to take a drink to hide his smile.

The kitchen had long since been cleared when a lull finally appeared in the conversation, allowing them a moment to glance at each other. Then Quatre smiled and said, "You know, this is the first time all five of us have had breakfast together."

"It's the first time we've had _any_ meal together, Q," Duo pointed out, sipping at a cup of fresh coffee. "Kinda homey, isn't it?" He sat up from his half-slouched position with a grin. "Let's do dinner. Tonight."

"Duo, don't make fun –"

"Hey, I'm serious. It's not often we have a full house, why not make the most of it? Besides," he added, looking around the table, "I really enjoyed this."

That statement was something that nobody could deny. It _had_ been nice for the five of them to sit and talk with barely a mention about the war, like a breath of normalcy in their decidedly non-average lives. Wufei understood at last why his comrades chose to share accommodation whenever they could, and for the first time he regretted turning down their offers to stay with them. 

Yet that was a component part of what he was…camaraderie, friendship, wouldn't help him achieve his task of defeating what he perceived as evil. He chose to be alone, because he didn't need anyone else. But, as he had learned in the last two weeks, _need_ quite often had nothing to do with _want._

"All right, it's decided," Duo announced, drawing Wufei's attention back to the conversation. "Me, Quat and Trowa will be in charge of the food. You," he addressed Heero, "and 'Fei can take it easy."

Wufei frowned. "I'm not an invalid, Duo. Preparing food isn't exactly a taxing activity."

"I know, I know. But you should get all the rest you can. You too, Heero. If you guys insist on having something to do, you can set the table."

Heero accepted the suggestion without fuss, an indication of just how tired he was. Grudgingly, Wufei agreed as well, then pushed away from the table.

"I'm going out for a little exercise." He wasn't displeased when Heero got up, remarking that he could do with some fresh air, although he did sneak furtive glances at the other pilots for signs of suspicion.

_What are you afraid of? That they might disapprove if they found out?_ The scolding inner voice was back, and he ignored it stubbornly, walking out of the kitchen with Heero a few steps behind.

After returning to his room to change into a tank top and retrieve his sword, noting on his way that the bed had been made, he slipped on his shoes and headed out the front door. There was still a chill in the morning air, and he felt his skin prickle with goosebumps the moment he stepped outside. Heero, wearing his denim jacket, was waiting for him at the bottom of the stone steps, face turned toward the brightening sun; he looked round as Wufei reached his side.

"Where do you want to practice?" Yuy asked, setting a relaxed, strolling pace down the gravel drive, now overgrown with weeds.

"Doesn't matter." He glanced around, then gestured with his sword toward a lone flowering tree not far from the house. "Over there is fine."

Heero nodded and changed direction, and Wufei realised for the first time that the Japanese teen seemed preoccupied. Apprehension stole through him as he watched Heero sit down at the base of the tree and lean against it, closing his eyes, but he refrained from asking what was on his mind, concentrating instead on a few warm-up exercises before working up to the slower katas.

After the fifth stumble, he let the blade of his sword drop, the tip biting into the earth. His ribs were aching again and he had to fight down a growl of frustration at his inability to complete more than the simplest katas. He hadn't anticipated just how disabling cracked ribs could actually be.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Heero get to his feet, take off his jacket and approach him, moving to stand so close behind him that their bodies touched. "Don't push yourself," the cobalt-eyed pilot advised as he leaned his head over his companion's shoulder; his hands closed around Wufei's, guiding them to lift the sword again. "I know the basic exercises. Let me help you."

Wufei felt a glow of warmth in his chest, overriding his immediate protest that he didn't need help, and he dipped his head in silent approval. When he started the kata over, it became clear that Heero understood that he wasn't to take control – he moved smoothly with Wufei, lending his strength only for stances when the sword was raised past chest height, their motions fluid and perfectly matched. 

He finished the kata without faltering, and for several moments they stood together, silent, enjoying the proximity. There was a curious mix of contentment and unease in Wufei's mind, although he had no explanation for the latter emotion.

"We should tell them."

The remark was so out of the blue that Wufei took a second to register it. _Tell them…?_ He twisted to look over his shoulder at Heero. "I thought we agreed to keep this between us," he said carefully.

"We did, but…" Heero paused, trying to find the words. "…I don't want to hold hands under the table, or steal a kiss when we're alone. I _want_ them to know."

Wufei's unease grew, and he looked down at his hands, still clasped in Heero's around the hilt of the sword. Last night had been a mistake, compounded because they had slept together afterward – it had created the illusion of emotional intimacy between them, which in turn led to the strange, tender gestures that they had been exchanging all morning. He was certain it would fade…but did that mean he wantedit to? Maybe this was the first step to making the illusion real.

Heero let go, and Wufei turned to face him fully. "Think about it," he said quietly, leaning forward for a light kiss, before heading back toward the house.

With a sigh, Wufei stooped to pick up his sword's sheath, then moved to sit cross-legged on the grass beside the tree and set the blade across his knees. His heart felt heavy, as it hadn't done since that day when Heero had kissed him.

_I'm not ready_, he thought, steepling his fingers over the bridge of his nose, resisting the urge to rub at his eyes. He wasn't comfortable with the other pilots finding out. But there was more than one opinion to take into account, and Heero obviously _was_ ready to admit their…involvement.

And what, exactly, was the extent of that involvement? He enjoyed Heero's company, and his touch. He had missed the Japanese teen badly when he'd been away on the mission…had worried about him, even though Heero was the most capable among them. They had now become physically intimate – and he wanted to do it again. Would it really make that much difference if the others knew?

A breeze gusted past, drawing a shiver from him, and without thinking he reached over and picked up the jacket still lying by the base of the tree. It wasn't until he pulled it on that he remembered it was Heero's. With a slight hesitation, he wrapped it snugly around himself, hunching his shoulders a little and tucking his chin to his chest, inhaling the scent that clung to the material. He realised how ridiculous he would look if someone spotted him from one of the house's numerous front windows, yet something inside seemed to loosen after a few moments.

_'We should tell them.'_

Heero was wrong. That made it sound like he had an obligation to tell his comrades, when in truth it was none of their business. He owed them nothing as far as his personal life was concerned. However, he could _choose_ to tell them.

His mind clearer, if not completely decided, Wufei got to his feet and stared at the house…then turned on his heel and walked away, looking for a more secluded spot.

There was somebody he had to talk to, first.

_Nataku._

---------------------------

The house was strangely quiet when Wufei returned an hour later, and he paused at the door, listening for some signs of life as he hung Heero's jacket on the rack. He had learned quickly that silence was something to be suspicious of, especially in a building inhabited by Duo Maxwell. A scowl wrinkling his face, he toed off his shoes and propped his sword against the wall, then moved farther along the hall, keeping his calf muscles elastic to prevent the telltale sound of footfalls. Gods-be-damned if he was going to let Maxwell get the better of him.

He got no farther than the half-open door leading to the living room before the tension seeped out of him, surprise taking its place. From where he was standing, he could see the battered, slightly threadbare recliner that was Duo's favourite chair, currently occupied by the braided devil himself. 

And stretched out on top of him was Quatre, Duo's arms draped loosely around the Arab's waist as the two boys exchanged soft little kisses.

Wufei couldn't help watching for a few moments, a strange feeling of…_lightness_ spreading through him, seeming to touch even the tips of his fingers and toes. It was one thing to suspect that his fellow pilots shared a bond deeper than friendship, quite another to discover that he had been right. But he couldn't be too shocked – they made a much more likely couple than himself and Heero.

The faintest curve of a smile appeared on Duo's lips. "You're gonna have to move soon, Q," he murmured, regarding Quatre with a half-lidded gaze.

"I know." Quatre opened his eyes, nudging his head forward for another kiss and sighing his appreciation when Duo complied readily. "But I still want you to tell me what's going on. You know something."

"Nuh-uh, Quat," Duo scolded lightly. "I gave my word to Heero. Besides," he added with a wagging finger, "it's not polite to gossip."

Wufei didn't hear Quatre's quiet, mocking response; he had already moved out of earshot, taking the stairs as quickly as discretion, and his ribs, would allow, a frown etched on his face. What sort of promise would Heero ask of Duo? Of all the pilots, they were the closest, and perhaps more likely to share something personal. It could be _anything_… But his quickening pace and the embarrassed flush crawling up his neck betrayed his scepticism.

He was so distracted that he strode right past Heero's room without noticing the door was wide open, and only just caught the soft, surprised, "Wufei?" 

Smoothing his expression, he turned and moved to stand in the doorway, trying to keep his voice casual as he asked, "Yes?" 

His efforts were for naught, however. There was a definite hitch in his breath when he found himself confronted with Heero, sitting on the edge of the bed with a towel tucked around his hips, another towel held loosely in one hand, damp hair awry from tousling. Beads of water clung in the hollows of his collarbone, occasionally overspilling to trace a path down the line of his pectoral muscles.

"I apologise if my suggestion seemed…hasty," Heero said, cobalt eyes searching Wufei's uncertainly as the Chinese pilot looked up. "It's not that I'm unhappy with our current arrangement."

Wufei stepped inside and eased the door shut behind him. "You always want more, Yuy," he remarked, leaning back against the wood panelling. He lightened the comment with an amused smile.

"Just when it comes to you," Heero responded simply, and lifted the towel to continue drying his hair.

The ebony-haired teen fell silent a few heartbeats. "I want you to tell me how long Duo has known," he said at last, without moving from his place against the door.

Heero sighed and let the towel fall onto the bed, plucking at a loose thread. "He saw us on the landing," he replied. "I wasn't sure how you would react to that, so I asked him to keep it to himself."

"I see." Wufei closed his eyes, absorbing the information. Surprisingly, it didn't bother him as much as he would have thought. Perhaps if he hadn't spotted Duo and Quatre in the living room, he would have been more upset, but seeing them together had had a liberating effect on his newfound bond with Heero, like a vindication that he hadn't known he'd needed.

He found Heero watching him when he opened his eyes again, the regret in the other's expression clear, prompting him to cross the room and crouch in front of him. "Don't be sorry. My decision's been made, and this doesn't change it." This close, he could smell lavender on Heero's skin.

"What _is_ your decision?" Heero asked quietly, then blinked when Wufei reached up to splay a hand across his chest, rising slowly from his crouch and pressing the Japanese youth back onto the bed.

"You're right," Wufei answered, stretching out beside Heero, propped on a bent elbow. He kept his hand on Heero's chest, stroking the damp skin with his fingertips. "We should tell them…but more for our sakes than theirs. It's bound to get tiresome, having to be careful how we act around each other."

Heero rested a hand over Wufei's and looked up at him with tired eyes; even with his extraordinary stamina, Yuy was clearly exhausted. "Did Duo say something?" There was a slight frown on his face as he voiced the question.

"No. I overheard him with Quatre. Something about a promise." It was tempting to reveal what they'd been doing while he had listened, but he owed Duo the same courtesy that the American had shown him. Even if it was given grudgingly.

"Oh. So you saw them as well?" Heero ventured with the hint of a knowing smile. He looked toward the ceiling, then closed his eyes, stifling a yawn. "I was wondering what was going on between those two."

 "From what I heard, that was what Winner wanted to know about _us_. Maxwell told him off for gossiping."

A soundless chuckle vibrated in Heero's chest, but his eyes remained shut. The other pilot was beginning to doze off already. Wufei lowered his head to kiss him, keeping the contact gentle, more an assertion than anything else. "I'll be back later," he said softly.

This time his eyelids parted, just enough to give the Chinese teen a warm, appreciative look. "Good," Heero murmured, and squeezed the hand beneath his own.

Wufei drew away and rolled carefully off the bed, automatically supporting his ribs. Just a week ago, that manoeuvre would have been impossible without inviting excruciating pain. It was fascinating to see how much could change in a few days. He had never felt the truth of that statement as strongly as he did now, looking down at Yuy's slumbering form, completely relaxed in his presence. Somehow, in the space of the three weeks Wufei had spent in this house, Heero had gone from being barely more than an acquaintance, a comrade-in-arms, to becoming an important part in Wufei's life.

He wouldn't allow himself to think that Heero might grow to be the _most_ important part. Even if he had, his loyalty to Meilan's spirit would not accept it. Not yet.

But the future could wait, for a little while. For now, he was content…and he knew that not even Nataku would deny him that.

Owari


End file.

Gundam Wing/AC