"Frustration and Longing"
While the rest of Colony 0167 slept in peaceful ignorance, the
ex-terrorist, pilot of Gundam 01, sat by his window, oiling his guns as he
gazed out blankly at the empty streets.
Every spare second he got, Heero took the time to make sure his
equipment was clean and ready for immediate use. But now that the war was
over, he did it more out of nervous habit than any real need. It was
almost two o' clock in the morning, but the young soldier couldn't sleep.
He hadn't had a set "bedtime" since he'd been very small. Traveling
with Odin, sleep had come on the way to destinations-- catching a few
hours of sleep on the shuttle or train, sometimes crashing in a wrecked
building while his mentor kept watch. During Operation Meteor, sleep had
been scarce for all of them. He had slept only when he knew he was in
a secure location and there would be no immediate danger or
But the war was over. People slept at night and moved about in the
daytime. It was going to take Heero awhile to adjust his internal clock
to this schedule. His companions were also having trouble with it, but
they seemed to have adjusted a little quicker than he. He put his
cleaning rag and tools down as quietly as possible. They may have started
to get used to sleeping at night, but they slept lighter than cats.
Wufei had stepped on a creaky floorboard the other night and Trowa had
been awake in the blink of an eye, snatching his gun from the floor
beside his mattress.
So Heero was very quiet as he put his gun back together and checked
the chamber. He wasn't in the mood to feel cold steel against the back
of his head. All was quiet outside, so he turned his attention away
from the window to stare across the small room at the other two
He still wasn't sure what to think of Trowa's plan and the current
arrangement. Trowa had gotten used to sleeping in the same place with
someone else during his time with Catherine. But Heero was edgy about
sleeping so near another person, as no doubt Wufei was as well. Trowa and
Wufei had tracked down a few mattresses from a used furniture store for
dirt cheap almost two weeks ago, but hadn't gotten the frames yet. The
three "beds" were spaced as far apart as was possible in the tiny
one-bedroom apartment. Trowa's was against the far wall, Wufei's was close
to the window, and Heero had set up his own next to the door. It
helped a little.
Heero cast a dispassionate eye over the two sleeping figures, checking
to make sure they were sleeping soundly. Trowa was curled in a fetal
position, one hand shoved under the pillow, the other hanging off the
side of the mattress, fingers lying on the handgrip of his gun on the
floor. Wufei slept on his back, face turned towards the wall as if
unconsciously seeking some privacy, even in slumber. One hand lay by his
side, a quick grab away from the sheathed sword poking out from under the
mattress. His other hand was thrown over his head, fingers twitching
occasionally. Dreaming, no doubt.
Belatedly Heero felt the small twitch of his mouth as he studied his
partners, and turned his attention back to the window. He hadn't
watched anybody sleep since... Odin, wasn't it? That night the tough soldier
had nodded off in the middle of his watch. Heero had watched him sleep
for a little while, until Odin woke up on his own.
Heero fished in his vest pocket for the scrap of paper he knew was
there. It took him a moment's patting to actually locate the pocket. He
was still unused to wearing clothes other than the outfit he'd worn
during the war. When Trowa had pointed out the possibility of someone
recognizing them by their clothes, Heero had immediately visited the
closest flea market and procured a few items of clothing. They were old and
worn, and still strange, but Heero felt more at ease with that possible
danger of being recognized taken care of.
Of course, to be completely safe, Wufei had pointed out drolly, they'd
have to invest in some extreme plastic surgery. Heero had actually
taken him seriously for a minute until Trowa had reminded him-- looking as
if he was trying not to smile --that such a procedure was extravagantly
expensive. They would just have to watch their backs; there was always
the very real danger of passing an ex-OZ soldier in the streets and
Heero found the folded paper and pulled it out, unfolding it quietly.
He held it up so that the yellowish light of the streetlight outside
made the words visible. He'd read it several times, puzzling over its
significance, and he read it again now, mouth set in a straight line. It
was from Relena-- another invitation/borderline plea for him to join
her on earth and become her personal bodyguard. She could even make him
Captain of the Guards, if he wished. She would protect him from any
still holding a grudge against the Gundam pilots, and he would in turn
watch her back and prevent any assassination attempts from those that
still disagreed with her ideal of pacifism. A part of him knew that this
was a reasonable enough request, and might even be good for him. It
would be a good use for his skills as a soldier, and he would even get
paid. As it was, none of them were doing too well financially at the
moment. The scientists had provided them with something like a paycheck
every so often for supplies-- weapons, food, etc. But they had died in
the last battle, and now the three of them were scraping the bottom of
the barrel as far as money went. Their financial troubles could be
easily taken care of, of course. Heero could fix the whole problem with
one phone call to Quatre. But his pride stood in the way-- and Wufei's
pride and dignity were even greater than Heero's. He would never agree
to it. Trowa hadn't said anything about making the request, perhaps
sensing that neither of his partners would go along with it. That left
only one option.
Trowa had managed to acquire a job as a delivery man for a noodle
shop; he had taken to balancing a dozen of the boxes for tips. But while
Trowa possessed the ability to blend in and become the mild-eyed robot
fast-food services required, Heero's people skills were horrible. He
was having the most difficulty finding work-- he tended to scare the shit
out of whoever he was trying to get to hire him. Wufei possessed the
ability to be extremely polite, but unfortunately it was a side of
himself he tended to destroy with his short temper. He also thought it
beneath him to take most of the odd, menial jobs the small colony had to
offer, which brought up more curious questions about his heritage and
upbringing-- none of which he bothered to answer. His imperious manner
sometimes suggested a wealthy background, but if he'd once had a fortune
of some sort, it had no doubt been destroyed along with his colony. So
his partners were careful not to bring it up anymore.
Putting the paper back in the pocket of his unfamiliar vest made
Heero's mind flit to the other two pilots. Had Duo thought of changing his
attire? His outfit was the most noticeable of the five. Heero
wouldn't know; he hadn't heard from Duo since they'd parted ways at Quatre's
estate where he'd been healing. It was a little strange, considering
the other boy's last words to him. Of course, some of what he said
hadn't started to make sense until just recently.
"You watch out for yourself, man," he'd said with one of his big
grins, throwing his arm around Heero's shoulders and poking him in the
cheek-- just to irritate him, Heero was sure. "You're a free man, now. Try
to spread a little happiness around instead of death and destruction.
I'm sure you have someone that can help you with that."
"Someone?" Heero had repeated, dead-pan, as he pushed the finger from
his face patiently.
Duo had rolled his eyes, as if to say "we both know what I'm talking
about, but I'll humor you and let you think it's your little secret".
Heero had stared at him blankly. "Listen, Heero, here's a tip: be
patient. And be willing to give things a try, OK? Don't spend the rest of
your life alone. Anyway... take care, buddy. And keep in touch,
Keep in touch. But he hadn't seen or heard from the other boy since
that day. Quatre either, for that matter. That was stranger than Duo's
silence. Quatre had always been the most outgoing and friendly of
them, yet it was as if he'd disappeared. Even while he'd been recuperating
under the watchful eyes of Duo and the nurses, he had only briefly seen
Quatre, whose usually sunny smile had seemed so tired every time he'd
seen him. Wufei didn't seem to give the two pilots a second thought,
but Trowa had tried to get in touch with Quatre once. When he'd been
unable to, he hadn't brought it up again, but Heero sensed his enigmatic
partner thought about it often.
Heero stared down at the gleaming gun in his hand before glancing
around the bare room once more, shaking off thoughts of his other
This, then, had been Trowa's plan. Since the question of what they
were to do about whatever it was between them was a touchy subject, Trowa
had suggested they try an experiment. First they would see if they
could live with each other. "We'll give it a few months," he'd said.
"Three months. If by the end of those three months it's obvious we can't
even stay in the same place without killing each other, we'll each go
our own ways. Sound fair?"
So that was what they were trying. Heero didn't have high hopes for
the mission. Plan, he corrected himself with an internal wince. They
were all still too high-strung to stay together in such close quarters.
Often they would each find an excuse to leave and go wandering on some
errand or other to be by themselves. And words between them were often
short and impersonal. "Shower's free", "I'm going out", "That one",
"Are you hungry?" and so forth.
Not very promising.
But every now and then, something a little lighter would slip in. If
Wufei was in a relatively good mood, he'd get into a ranting argument
with Heero that held no heat behind it. Heero would goad him for
reactions, always careful not to push it into taboo topics, and Trowa would
perch nearby and observe with a silent, tiny smile of amusement. When
Trowa was relaxed or in a peaceful mood, he showed scraps of affection
that Heero found surprisingly refreshing and wanted. It wasn't much--
fingertips on his face, just briefly; idly examining the scars or
calluses on either boy... simple little things that Heero had found strange
at first, but had quickly come to appreciate. Such a simple thing,
touch... But before Trowa, he couldn't remember the last time someone had
touched him so gently. Wufei always seemed to be patiently tolerant of
Trowa's brief signs of affection, but Heero could tell the swordsman
needed it just as much as he himself did. Wufei had given himself away
once, turning unconsciously into a hand on his cheek.
Unfortunately, Trowa was the only one brave enough to do these things.
Heero found himself tugging Wufei's ponytail to get his attention
sometimes, or placing his hand on Trowa's shoulder to see something the
other boy was looking at, but these instances were mostly unconscious, and
tended to be rare. And Wufei almost never touched them. Heero wasn't
sure if it was from his upbringing, or if he was still extremely
insecure about it all, but the last time he could remember the dark-eyed boy
touching him had been a quick swat to the arm to get his attention.
Heero thought again of those rare moments, of the almost invisible
crumbs of affection, and decided to go with his previous opinion.
He made a decision right then, as he stared at his sleeping partners
with a determined glint to his eye. This wouldn't work unless an effort
was made. Heero would make an effort to make this work because, if he
was brutally honest with himself, he wanted it to work; he
wanted to see where this strange partnership could lead. He would follow
his emotions; he would obey his basest, most human instincts and run with
them. And maybe if he gave into these impulses, it would give courage
to the others. If he showed them that he wanted this to work, would
they respond in kind? Would it help? Would it give them an answer to
what was really going on beneath the surface? Maybe. It was worth a
Heero released the pole he'd set in the doorframe when they'd moved
in, dropping lightly to the ground and reaching up to wipe sweat from his
"How many pull-ups was that?" came Trowa's dry voice. "A
"Fifty," Heero corrected automatically, missing the sarcasm
completely. He turned, leaning in the doorframe to see his partner.
Trowa gave a quiet snort of amusement, but otherwise didn't respond.
He was doing pushups beside his mattress, one after the other, steadily
and without any expression on his face. After a few moments he
finished and rolled over to sit with his back against the wall, breathing a
little hard after his exercise. He reached for his water bottle,
twisting off the cap. He glanced at his watch in doing so. "I have to go to
work in half an hour," he reported. "I'll bring dinner home."
Noodles again. Heero bit back a grimace. He had never thought he
would get sick of any one food-- what did it matter, as long as it kept
his belly from attaching itself to his spine? But after almost three
weeks of eating nothing but ramen, Heero was almost beginning to long for
a good, old-fashioned MRE. Wufei would probably say something nasty in
his native tongue when Heero reported the night's menu. He was just as
sick of the fare. He was currently out job hunting, though Heero
didn't have to be a psychic to guess the outcome of the day's efforts.
Trowa got to his feet and walked over to take the towel from Heero.
But when he reached for it, Heero pulled it calmly out of reach. At
first it was because he wasn't done with it-- then, suddenly, it was for
no real reason at all. Not to be malicious. Just to see his reaction.
Sort of for the same odd reason he followed the impulse to pull Wufei's
hair to get his attention; the explosion of temper was always expected
afterwards, yet he still continued to do it.
Trowa hesitated when Heero didn't use the towel, but merely held it
out of immediate reach. Hesitantly, not sure what the hell his partner
was up to, he reached for it again. And again Heero pulled it back,
holding it over his head and looking up at Trowa calmly. Trowa reached
one more time-- and realized he was practically stepping on Heero's toes
in his attempts to retrieve the prize. He could easily snatch it if he
wanted; his arms were longer than the other boy's. But that would be
rude. He glanced down unconsciously as he reached one final time for
the towel held just out of reach, and caught the hint of a glimmer of
amusement to Heero's normally stony eyes.
Trowa was so startled at his sudden revelation he almost trod on the
other pilot's feet. Heero Yuy was slowly learning the art of teasing,
even if he didn't understand what it was or why he did it.
Trowa felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. It was a small
thing, but for Heero, it was a big step. Trowa rewarded this sign of
humanity by ducking his head and stealing a quick kiss.
Heero jumped a little; there had been no kissing since the end of the
war. None of them had had the courage to do such a thing, unsure how
the other pilots would take it. He was so startled by it that he didn't
move in time to hide the towel; Trowa reached out and plucked it away
with a tiny smile before turning away and heading for his side of the
Heero didn't realize how much he'd missed kissing and touching the
other pilots until that moment.
He reached out and snagged a finger in the taller pilot's belt loop,
jerking him to a halt. When Trowa half-turned to look at him
questioningly, he stepped up in his personal space and lifted his chin to press
his mouth to Trowa's in a hard, demanding kiss of his own. Somehow,
within a heartbeat, it became more than just a quick peck, and the
temperature of the room seemed to hike up several degrees.
Trowa's hands were buried in thick dark hair, tilting his head for a
deep kiss. Heero wasn't sure how the hands had gotten there, but then,
he wasn't complaining, either. His own traitorous hands had each
seized a slender hip and were dragging the other boy insistently closer. He
could remember once again with perfect clarity how it had felt when
Trowa had pinned him against the table in that carrier-- and pressed up
against him in the hangar on earth.
Either Trowa was thinking along the same lines, or he'd read Heero's
body language like brail. In the next instant Heero found his back flat
against the wall and a strong, willowy body leaning into him at just
the right angle to make casual interest take a flying leap over the edge
into unexpected, roaring need. A thigh pressed between his legs and a
hand worming its way up his shirt were making it difficult to think
straight, much less breathe properly. Not to mention the fact that every
time they broke away for air, their mouths found each other again
Slender yet strong hands skimmed down his back and seized..- Heero
jerked his mouth away to make a startled noise at the bold move. Before
he could protest-- or encourage, he wasn't sure at this point --Trowa,
in a brief show of hidden strength, lifted Heero clear off the floor
without so much as a grunt.
Heero reacted instinctively, like a surprised cat. His arms snagged
strong shoulders and he lifted his legs to pin narrow hips between his
knees. Propped this way, and with the wall supporting his back, he was
eye to eye with the other boy, and so close--
There was no telling how far things would have gone if they'd but had
more time. But after perhaps a minute or two of almost desperate
kissing and near-grinding, Trowa reluctantly pulled away and let the other
boy drop to the ground. Heero's hands found auburn hair and latched on
fiercely. Trowa froze with a wince, looking guiltily into burning
"I have to get to work," he explained, his voice husky to his own
ears. He reached up to carefully pull the strong hands free. "Gomen."
Heero's eyes flashed defiantly, and his scowl could have melted lead.
But duty had come before anything else for most of his young life, so
he was able to back down, though the frustrated glare he offered made it
obvious he did so only reluctantly and with great resentment.
Heero was still sulking-- and telling himself he was not sulking
--when Wufei returned from his fruitless search an hour later.
The weary ex-pilot took one look at his glowering partner as he shut
the door behind him and hung up the battered denim jacket Heero had
gotten him at the flea market, and felt his already gloomy spirits darken.
He wasn't sure what had Heero in such a funk-- he was just hoping
whatever it was, it wasn't his fault. He was too grumpy himself to listen
to the other boy shoot off at the mouth. He was sick of looking for
demeaning jobs and getting turned down. He knew there wasn't any other
choice-- the way to get to his family's fortune had been lost when his
few remaining relatives had been killed in the destruction of L5 --but it
still rankled him that he had to stoop to searching for jobs as a
dishwasher or a waiter. It was an insult to his pride that he tried to deal
with day after day. Being turned down because of his cold attitude or
simply a lack of jobs didn't help matters.
So he was not in a good mood, having been turned down thrice in a row
in just the two hours he'd been out. He wanted some food and a quiet
spot to meditate. The look on Heero's face promised anything but a
peaceful atmosphere, however, and Wufei couldn't hold back his replying
scowl as he walked by to fetch something hopefully still edible from the
He'd told himself he wouldn't give the other boy any reason to focus
that bad mood on him, but Wufei couldn't help himself. He was
frustrated, and it was his habit to take his frustration and rage out on the
nearest target. Since his sword was closer to Heero than to him, across
the room, and there weren't even any mobile suits to crush into scrap
metal, he shot a few waspish words Heero's way and waited for the return
fire as he disappeared into the kitchen. "You look like you just
failed a priority mission, Yuy," he snapped over his shoulder. "Either
that, or you're severely constipated, and you need to the hell away from my
mattress before you soil it."
Just a few weeks ago Heero wouldn't have picked up on the biting
sarcasm. But he'd been around the other two pilots enough by now to pick up
their versions of humor. As Wufei returned from the kitchen with the
last granola bar, he got caught in the blast of Heero Yuy's infamous
death glare. But the glare that had made adult soldiers wet themselves in
terror made no impression on the dark-eyed pilot who leaned stiffly
against the kitchen doorframe and frowned back at him darkly.
The tension had shot up a notch, when it had already been high to
begin with. But it wasn't just an angry tension, Wufei noted belatedly,
studying his partner; it was more like dangerous restlessness. Like a
soldier trapped in a box with nothing to shoot at, or a child kept inside
out of the rain for too long...
Heero's glare shifted subtly from deadly to intense scrutiny.
Or, Wufei corrected himself, mouth gone suddenly dry, like a wolf
who'd been hunting all day with no luck, and had just run across his first
meal of the day.
Heero was up and across the room in the time it took Wufei to
recognize that look and take a hasty step back.
"Wait a mi-- Mmmph!" A hard, demanding mouth muffled his protests,
and the granola bar ended up on the floor.
Strong hands seized his hips and dragged him forward, crushing him
against the wiry body of his partner, and Wufei moved his own hands up
unconsciously to clench unruly brown hair in his fists. He responded
immediately to the rough kiss, focusing all the day's frustrations and
pent-up aggression into it. The bruising kiss shot from his mouth to the
soles of his feet-- it had been too long since anything like this had
transpired between the three of them. Nothing since the end of the war..
An impatient hand pushed its way past cloth to skim up his bare back,
and he shuddered, pushing his tongue past the one in his mouth in an
attempt to gain dominance. When Heero shoved him against the wall and
twisted his hips against Wufei's own, he no longer had the self control
to stop the startled groan that escaped his throat.
Definitely too long.
It took every last shred of Wufei's willpower to wrench his mouth away
and push the other boy to arm's length. Heero froze immediately, eyes
flicking quickly to study his face. His eyes were still darkened with
lust, but his expression was suddenly unreadable, his hands backing off
hastily. He had read it as a rejection, and was horrified at himself
for pushing such a thing against the other boy.
But Wufei shook his head quickly to reassure him. "Trowa," he managed
to gasp after a moment, chest heaving with desperate want and the need
Heero hesitated, brows tightening a little in confusion.
"If we're going to do anything," Wufei said firmly, "we should wait
for Trowa." His body wailed at him for being such an idiot, but Wufei
refused to give in to its selfish wants. He wasn't going any farther
unless Trowa was there, as well. Not only because it would be the right
thing to do, but because they all needed to figure this thing out
together. It had been their stupid idea that had gotten him into this, and
now that his first arguments had failed, he was going to give it his
best shot. If Heero couldn't deal with that, then this.. whatever it was
between the three of them... wouldn't work.
Heero seemed to be figuring it out slowly, his face relaxing into
comprehension and the rigidness of his body seeping away. He nodded once
and stepped back, out of Wufei's personal space. Wufei breathed a
silent sigh of relief and ignored his body's plaintive complaints at his
retreat as he scooped the granola bar from the floor and headed for his
mattress, putting as much space between himself and the other boy as
possible. They'd agreed to wait for Trowa, but better safe than sorry. If
he had to look into Heero's intense gaze much longer, he wasn't sure he
could trust himself to behave.
The two boys settled on their respective sides of the room and awaited
the return of their unsuspecting partner.
Back to GW fics
Back to Amiko's Fics