Teenage Dirtbag Sequel Chapter 8

by Granate, 2004

Disclaimer: I own Gundam Wing. But I'm also certifiably insane, so don't expect that claim to hold up in court.

I am hunched over some paper work at my desk and trying not to think about Duo’s interview, which should be going on right now. I’m not normally so distracted. I bounce my foot under the desk and tap my pen on the paper. It’s completely out of my hands now; I really should stop thinking about it. Flashbacks from last night aren’t helping either. It was a night of endless oral sex. I decided he needed to be relaxed again so I went down on him and drew it out, really made it last. Then we just kept going until we couldn’t hold our eyes open anymore. I came three times. The first was incredible and the other two were effortless and satisfying. Oddly enough, it was a nice break from how intense it is every time I’m with him.

I stop tapping my pen when I hear the hall door open and shut, and then footsteps through the maze of cubicles to mine, cloistered off in the corner. This can only mean someone wants something from me. Damn, I never get my own work done. “Being everyone’s bitch” was part of the job description, however.

I look up just as my boss, Dr. Fenway, leads Duo around the corner. He and I just stare at each other for a moment and he raises his eyebrows at me. I mimic his expression, equally clueless about what’s going on here.

“Heero,” Fenway says, oblivious to our exchange, “this is our applicant, Duo Maxwell. I believe you two know each other.” The dry tone of his voice hints at some sarcasm to that statement. It’s hard to tell with him, though.

“Heero,” Duo says and holds out his hand to me. Is he trying to be funny? I stand up and shake it. I feel stupid, I mean, he’s standing there in my shirt and shoes, but then I realize I’ve never shaken his hand before.

“As part of the interview process, I’m assigning you both a task to complete together. You will have four hours to finish,” my boss says. I avoid looking at Duo to gauge his reaction. The man in charge removes a piece of paper from the folder he carries and hands it to Duo before leaving. Duo looks at the paper and makes a face.

“Ohhh-kaaay,” he frowns, “I hope you know what all this stuff means.” He looks up and gives me the paper. He sounds disheartened already, which makes me wonder how his interview with the board went, but I don’t ask.

“Here, sit down,” I say, moving away from the chair. He sits and I spread the paper on the desk in front of him. I lean my palm on the desktop, my arm touching his shoulder very much on purpose, and give him a crash course in the shorthand notation we use. After he’s gotten the hang of it, he’s more enthusiastic. It’s specs for a technical design project. It won’t be easy, but he’s sure we can come up with something in three and half hours. He tucks his tie between the buttons of his shirt and rolls up his sleeves as we get to work.

This is the moment of truth. All this time I’ve simply been assuming everything will be smooth between us. Working with him turns out not to be exactly what I expected. It’s frustrating at first. I get the ideas flowing faster, but he’s better at thinking about the production steps – what it will take to actually build this thing. Time, manpower, cost of materials and skilled labor, necessary technology. He’s not hesitant at all about questioning me or flat out telling me when I’m off the mark. He tells me more than once that I’m making things too complicated and suggests something simpler. He’s practical where I am visionary. He scrutinizes every detail and challenges my every idea unless I manage to convince him that I’m right. I’m surprised by this but I come to realize that this is exactly what I need. This is going to work. Not only what we are working on here, but this partnership, him and me.

Four hours later, we wait outside the boss’s office. He tells Duo to come inside with the plan and I am excused back to my work. Duo spares me a quick glance before going in and my shoulders visibly sag as the door shuts. It’s half mine I should be in there, I want to shout. I go back to my cube and I try to work, although I am understandably distracted.

I jump when my phone rings an hour later.

“Yuy,” I answer before it rings again.

“My office, now.”

I am hung up on and then nearly trip over my rolling chair as I sprint out of the cube. Fenway does not look up as I enter and close the office door behind me. I approach the desk and see that he’s scanning a familiar sheet of drafting paper, drumming a finger on the desk, and looking annoyed.

“Sit.”

I do. He puts the paper down and looks at me with a very unamused expression.

“It was just a test, Yuy,” he says, “I merely wanted to get a sense of how you’d work together, you weren’t supposed to give me something we could actually use. Now what am I supposed to do for the other interviews?”

He flicks the paper across the desk in my direction and I trap it nimbly under my hand. “You should have been more specific in your instructions, then,” I say with an ill-concealed smirk.

“Couple of damned show-offs, the both of you,” he says, still looking annoyed.

“What do you think?” I ask, trying not to sound too eager.

“That’s not your usual work, it’s much too practical and down to earth.”

“I told you he was good,” I say, sounding more smug than I really ought to. Fenway just shakes his head, so I ask as casually as I can manage, “Think you’ll hire him?”

The answer I get is more of a yes than I could hope for. “In all fairness, I need to interview a few other applicants,” he tells me. “However, I don’t put it past you to sabotage the other tests.”

“Sabotage?” I ask innocently.

Fenway gives me a flat look. “You’ll have four other hopefuls to work with this week. If you make anyone cry, I’m docking your pay.”

“Yes, sir,” I say and take my leave, knowing a dismissal when I hear one.

I get some work done, but towards the end of the day, I feel like hiding under my desk so that no one can come ask me to do anything else. I disappear into the periodical library to do some cataloging since it was on my list anyway. I keep the lights off in the front so that no one will know I’m in here. At five o’clock, I slip down the hall and out a side door to my car. I don’t usually have a problem staying until six or so, making it a ten-hour day, but I need to get back to Duo today.

When I get to my apartment, he’s changed into his own clothes and is on the couch drinking a beer. An empty bottle decorates the coffee table and it’s not mine from last night. Coming home to him lounging on my couch is not an unwelcome sight at all.

“Started without ya, sorry,” he says with an apologetic grin.

“It’s ok,” I say, placing my keys on their hook, “you didn’t get any last night.”

“Too busy modeling,” he reminds me as I flop down next to him. I open my mouth but he stops me before I get a word out. “Please don’t ask how it went,” he says without any kind of explanation. I guess the question was written all over my face. I try not to frown.

“Ok,” I say slowly, “then I’ll ask… what do you want to do for dinner?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “Now I have a question for you.”

“Ok.”

“Kiss me.”

“That wasn’t a question,” I state the obvious as he sets his bottle on the table. Without a word, he takes hold of my jaw and kisses me. It’s deep, almost needy, and I respond to it at once. His hands grasp the cloth around the collar of my shirt and pulls at my neck, bringing me closer.

We can’t stop kissing. It’s the kind of kissing that bodies soon get involved in. I get one leg around him so that our hips touch and he’s stroking my stomach under my shirt. His fingers reach my belt and he breaks away awkwardly.

“Ok?” he asks with ragged breath. He’s asking because this is more like stress relief than intimacy. This is like him coming home and masturbating except he waited for me.

As if I’m going to complain.

I don’t waste time answering and just devour his mouth. I need my own stress relief at the moment. The feelings of helplessness and idleness I suffered nearly all day wore on me, having him so close but not being able to do anything. What can I say? I’m a control freak. My breath hitches when he gets inside my pants and I quickly unbutton his shorts. He doesn’t lie down or release my mouth, so I figure he just wants it quick with hands, which I have no problem with what so ever.

Almost as soon as I touch him, he’s crawling into my lap. He settles there, straddling my thighs, and my name is exhaled in a long shuddering moan as he moves into my hand. He captures my lips again, biting and sucking them, but we give up trying to kiss as we get closer to orgasm. I separate myself mentally from what he’s doing to me so that I can get him off first. He clutches my shoulder as he comes, never letting his hand relax on me. Once he’s taken care of, I let him bring me off, and he does so quickly and thoroughly.

I open my eyes when I hear him chuckle. He removes my hand from his boxer shorts but leaves the other one wound in his braid. I always seem to go for the hair without realizing it. He pokes my stomach.

“Might want to change your shirt,” he grins. I look down to see that one or both of us came on it.

“Yeah,” I grunt, still putting my mind back together. He kisses me hard then, pushing my head back against the couch cushions and thrusting his tongue into my mouth. A kiss like that doesn’t help me get my brain back on track and when he releases me I slump onto my side. He gets up and disappears. When I see him again, he’s in different pants and dug out a new teeshirt for me. It’s not enough though, because I’m going to have to change my pants too.

I get up and clean up and then we decide to walk to a nearby bar. We’re both starving so we eat whatever greasy special the kitchen is serving before claiming a pool table. He’s not ordering anything to drink, so I drink just enough so that we can rightfully stay. He’s better at pool than I thought he would be. After a close, grueling game, he wins by a nose. Then we team up and are crushed by another pair of guys. We buy them the promised pitcher of beer and then retire to let another pair challenge them. Duo and I settle down at a high table along the wall next to a dusty, decrepit upright piano.

It’s quiet for a few moments until he says, “Don’t do it, Yuy.”

I huff at him, unused to being so easily read. “I wasn’t going to ask, I was just going to tell you something.”

He gives me a skeptical look.

“I was just going to say that I think my boss liked our results,” I inform him.

“Oh. Well, that’s good. I went back in front of the board to present it,” he says. This is the first I’ve heard him say anything about it so I listen intently. “They gave me the freakin’ third degree on it, like they were making sure I didn’t let you do the whole thing or something. Since when did you become the over-achiever, Yuy?” he asks with a sly grin.

“Ha ha,” I say and throw him a flat look. I like the playful way he calls me my last name sometimes. It reminds me that our friendship and camaraderie didn’t end when we started sleeping together, which is a very good thing. “Well, I wasn’t over-achieving that time, so you should have had no trouble.”

Duo laughs at me. “You certainly tried to over-achieve.” I shift in my seat and he looks contrite. “Ehh, I shouldn’t be teasing you about it,” he says. “You’re brilliant Heero, it’s good that you don’t hide it anymore.”

“It was better with your input,” I say. “Fenway said so too.”

Duo perks up just a little bit in that wide-eyed-teenager way that I remember. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I nod and down some of my beer.

He makes a frustrated noise and stomps his feet on the wooden floor a couple times. “Argh, I can’t even let myself think about it!” he exclaims. “No more talking about it!”

I agree and then silently finish my beer. His knee bounces under the table, hitting it a few times and making the glass clink against the ashtray. He grimaces.

“How long till they notify me?” he blurts out. I smirk at his outburst.

“There will be three or four more interviews this week. I can’t imagine the decisions taking longer than a week,” I answer. They won’t even take a full day if I have anything to say about it.

“Will you have more tests like we had today?” he asks.

My smirk becomes a sharky grin. “Yup. Something tells me I won’t be feeling terribly cooperative.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “I pity the poor fools,” he jokes.

“Fenway told me I’m not allowed to make anyone cry,” I say, making it sound like a joke. Duo laughs. We sit around the bar for a little while longer and then head back to my apartment. It’s nagging me that he leaves tomorrow morning and neither of us has brought it up yet.

“Need me to drive you to the airport?” I ask as we walk.

“Nah,” he says, “you shouldn’t miss any work, that wouldn’t look good. Is there a bus I can take?”

I tell him about the bus line and we agree that I’ll drop him off at the bus stop on my way to work. We hang around the living room for a while. Of course, there is no question about how this night will end up, but due to our activity earlier, we’re not in too much hurry to get to bed. I had not let myself think about it before, but if he doesn’t get the job, I don’t know when I’ll be seeing him again. I get a little panicky feeling in my chest and am suddenly in a big hurry to get him into bed, where it’s easier to make him understand how I feel.

I reach out and drag him across the couch until he’s against my chest. He squirms a little in protest of being moved without his permission but gives it up as I kiss his neck and ear. He hums in pleasure, but when I sneak my fingers under his shirt he pushes my hands away.

“Wait, Heero, not so fast,” he says and then looks embarrassed. I’m not sure what he means by that until he looks in my eyes and I read it there plain as day in that deep blue. The sooner we go to bed and have sex and fall asleep, the sooner it will be tomorrow and he’ll have to leave. My hands twitch, wanting to touch him.

“What do you want to do, then?” I ask, more than willing to indulge him in lengthy foreplay.

“Ummm,” he thinks. “Strip poker?”

I laugh.

“Except I don’t know how to play poker,” he amends. He gets on the floor and goes to my game systems under the TV. He wants to play video games?

“Ah!” he exclaims. “Old school Mortal Kombat II!”

“Had that forever,” I comment.

“It’s settled, then,” he says, “we’ll play Strip Mortal Kombat.”

My jaw drops. We’re going to do what?

“Just like Strip Poker! If you lose a round, you have to remove one article of clothing.”

He seems very pleased with his idea, but this will definitely be a first for me. I sit down on the floor next to him. “Ok, but I have a rule too,” I say.

“What’s that?” he asks as he turns on the TV.

“We’ll have a contest to see who can go longest before touching the other.”

“You’re on!”

The Mortal Kombat music starts and I still can’t believe I’m doing this. “If you ever tell anyone about this, I’ll deny it,” I say.

“I can’t make any promises that it won’t become NASA watercooler gossip,” he laughs as we select players. “You’re going to be Liu Kang? He even looks like you, being Asian and all.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up!” I laugh back. “I do not look like him! He’s not even the right kind of Asian. He would be Chinese and I’m half Japanese, dummy.”

“They’re all the same,” he teases. I reach my leg out to kick him, but then I remember that that would be touching, so I don’t. I take my revenge on his fighter, Johnny Cage.

“And he gets that mullet later,” Duo continues, “are you going to grow a mullet?” Obviously, annoying babble is his distraction technique. I ignore him and kill his character.

“Shit!” he swears and grudgingly takes off his shirt. Maybe this is going to be fun after all. Neither of us have many layers on, so it won’t take long. I stick with Kang and he goes with Kitana.

“Get your lame-ass fans out of my face, woman,” I mock him.

“Damn! It’s the Asian Invasion!” he snorts when I finish him off. I move to kick him again but restrain myself. “Ok, you’re not allowed to be Liu Kang anymore,” he says and shimmies out of his shorts.

“You’re just saying that ‘cause you’re sitting there in your underwear,” I say smugly.

“Yeah, the point was to get you all naked,” he gripes.

“Gonna have to beat me then,” I say with a feral grin.

“Be Mileena and lets make the Twins cat fight!” he suggests. I oblige him.

“Hey, Heero,” he says after a moment, “you still like chicks, right?”

“Yeah,” I answer as I dodge his fans.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I say again. I don’t think I’ve got it completely worked out in my own head yet so I don’t know what to tell him, but yeah, it’s weird all right. I don’t know why I assume that that’s as far as the conversation will go.

“I mean, I still get horny thinking about women, but I think about you and it’s like a whole other feeling altogether. I feel like… some kind of animal, like I want to eat you alive.”

I look over at him. He looks back and says, “Fatality!” before killing me.

“Fucker!” I protest. He just cackles. “Your distraction techniques are getting more cunning,” I say dryly and pull my shirt over my head.

“I was being serious!” he claims. “Not my fault you can’t talk and fight at the same time.”

“Rematch,” I insist. He wins again and I swear off of Mileena as I remove my shorts and he catcalls at me. We’re even now, both sitting in our boxer shorts. I want him to get naked first, so I switch back to Liu Kang. He grumbles a little and selects Baraka. He puts up a tough fight, but I get him in the end.

“Aw, and I always thought I was good at this game,” he whines cutely. I just grin at him and wait for him to remove his last article of clothing, but he doesn’t. He pulls his braid over his shoulder and tugs off the band. “Ha! Trumped!” he exclaims and shoots the rubberband at me. I duck and glower at him.

“Anything else you plan on surprising me with?” I ask. “Perhaps a prosthetic pinky toe?”

“Nope. This is it Yuy, this is the Big Time,” he says seriously. He goes back to Johnny Cage and we fight again. We give it our all. I don’t remember him being so competitive, but I guess he really wants to get me naked. Sorry, Duo, but not this time.

“Damn!” he swears and grumbles under his breath. He shoots me a dirty look, obviously not appreciating the expression on my face. He pulls off his underwear and throws them at me. I gladly allow them to hit me in the face and fall into my lap

“All right, Yuy,” he growls, “you’re in for it now!”

It takes him two more games but he finally wins. He gloats a lot more then he really ought to for losing so much, but I gamely slide my shorts off and drop both pairs in a pile on the floor not far away. We play some more, and I have to admit it’s kind of fun and silly to be sitting on the floor playing video games naked. It’s amusing to watch him bounce around and be so animated, kind of takes me back. It’s hard to remember that this is the same Duo Maxwell who was wearing a suit and tie this morning in my cube. I’m just glad he’s managed to take his mind off the job situation. After only a few more games, I can’t take it anymore.

“I lose,” I announce and toss my controller to the floor. He triumphantly finishes off the abandoned Liu Kang as I crawl over to him and start kissing his shoulder. When he’s done, I yank the controller from his hands and dispose of it. He can’t kiss properly, he’s smiling so much. He tips his head back and laughs.

“You lose, huh?” he asks.

“Yup,” I answer, nibbling at his throat.

“So, what does that mean I win?” he asks and I feel fingers sliding up the inside of my thigh. I bite his ear lobe in response and then he turns and captures my lips with his.

We kiss hungrily, but more lingering and less urgent than this evening on the couch. Tonight will be over much too soon if we go fast so we tease each other and tumble around on the floor. We roll onto our sides, then I’m on top, then he’s on top. I set my mouth and hands to his body in case this might be the last time for a while, and I feel him doing the same thing. My mind is so focused on him, every nerve attuned to the feeling of his body against mine. We are a knot of limbs, I feel him everywhere. The inside of his arm touches my ribs where he props himself on his elbow, his thigh is lying across mine, the warm skin of his stomach pushed against mine with every breath he draws, one hand cradles my neck as we kiss, his hips rock slightly against mine as he unconsciously seeks friction.

But at the same time, this torrent of sensations is not enough. Desire tingles through me as I recall what he said about wanting to eat me alive. He settles between my legs and I realize how effortless that was. He gave some sign that I picked up on and somehow I understand what he wants and want it too. There was no discussion or anything, it was simply instinctual.

He kneels above me and I know he’s watching my face as he takes my growing erection in his hand. He props one of my legs up in the air and moves down between my knees. I’m about to remind him to get a condom but that’s not where his mouth goes. I gasp and jerk when he takes my balls into his mouth. He sucks on them and I cuss loudly, slamming the back of my hand on the floor above my head. My mind melts and begins to drip away as I feel the ends of his hair tickling my thighs and groin.

It’s a rude awakening when he pulls away and stands up. I open my eyes and growl at him, and he laughs a little.

“Don’t move!” he orders before dashing to the bedroom. I temporarily regain the ability to think and realize that the game is still on, the Mortal Kombat music playing unnoticed. I grope over to the TV and turn it off. He’s back in a flash with the necessary accessories.

“You moved,” he accuses and he lowers himself onto me again. His hand closes around my wrist. “You’re arm, it was here,” he says, pinning my arm above my head again and thrusting his hard cock against mine. I arch against him, overcome by the feeling. He takes advantage of my exposed throat, kissing up to my jaw and his breath rushes past my ear, ragged and unsteady.

“Heero…” he whispers thickly, “this might be...”

My eyes blink open. “No, don’t say it,” I plead as I pull my arm from his grip and touch his cheek. “Don’t say anything. Let’s just forget for right now.”

I interpret his deep moan as agreement and then he fills my mouth with that hot, strong tongue of his. I weave my fingers into his loose hair as we kiss and the movement of our bodies goes from unconscious to deliberate. Finally he reaches for the lube. Christ, I thought I was going to have to beg.

“Fingers?” he asks me. I swallow and nod. He’s got me so horny it probably won’t matter what he does to me, but it might help. His fingers feel about the same as they did the first time. He is careful but quick, wanting to get on to the next part, and I share this desire entirely. After two fingers, he rises up onto his knees and tears into a condom wrapper. My heart is racing like the first time, but I know it will feel good so I’m not nervous. I watch him roll the condom onto his stiff cock and admit that maybe I am a little nervous.

He kisses me as he positions himself. His entry hurts less than the first time and the feelings of pleasure surpass the pain sooner. Or maybe I just know what to expect. He does not need to ask me if I’m ok this time and I would not be able to answer him anyway. It amazes me how quickly he robs me of my ability to think and speak. Being with him this way is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. Sex always shuts my brain off but this is like total lock-down. He’s in control and I can lose myself completely. My mind is drowned, completely suffused in pleasure, leaving my body to move however it will. I clutch his shoulders and bury my hands in his hair. My legs bend and squeeze his waist and my hips push his rhythm to speed up.

He makes a noise in protest and withdraws slightly. “Shit, Heero, you’ll make me come too fast,” he pants. His hands come to rest on my hipbones, slowing me down. He straightens up and gets his knees under him, moving me so that my thighs are against his stomach. He starts to move slowly, exploring the advantages of this new arrangement. I can’t move in any way that really accomplishes anything, I can only react to what he does. He takes it long and slow. He speeds up a couple of times, only to drive me crazy by slowing down again.

I look up at him and our eyes meet. His travel down my body briefly, but return. Everything feels even more intense when he looks at me. That kind of thing has never been important to me before, but I try to hold his gaze as long as I can before another strike to my prostate sends me arching off the floor, eyes shut.

“God, Heero,” he whispers. One hand leaves my hip and runs reverently over my stomach and teases my aching cock.

“Ahh!” I cry out. “Please, Duo…”

“Oh, fuck,” he chokes and a shudder passes through him as he pulls back a bit. “Not yet,” he swallows. I’m panting loudly and can’t really think, so I communicate my disapproval by pushing his shoulder with the heel of my foot. He chuckles breathlessly and turns his head to bite at my leg.

A sudden, strong thrust that takes me by surprise and I’m sent sprawling again. With him kneeling above me, there is nothing to hold me down. He starts practically at zero and builds his momentum up slowly. I’m so wound up, everything feels good and it’s driving me right out of my mind. His hand continues to stroke my cock and I think maybe this time will be it. I’m more than ready. His movements escalate in strength and speed and I start to call his name, all but begging him to go on. He becomes the wild animal then, laying claim to my flesh. When I finally reach overload, my eyes snap wide open but I see nothing, as if an electric shock courses though my body. Orgasm rips through me and I am barely aware of his final thrusts and impassioned cries.

I can’t breathe. A heavy body rests its full weight on my chest. Trembling lips place quick, tender little kisses on my face and neck. My hands are caught above my head, fingers interlaced in his. My eyes blink and I manage focus on his face.

He smiles at me with hooded eyes. “Hi,” he says hoarsely.

I can only hum in response. “Oh,” he says apologetically and sits up off my chest, reluctantly letting my hands go. I take a deep breath and try to reconstruct my mind as I watch him shake his head and smooth his mane back. I slowly prop myself up on my elbows and I swallow, still questioning my ability to voice words.

“God damn,” I croak and wince at the soreness I feel up and down my abused spine.

“Ch,” he snorts, “yeah, when I can make you go all catatonic like you did to me, then you can say things like that.”

I just grunt at him and roll my shoulders. I’d say he did a pretty damn good job just now. I must have been out of it for a few minutes, I don’t recall him pulling out of me.

“I need a shower, how about you?” he asks, still struggling with his hair.

“Yeah, I don’t want to know how much junk I picked up from this carpeting,” I answer. He leans on the coffee table and manages to stand himself up. He wobbles a little and then offers his hand to me when he’s steady on his feet. He pulls me up and leads me by the hand to my bathroom.

We stand in the tub and he starts the water. He scrubs my back for me and then rest of my body. His touch is firm and sensual, I would be getting aroused right now if I hadn’t just had my brains fucked out on my living room floor 10 minutes ago. We switch places and I help him with his hair. When we are thoroughly clean, we get out and he stands at the sink to comb and dry his hair. I walk over and take the comb from him without asking and start to comb it for him.

“I feel like a little kid,” he laughs, looking at me in the mirror. “I haven’t had help with my hair since I was about five and still couldn’t wash it myself. It was even short then.”

I kiss his cheek and continue to comb the damp locks. “Why do you keep your hair so long, anyway?” I ask.

He shrugs and the comb scrapes the skin of his shoulders lightly. “No reason, really,” he says. “I used to scream bloody murder at haircuts when I was little. I just hated them, I don’t know why. I was a weird little kid. So Helen let me grow it longer as long as I took care of it and kept it out of the way. I trim it up now and then. I still don’t like doing it, but I don’t really want it any longer than this. The shag in front too,” he chuckles, “I need to see.”

“Did you get teased a lot for it?” I ask. I only encountered Duo and his school in ninth grade and by then everybody seemed pretty used to it.

“Yeah, middle school was the worst. So I just learned to snap back with funny one-liners or simply ignore it,” he says without any trace of resentment over it. “Now it’s sort of like a personality test. If someone is going to look at me and judge me or make assumptions about me just based on the length of my hair, they probably aren’t people I want to associate with anyway.”

“What if someone immediately judged that they liked it?” I ask, glancing up into the mirror.

He laughs, “You told me I looked like a girl!”

“Well, maybe I lied a little,” I say unable to hide a grin.

“Such an asshole,” he snorts.

“In case you weren’t aware, you don’t look like a girl now,” I say and slide one hand up his chest all the way to his chin and turn it so I can kiss him. He kisses me back until he withdraws and there is a silent pause. He looks down at the sink.

“Heero…” he says.

I wrap my other arm firmly around his waist, comb still in hand. He looks at me in the mirror and I look back at him.

“What if I don’t get the job?” he asks quietly.

“Well, then the Intern will throw a hissy fit they’ll never forget,” I promise as I release him and go back to combing his hair. It makes him laugh and I’m glad I managed to lighten the mood a bit.

“Intern Numero Uno better watch it and not get his ass fired,” he warns jocularly and takes the comb from me.

“They can’t fire him if he quits,” I counter.

“Well, that would be stupid. If this guy is such a genius, then he should know better than to ruin a good opportunity for himself,” Duo jokes.

“Exactly,” I reply, and my heart stops. Our eyes catch and we stare at each other in the mirror.  What am I saying?  Would I quit to be with Duo? I don’t know. I don’t know anymore.

Duo is perfectly silent. I don’t even hear him breathing. He turns around and when he faces me, he has a grin on his face.

“I really can’t imagine you having a hissy fit,” he laughs, poking me in the chest with the comb.

I smirk back and reply, “I guarantee you, it would be worse than anything you can imagine, and if they’re smart, they won’t have to find out.”