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"You shot me!" It didn't matter that it'd been an accident, and it didn't matter that it was probably the least severe gunshot wound Duo had ever had; the fact of the matter was that Heero fucking Yuy had shot him. And it hurt.
"Quit complaining." And the fact that Heero was, at the very least, acting completely unrepentant was icing on the indignant cake. "What's the phrase? 'Turnabout's fair play'?"
Oh, come on! "That was years ago! You were threatening a civilian! You can't still be mad about that."
"I still have the scars, ya know." And he did, little holes from where the two bullets had gone through his thigh and bicep. Honestly, with how little Heero scarred at all, it was a little surprising he had even those after all these years. His self-detonation had barely left a mark on him, but two little bullets? It was almost romantic.
"Oh boohoo, I've kissed them better enough times; quit being a big baby. You fucking shot me today, Heero."
"Who's being a baby?" Duo was still pretty sure it was Heero, bringing up a years-old incident where he'd deserved to get shot; thank you very much. He'd been acting like a ten-cent-novel crime villain, for fucks sake, and acting like it wasn't ancient history was peak' big baby' behavior. Before Duo could tell his partner any of that, though, Heero squeezed his shoulder hard and dumped a full bottle of water over the wound, rinsing away the blood and debris on the surface. At that point, Duo was too busy cursing a blue streak to say much of anything else.
No matter how many times he went through the rigamarole of field dressing a wound, he never got used to it. Heero, on the other hand, took it like the soulless freak he sometimes pretended was his actual personality. At least he didn't go about setting his own broken bones and throwing himself out of buildings anymore. Small victories.
The water was fucking cold, though, and even if it didn't burn the way disinfectant would, it still hurt like a bitch. "Damnit, Heero! Warn a guy!" he hissed, and the briefest flicker of emotion crossed Heero's features, worry or sympathy maybe, before those pretty blue eyes were refocused on the task at hand, using a piece of sterile gauze he'd already unwrapped to wipe the blood away. "Now my pants are soaked, too; you're the worst." He ignored Duo's sulking much like he usually did: with extreme prejudice. He didn't even have the decency to roll his eyes or grumble about it.
At least that wasn't unusual behavior. Heero may not have been the stoic, emotionless, unfeeling automaton he pretended to be back when they were piloting their Gundams, but he still kept his feelings under wraps. It was probably partially out of habit at this point. Duo was better than most at reading his moods, but that didn't mean he knew what all of his little tells meant.
There was something about his expression, though. Maybe it was the slight pinch in his brow, his perpetual frown a little more prominent than usual — his resting bitch face more troubled than pissy, — or the way he wouldn't meet Duo's gaze for more than a second at a time. Sometimes not even that long. Something was going on under the surface.
His hand even stayed a moment too long on Duo's arm, thumb brushing just shy of the sensitive, irritated flesh of the wound. Then, he moved to grab the packaged battle dressing from the field medical kit he'd gotten from Duo's go-bag. Heero’s own bag was still by the door, with his medicine bag tucked inside and the gun he'd used thrown on top of spare clothing, waiting to be cleaned and put away.
Duo's bag had been brought into the bathroom with them and now had its contents half-dumped across the tile floor. Heero hadn't taken the time to pull out the first-aid kit until he'd gotten Duo sitting in the shower, water that had been left clinging to the drain from that morning's shower soaking into the seat of his pants, and his shirt sleeve cut away so he could get a good look at the wound. Heero had been panicking — not that anyone could tell from how he'd acted, not unless they knew him, at least. He'd fallen back on his mission-focused, 'nothing can distract me from my objective,' no-nonsense training, and nothing was going to get him out of it until he was finished.
The fact he'd taken a moment — even an ounce of mental effort — to banter with Duo in the meantime was leagues better than he'd been even right after the war, back when Heero wouldn't have said a word until he was done.
Duo, at least, was always willing to fill the silence. "Ya know, I liked this shirt. You didn't have to ruin it twice." He hadn't really felt much of anything about the shirt, but it'd looked good on him and was drab enough to let him blend in among ordinary folk, so he wasn't lying when he said he liked it. Heero didn't even respond this time.
By the time Heero was done, dressing wrapped from his armpit to just above his elbow — a little bit overkill if anyone asked the patient — Duo's legs were starting to go numb. He'd been sitting on the acrylic floor of the shower for a while now, and he wasn't looking forward to standing when Heero finally let him. His legs probably wouldn't hold him up until the pins-and-needles feeling passed. Oh, well. Nothing for it but to get it over with.
Only Heero didn't move to let him up. Instead, he ran a rough, warm hand down from the bottom of the dressing, curling his fingers around Duo's and then moving to do the same with his other hand. The rinse he'd done to irrigate the wound, and the gauze he'd used to dry around it, had left Duo mostly clean, but he hadn't bothered cleaning his own hands. Now, the blood he'd gotten all over them from cleaning and bandaging Duo was being passed back to him, growing sticky as it dried.
He nearly asked what was wrong, but bit his tongue, only letting a soft noise past his lips. Heero was still getting used to allowing himself to be gentle, letting himself go for what he wanted, even after all this time. Questioning him left him self-conscious and reluctant to do it again. He was surprisingly fragile like that, no matter how much he liked to pretend.
Instead, they sat there, holding hands in silence. Heero ran his fingers over Duo's calluses, specifically on his trigger fingers and thumbs, the heel of his palm, gently touching the scar on his right hand where he'd been bit by the slide of a gun years ago. All the gentle touches, specifically where he was putting them, had Duo feeling he knew where all the thoughtful melancholy was coming from. When Heero brought his hand up to brush his lips over his trigger finger, Duo figured there were only two options.
"Heero… hey, you know I'm not really mad about you shooting me, right?" he said quietly, soothingly, pulling the hand in Heero's grip free so he could cup his cheek instead. He let his injured arm stay down, their hands resting on his thigh. Heero still didn't look at him, but he nuzzled gently into Duo's palm, eyes fluttering shut. That little pinched frown was still there, he still looked troubled, and Duo was beginning to realize he'd guessed wrong. Well, he'd had a 50/50 chance. If shooting him wasn't what was bothering him, then…
They sat there for a moment longer, long enough for the pins-and-needles sensation to turn to straight numbness before Duo finally realized he wasn't going to find the perfect words, so he might as well just start talking, "Heero, I—"
Heero cut him off, voice somehow steady and raw at the same time. "You killed that man," he breathed, eyes opening but gaze distant.
So Duo was right, the second time, if not the first. He sighed, leaning back. The shift of his weight had a sudden rush of blood back down his leg, sharp pain and stinging needles shooting through him. He tried to hide the wince, but Heero caught it like he caught anything, eyes snapping to his, then scanning over him like he was looking for another injury.
"Easy, Heero. Easy. I'm fine; my legs are just going to sleep—" Gone to sleep, more like. "— so how about we take this conversation somewhere else, huh?" He kept his tone coaxing — playful — as he brushed his thumb over Heero's cheekbone and down along the strong angle of his jaw. He guided him back to look at him again, giving him a reassuring smile, before he drew him in to nudge a soft, chaste kiss to his lips. He only got a moment to enjoy it before Heero turned away.
He tried not to let that hurt his feelings; he knew it had nothing to do with him and everything to do with the brewing storm that was Heero's emotions. Still, it stung to be rejected.
Heero pushed himself up first, putting a hand on the tiled wall to balance himself before he reached down to grab Duo, fingers wrapped tight around the forearm on his uninjured side. He braced, letting Duo pull himself up; otherwise, he might have just wrenched the shoulder right out of the socket. He had a tendency not to remember how much restraint he needed to show when handling others when he was upset. He didn't let go immediately once Duo was on his feet, and man was he stupidly thankful for it.
For a moment, the pain of sensations starting to come back to his legs was more than Duo could stand. He held onto Heero for dear life, breathing in with a sharp hiss through gritted teeth and clenching his eyes shut. He felt Heero watching as he shifted his weight, rotating one ankle, then the other. He even kicked the ground a few times with each foot, trying to force blood to start moving. Eventually, when Duo felt like he could stand without howling in pain or his legs crumpling out from under him, he nodded and let Heero go.
Again, Heero hesitated a moment too long before letting go.
Neither spoke until they were back in the bedroom, sitting side by side on the single bed, so close their shoulders were touching. Even while Duo stripped out of his wet and ruined clothes, struggling to pull on a loose t-shirt, boxers, and shorts, they said nothing. Getting into dry clothes made Duo feel better, at least. While he was dressing, Heero washed the blood from his hands, tossing a wet rag to let Duo do the same.
Finally, when they were settled, Duo slipped his hand into Heero's again, holding it firmly, even though the effort Heero put into pulling away, for the briefest of moments, was barely anything at all. If he wanted Duo to let go, he was more than capable of making him. He brushed his thumb across Heero's knuckles, along the matching calluses on his trigger finger.
Finally, after a minute more of the suffocating silence, Duo broke it, "Yeah, Heero. I killed him. He was going to kill you." He looked over at his partner, watching his frown deepen, the furrow in his brow going a little more pinched. Before he could protest, though, he continued, "and before you ask, no, I couldn't have just injured him. I had a clear shot, and I was going to take it."
Heero side-eyed him, his troubled look turning to an all-out scowl, and sometimes, he wanted to forget just how little Heero valued his own life, even now. It broke Duo's heart every time. "We don't need to kill anymore," he growled, voice low and dangerous.
They were long past that scaring Duo if it ever had. "You don't need to kill anymore. You'll never have to ever again; I'll make sure of that." Duo turned to face him, reaching up to cup the back of Heero's neck and force him to do the same, reeling him in. He made Heero meet his gaze, pressing their foreheads together and holding tight when his lover tried to yank away on instinct, making it so he couldn't do it without meaning to.
That scowl turned to a full glare as Heero reached up to grab Duo's forearm, not pulling it away, not yet, but squeezing tight enough it might bruise. He didn't let the pain show, though. They needed to have this serious conversation right now, and if he let on that Heero was hurting him, it'd derail the whole thing. "You don't have to either," he insisted, putting the same force behind his words back when he tried to order Duo around back during the war. It didn't work then, and it didn't work this time.
Instead, Duo closed his eyes a moment, tipping his head back as he prayed to all the gods he didn't believe in for patience. "If it saves somebody? If it saves you? I'll do it." The grip on his arm tightened, "I'll do it for you," then it fell away entirely. When Duo looked at him again, those big blue eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open like he was shocked.
"Duo…"
Duo couldn't help but laugh, seeing Heero so surprised. "Careful there, Heero. You'll catch flies with your mouth hanging open like that." He leaned in to brush their lips together, chaste and quick, and Heero blushed and turned away, pulling right out of his grip.
"You're an idiot…" he huffed, face red to his ears and creeping down his neck. He brushed his thumb along Duo's inner arm, up to his sensitive inner wrist — touching simply for the comfort's sake like he usually did when they were alone. It was one of his little comforts, something that calmed him. It'd started with playing with his braid, something he could do behind Duo's back that maybe he wouldn't notice, but having lived with his mane for so long and survived the rough streets of the colonies with it, he didn't have a chance on that front — he knew when someone was touching his hair, had a near sixth sense for it. After getting express permission, Heero was much less secretive about it, but he still didn't do it around other people.
"Yeah, but I'm your idiot," Duo teased, moving his hand to cup Heero's jaw and leaning in one more time to brush a playful kiss to his cheek. He lingered, pushing his fingers into Heero's hair before draping it over his shoulder, bussing his nose along his jaw. "Lemme bear the burden on this one, Heero. Lemme protect you from this, at least," he murmured, lips brushing his lover's cheek with every word.
The sound Heero made was unhappy but relenting, and he let go of Duo's hand and arm so he could wrap both arms around his middle, hugging tightly. He buried his face in the loose wisps of hair at the base of the braid where it'd started coming undone, breathing deeply. He probably smelled like sweat and blood, and Heero didn't smell much better, but they both knew how oddly comforting that familiarity was sometimes. Maybe that made them a little cracked in the head, but what else was new?
Within just a few moments, Heero had relaxed, leaning his weight into Duo, one hand curled loosely in the back of his shirt, the other twining his fingers through the locks of hair just above the tie for his braid. And, just like that, all of the tension and stress drained from Duo, too, from the whole room.
Honestly, if Duo were anyone else, he would have just enjoyed the moment — let them both relax after the stressful, emotional talk. But the fact of the matter was: he wasn't anyone else, and it just wouldn't be them if he didn't ruin the moment.
"You know, I'm still kinda ticked you shot me," he muttered into Heero's hair, grinning and hiding it in messy dark spikes.
Heero snorted, voice muffled from not pulling away when he answered, "I didn't even know you were there; you were on the other side of a wall. They'll take care of it when we get home." He pulled back to give Duo an extremely dull and put-upon look when he added, "and you said you weren't mad about it."
He wasn't even trying to hide the grin anymore. "Nuh-uh, I said I wasn't really mad about it. I'm kinda mad, though." He leaned against him, putting all his weight into it to push Heero back onto the pillows. It wasn't how he'd meant it at the time, but splitting hairs wasn't lying, and teasing Heero was too fun to worry about semantics like that. "So, you're gonna make it up to me."
The suspicious look Heero gave him out of the corner of his eye as Duo rolled off of him onto his back was mostly for show. He never asked for anything outlandish when he wanted Heero to 'make it up to him,' and this time would be no different. The main reason he said that kind of shit was to get those little suspicious looks — to get under his partner's skin in small, inconsequential ways. It was a hobby.
Now that they were lying side by side, Heero had to sit up, bracing himself on one hand, to keep looking at him, and Duo held his good arm out wide to beckon him in. "C'mere." His cheeky grin got Heero to roll his eyes, but he still gave in, shifting to pull both legs up on the bed so he could roll over. He laid his head on Duo's uninjured shoulder, one arm curled over his chest and their legs tangled.
He was a comforting weight, warm and heavy, and Duo found his eyes drifting shut as he curled his arm around to thread his fingers through the other's hair. He could definitely fall asleep like this, pain in his arm from the bullet lodged in the muscles be damned.
Too bad it didn't last long. Before long, Heero was squirming and pulling away, ducking out from under the hand in his hair. Duo was about ready to pout about it until he noticed Heero stripping for him. It wasn't a show, all of his movements surgically perfunctory, but Duo was damn sure going to enjoy it anyway.
Heero still looked as good as the day they met, but now that they were adults — or rather, now that they knew their dicks from their elbows and weren't so emotionally stunted and/or traumatized to make focusing on anything but the mission laughably ridiculous — Duo could finally really appreciate it. And he did, often, in fact. His lover had a great ass, broad shoulders, a nice dick, and the kind of physique that belonged in underwear ads and model photoshoots.
Besides that, he was strong-willed, talented, insanely competent, could fieldstrip an m9 in under fifteen seconds, was a hell of a lot smarter than he acted, and had a wicked sense of humor if you knew what you were looking for. All things considered, Heero Yuy was pretty much the guy of Duo's dreams, no matter how often they butted heads. Hell, maybe that was part of the appeal.
When he sat back on the bed again to pull off his socks and shoes, Duo reached out to run an appreciative hand over his back, tracing his fingertips up his spine. Heero stopped, only for a second or so, then went back to what he was doing. It'd taken a long time to get to that point — to where he didn't jump at unexpected touches, and that was after months of trying to get past the guy's reflexive urge to do physical harm to those who touched him suddenly. Now, that only happened after bad days and nightmares.
If Duo's chest went a little funny when he thought of how he'd been the one to help Heero get to this point, the one Heero trusted with his little moments of vulnerability, physical or emotional, he figured he was allowed that much. He loved this man so much; it was only right he got to feel a little sappy about being part of his healing.
No matter how much he loved him, though, Duo couldn't help being a little shit to him. He slid his fingers back down the slope of his back, tripping over the knobs of his spine on his way down to the dimples on either side of his spine, just above the line shorts. He hummed, pressing his thumb to one side, his middle finger to the other, then grinned and hooked his fingers into the elastic of his waistband. He pulled back, then let it snap back into place with a sharp slap!
The glare Heero shot him over his shoulder was worth everything, especially when it got an exasperated edge at seeing Duo's unrepentant grin.
Duo gave him an obvious once-over, leering. When he caught Heero's gaze again, he winked. "Hey, good looking." He wasn't the least bit shy about how much he liked looking at his lover, and with the way it made color collect high up in Heero's cheeks, delicate and sweet in all the ways he pretended he wasn't? Well, how could he resist?
Huffing, Heero shook his head, turned back to finish with his boots and socks before climbing back onto the bed. He crawled to Duo, swinging one leg over him and planting both hands on Duo's chest. Warm, heavy hands pressed down against him, Heero's knees pressed gently into his sides, and those muscular thighs tucked up against him.
It was awfully forward of him, and even with his ass parked on Duo's abdomen, too high up for Duo to get anything out of it, it had him getting excited. He moved to put his hands on those thighs, but his injured arm protested, rudely reminding him just how bad of an idea moving his his injured arm was. He hissed, wincing, and Heero gave him an almost sympathetic look.
"Don't gimme that look," he laughed, running his palm up over Heero's thigh appreciatively and hooking his thumb into the leg, pulling up the tight fabric as he splayed his fingers over the muscles. A different kind of tension was building between them, making Duo squirm as all his partner did was look. "Hey… you gonna make it up to me like this?" he asked breathlessly.
Heero hummed, seeming to consider it. His hands shifted, brushing down to Duo's ribs as he looked him over before returning to press his palms flat over his pecs as he met his gaze again. He didn't say anything, just leaned in close, letting more and more of his weight bear down on his lover. Even without the weight, Duo would have had trouble breathing under that intense focus. He stopped, lips just a hair's breadth from touching — face so close, Duo could see the rings of darker blue on the inner and outer edges of his irises, the way his lashes fanned across his cheeks when he blinked, slow and intentionally heated.
The waiting was going to kill him; Duo was sure of it. Either that, or he was just going to suffocate. Heero's weight bearing down on him was heavy enough, but the suspense had him holding his breath. When it looked like Heero would lean in, tipping his head just so for a kiss, Duo tilted his head back and moved to meet him.
Instead, Heero leaned away with a mean smirk, and before he could protest, he darted in to press a chaste, teasing kiss to Duo's cheek. "Nope. You're injured," he said as he sprawled out, shifting half of his weight off Duo but laying his head back down on his good shoulder. Duo could only lie there, sputtering indignantly, weighed down by all that beautiful, naked muscle, their legs entangled, and his dick interested but undoubtedly about to be left disappointed.
"Come on, really?" he whined, and he was whining, even if he'd deny it if ever asked, and definitely pouted when he felt Heero press a smile into his shoulder. "Are you kidding me?"
"Nope." Unrepentant bastard! Duo had to laugh, though. It was either that or bitch about it, and that wasn't going to get him anywhere. Besides, Heero was warm, like his own personal heating blanket, and his hair was soft where it pressed to Duo's cheek and jaw when he nuzzled the side of his head. He wrapped the arm trapped under Heero around him — it'd be numb in a while, just like his legs were earlier — and settled his hand on Heero's firm ass.
It was kind of insulting that it only got him a little contented hum, but whatcha gonna do? Heero had made up his mind, and Duo was only ever a sucker for these moments of softness. "You're a jerk, you know that?" he teased, sighing in an exaggeratedly exasperated way, not bothering to hide the smile he knew Heero could hear.
"Yep. But I'm your jerk." Between the smug way he threw Duo's words back in his face, the gentle, affectionate squeeze of the arm around his middle, and the smile he hid in Duo's shoulder, it all had him in stitches. He laughed so hard his stomach hurt — for long enough that Heero eventually irritatedly jabbed his fingers between Duo's ribs, grumbling, "Quit it; you're hard to sleep on when you move so much."
"Sorry, sorry—" he wasn't, he never would be, "—but you only have yourself to blame." At least Heero didn't deny it. He only grumbled and mushed his face into Duo's shoulder more intently, and Duo was so damn happy.
Getting shot still sucked, but hey, he was willing to do a lot for Heero Yuy. Taking a bullet from him was nothing in comparison.