Story:               FAVOURITE WORK OF ART

Author:             FancyFigures (fancyfigures@hotmail.com)

Disclaimer:        I don’t own ‘em, wish I did, just enjoy writing about ‘em for free etc

Pairings:           1x2

Category:          POV, romance (ish)

Warnings:         Yaoi, lemon, PWP (unrepentant!)

Spoilers:           None

Notes:              Duo comes to realise that there are advantages to attending training sessions after all.  It all depends on the teacher, and on the subject matter…!

Feedback:         If you liked it, PLEASE let me know!

 

 

 

“God, not another training session!” I groaned, hearing Quat’s call from the room downstairs.  “That’s gotta be the third this week!  When does that guy ever let up?”

 

That guy “ hissed a voice in the doorway to my room, “- is me, and I won’t let up until you learn to master a few more basic principles of Gundam maintenance!”  Dear old Heero stood there, mouth set as grimly as always, arms tightly folded over his chest, in challenge to his least willing student.  Picture of a perfect tutor, ha ha! Amazing, how he considers himself the only one who can pass on information correctly.  I have plenty of information I could pass on to him, though I guess that isn’t exactly relevant to our battle experience.  Makes me smile to think of it, though …

 

He sounded pretty angry; he wasn’t meant to have seen my instinctive smirk.  “Duo, the hydraulics nearly failed in the last mission, after that irresponsible landing of yours.  You’ve not done a decent overhaul for months now.  And I’ve got some really good new ideas on how to tighten up the swing on the scythe…”

 

“Yeah, yeah…” I muttered.  Heero was right, of course.  That just made me all the more obstreperous, though.  “So – you wanna start straight away?  Like, now?”

 

He scowled at me, lounged out on my bed with the latest copy of Games Master.  Dammit, I hadn’t even braided my hair up properly yet; great chunks of freshly washed hair were snuggling round my neck and shoulders.  And I’d seen no reason to change out of my usual sleeveless vest and sleep shorts.  I’d rolled out of bed early enough to grab a coffee and toast, then I’d just rolled back in, and spent most of the day similarly.  What else are summer weekends for?

 

“Like – we’ve all been waiting for the last half hour for you to join us,” he snapped.  Voice could cut metal, I reckon.  Scraped down my spine like fingers on a board.  Just like he intended, I daresay.

 

“‘Kay, ‘kay, I’m there!” I snapped back, unfolding myself off the narrow bed.  I stretched up to twist my hair up into some semblance of order, and glared back at him.  What was up with him, staring at me like that?  “So stop eyeballing me and take me to the show, Teach!”

 

 

***

 

 

Heero had moved back the dining table and set up an overhead projector screen out of his laptop.  The others all turned to stare at me as I ambled in.  They were sat – like toy soldiers, I’d say – in a row of chairs, facing the blank wall.  Wufei snorted disapprovingly.  I flipped them all the finger, and dragged the only spare chair out of the line and up against the side wall.

 

Heero turned the laptop on; simultaneously there was a soft whirr of machinery warming up, and a large, white square projected up on to the dining room wall.  Guess who was this afternoon’s main feature!  Deathscythe – and his haphazard pilot, Duo Maxwell!  I stared at the diagram up on the wall – it was very detailed, and showed only one area of the hydraulics.  But I recognised it.  Bet Heero would never have guessed I did!  And I had to admire the work that had gone into the slide.  It was clearly drawn and well labelled – and had pinpointed the very area that needed attention.  A perfect work of art, albeit a technical one.  Any other time, I would’ve whistled appreciation.  From the Death Glare I could feel boring into the back of my skull, I didn’t think it’d be appreciated today.

 

“You’ve not missed much, Heero wanted to wait for you to come down.”  Damn that Trowa – he looked embarrassingly enthusiastic.  He can carry it off, and still look cool.  If I get that excited, I look like a kid about to wet his pants. 

 

“It’s a really good presentation today,” he nodded at me.  Had a sheaf of papers in his hand.  Quatre had a smart clip file; Wufei a palmtop.  Oh my God… I groaned to myself.  The notes I’d taken so far this week could be fitted on to the back of a Pokemon card.  Was I gonna be tested on all this?

 

Trowa was pressing on, regardless of my sour expression.  Probably because of. 

 

“We were just saying how Heero’s CAD software has really opened up new possibilities.  This ability to display any part of the Gundam in the schematics that he’s drawn up -  he can project it right here and we can run through the diagram together.  We’ve been able to examine where we might want to make modifications – where the problems may be.”  Yeah – like the others have potential modifications, and I have problems.  I hear what you’re saying, Trowa!

 

But I relented.  It was good to be with the guys, after all.  I sighed, and braced myself against the side of the dining table, tilting the chair back against the wall.  I saw Heero look down at my legs – long, browned, stretched out from the flimsy sleep shorts.  My favourite blue ones.  He should be honoured! 

 

I brazened it out for a coupla seconds, then I felt my naked toes starting to curl a little under his disapproving gaze.  I coughed.  I lifted my legs off the table, one then the other, dropped the chair to the floor with a thump, and crossed my arms across my chest.

 

“OK, shoot!” I said, cheerfully.

 

***

 

The training session had gone from boring to tedious to soporific.  For me, anyway.  Though – OK, let’s face it – I’m the world’s worst pupil.  I won’t be told, Sister Helen used to say.  Well, that’s not strictly true; I will be told – lots of stuff! -  but it’s a miracle if I actually take any notice of it.  Or I do – but I adapt and bastardise it so much that no-one would notice the connection.

 

What am I trying to say?  I’m trying to justify the fact that I fell asleep on that stupid, uncomfy chair, and slipped against the table.  It jolted the laptop – the picture on the wall shuddered – the connection sprang out – well, you can picture the reactions of the faithful.  Let alone the Master himself!

 

So now I was back in my room like a naughty school kid.  I’d been banned from the lounge and the TV ‘n all, because at the volume I watch it, it would be a ‘distraction’ to the training.  Distraction - my middle name, I guess.  I’d sorted some piles of washing out from the clean clothes.  I’d checked out two packs of cards and found both of them missing the 4 of hearts. I kicked my PS2 a coupla times, but it’d never really worked properly in this room.  I flicked a coupla pages of the Games Master. 

 

Yeah, I was restless today!

 

I’d taken to sleeping/living in the spare room next door to Heero.  We used to share the room he’s in, because it was large enough for two guys to store all their stuff and still have space to run a PS2/laptop each.  But since he’s gotten so obsessed with this presentation bug, he’s been staying up all hours, tapping away, projecting stuff on the bedroom wall.  The flickering lights were driving me crazy, to say nothing of his little grunts of frustration, and his hiccups of pleasure when something went right.  Guess he never knew I was listening and watching so closely.  He’ll never know how much I actually have learned, just from watching him pore over those schematics ‘n all!  I know Deathscythe a damn sight better than he’ll give me credit for.  At least to the extent I know the names of which bits are gonna fall off!

 

He’d certainly looked a bit surprised when I said I’d sleep elsewhere for a while.

 

And I can’t say I enjoyed it entirely.  I mean, I got a whole lot more hours’ sleep, but I think I’d gotten used to his breathing in the background at night – his occasional snuffles.  The cute, bony toes on the end of his foot when it flopped out from under the covers.  The warmth from his body whenever I had to reach over him to the corner cupboard, and grab another blanket.

 

Hell, I missed that rather a lot.

 

So I had to lie and dream instead.  On my lonesome.

 

Might do that now.  I wasn’t gonna be called by anyone downstairs for a while now.  Not until Heero had calmed down.  Not until they’d all been comatosed by electrical connections and cable installations.

 

Guess I fell asleep with a smile on my face.  That, and my hand snugly inside my shorts. That’s what happens, more often than not.

 

***

 

The evening didn’t get much better.  I don’t know what was bugging me, but I couldn’t settle.  Wufei had snapped at me to keep still while he was watching TV, and Quat had winced at my tuneless whistling.  Even Trowa had flinched when I dropped my fork for the third time at supper.  Heero hadn’t shown much interest in me or my antics at all.  Perhaps I was still in disgrace.  Or he was just too eager to rush away back to his graphics.  He vanished up the stairs just after ten.

 

Not that I was bothered what he did, of course.

 

I followed not long after, though it was obscenely early for me to go to bed.  Perhaps Wufei’s stew had upset my delicate stomach.  Or Quat’s choice of music in the kitchen had jarred – I mean, Wagner over the washing up?!

 

Anyway, I drowsed on and off for a coupla hours.  Heard the others going to bed.  Slipped on my headphones and blasted some heavy rap until it hammered me into unconsciousness.  Next I knew, I was peeling part of the equipment out of permanent residence in my left ear, and a glance at the clock showed it was around 3am. 

 

I groaned, and stretched, and popped some joints noisily.  It was warm in the house tonight – I’d just thrown on the sleep shorts and nothing else.  My usual dream had been a little steamier than I would’ve liked; I appeared to be fighting off a damned uncomfortable erection.

 

And then I heard noises from next door.  Damn man was still up and working, at this hour!

 

I was fairly scratchy myself – I don’t take well to having my sleep disturbed.  I hauled myself out of the bed.  I’d go right in there, tell him to shut the fuck up, turn off the bloody technicals, and go to sleep!  Then we could all have a proper rest.

 

Yeah, I’d do that straight away!

 

***

 

 

 

Well – what can I say?

 

I stood, frozen in mid stride, at the doorway of Heero’s bedroom, the door half ajar and giving me a fine view into the room.  There were no lights on, but there was a soft, buzzing glow from his laptop screen.  He sat on the side of the bed, his back to me, and he was staring at the far wall.  So I did the same.  The laptop was projecting again, it seems.

 

My mouth musta dropped open with surprise.  It was the most unusual diagram of a Gundam I’d seen – and, believe me, Heero Yuy had shown us plenty that week.

 

In fact, it wasn’t a Gundam at all.  It was projected over almost all of the far wall of the bedroom; expanded to a size much larger than he’d used for our presentations downstairs.  This meant it was rather pale on the white painted background; but still perfectly clear enough to see the relevant details.

 

It was a picture of me!

 

It looked like it’d been taken of me while I was asleep, ‘cos I was lying down.  The background of artfully crumpled cloth looked like the usual state of my bedspread.  I wore nothing except the sleep shorts – the blue ones.  Arms high above my head; one leg bent up, the other stretched outside the covers.  Heero used to sneer that he couldn’t see how I could sleep in that position.  Had he taken this picture to prove the point to me?

 

But there was something wrong with the picture.  Yeah – my eyes weren’t closed in sleep at all.  A bit shocked, I realised what he’d done.  He’d cut and pasted a picture of my ‘awake’ head on to my ‘asleep’ body!  It was a pretty good job, though.  When I peered a bit more closely, I could recognise the head and shoulders from a photo Quatre took last summer.  I’d just lost my hat in the breeze – my hair was looking a little the worse for wear, and the ends of the braid were flapping round my shoulders.  Just like I looked this morning when he came into my room.  But unlike this morning, I was grinning, and looking full into the camera – I think I was threatening Quatre at the time with lifelong disembowelment if he didn’t put the damn camera down and help me catch my latest fashion accessory; it had cost me all of five dollars!

 

I looked kinda cute, though I say so myself.  And I guess it looked like I was grinning and staring straight at the viewer.  At Heero.

 

And I guess Heero must’ve thought the same, to keep and use a copy of the photo.

 

Well, well, well…!

 

 

***

 

I drew back into the shadows of the doorway; dying to look more closely, but determined not to advertise myself just yet.

 

For there was an even more amazing sight to be seen inside the room!

 

Heero hadn’t moved at all while I stood there.  If I leant against the far doorframe, I could see his profile in the half-darkness.  He was dressed for bed, or so I supposed.  He had loose sweats on, and no vest or socks.  The soft light from the projection lit his bare skin with a luminous halo effect.  The barely audible hiss of the projector itself filled the room, and hid whatever sounds he had been making.

 

He looked very, very delicious.  Damn good looking, of course, with that stern, classic face; huge, dark eyes.  The dusky, sleek skin that always looks so warm.  Plump little lips – that is, when he wasn’t gritting his teeth in the face of my annoying habits.   Luscious little lips, indeed…. I could feel an awkward stirring in my own shorts.

 

I was forced to admit to myself that many of those times I’d crept to the edge of his bed to reach a blanket, I’d really just been drawn to have a gratuitous ogle at his body.  A slim, tight, gorgeous body!  Long, powerful legs, all the way up from toes to thigh.  I blessed the nights he slept in shorts rather than sweats.  I’d be able to gawk at that exciting, gently sloping bulge between his legs – follow the trail of hair below his navel, and catch a glimpse of the sparse little black curls at the end.  Feel my fingers twitch in frustration at the sight of the perky little nipples on that hard, muscular chest, with his arms held always at his side; strong arms that only relaxed at night. 

 

Tonight, though, those arms were clutching rather tightly at the bedclothes beneath him.  And as for the clear, handsome profile of his face, topped as always with that shock of unruly black hair; his face seemed almost frozen in its concentration. 

 

I wasn’t sure why he was so tense.

 

I found out very shortly after.

 

***

 

He made another of the sounds that I’d heard from next door.  A strange kinda – whimper.

 

Then he moved.  Not his attention – no, he kept on staring at the picture of me.  But his hand came up from the bed and reached to his neck.  He spread out his fingers.  He stroked his neck.  As I watched with fascination, his head stretched back, baring his neck to the touch.  He let out a long breath.  The fingers slid down to his chest.  I could only see one side from my vantage point, but – I thanked God more than a coupla times that night – that was the side he chose to fondle.

 

His fingertips twisted around his nipple, and I swear I could see it strain up in the dim light, responding to him.  He lifted his hand to his mouth, licked around the fingers.  Then he was back on duty, teasing the hot, chocolate brown little nub.  Yeah, I know what colour it is. 

 

I’d never seen such a thing before.  Heero Yuy – playing with himself!  I’d never seen any evidence of his sexual needs, either being met or not.  I can’t say it was ever part of our daily conversation, more’s the pity.  Damn, he’d often nearly caught me in the middle of a good comfort session!  I always got a little too heated in the shower, using up all his shower gel and imagining where it had been before me; that usually ended up with me jerking off against the tiles.  Then there were all those times he’d be wandering round the bedroom in next to nothing, and I’d just creep away to have a fondle and a fisting, just holding that vision in my horny young mind, until I was gasping and shuddering on the bed (or the toilet, or behind some corner of the kitchen, wherever I could get some privacy), and making another mess of my vest  -

 

Anyway – enough of my more than healthy libido!  You’d think I’d have got used to him around, wouldn’t you – built up some kinda immunity?  But no… there’s something about Heero Yuy that’s really got into my bones.  He’s something special

 

He was leaning back on his other hand, obviously trying to get more comfortable.  I just spied, sweated, and prayed that he continued.

 

He did.

 

He licked his fingers a few more times – I could see the silhouette of a thin trail of saliva when he pulled them out.  Then he slid his hand further down his body, and into his lap.

 

Down… down… groaned my obscene, voyeuristic, aching little mind.

 

He was tugging at the waist of the sweats with the other hand – pulling them down over his hips.  I couldn’t help but see that he had nothing on underneath ‘em.  He was obviously wriggling to loose himself - to loose his cock from its prison.  I thought I might pass out when it sprang out into his expectant hand.  Even in the shadowy light, it looked big, and shining, and more than erect.  It was towering!  And the hand – the damp one – was grasping it like it was the king of all joysticks.  He let out a gasp then.  A very satisfying one.  And began to stroke it.  Firmly.

 

I wondered who’d turned up the heating, because surely we didn’t need it at this time of year.  I could feel the rivulets of sweat on my neck – down the side of my face.  By some amazing coincidence, my own hand was to be found inside my shorts.  Clutching a very hard, very swollen, very painful cock of my own.

 

I stood there, scarcely breathing.  Stroking in time with my very own, very, very wet dream.