Disclaimer: I
don’t own ‘em, wish I did, just enjoy writing about ‘em for free etc
Pairings: 1x2
Category: Romance,
some angst
Warnings: Yaoi
Spoilers: None
Notes: Therapy isn’t always a medical
matter …
Feedback: If you liked it, PLEASE let me know!
Written for gwy’s
inspiration …
Heero stood
for a moment in the doorway, watching.
He knew that Duo hadn’t seen him yet.
The other man sat cross-legged on the carpet, his back to the door. There were three open books on one side of
him, two magazines on the other. He had
earphones on, his upper body swaying gently in time with whatever was playing
at the moment, and his hands busy leafing through the glossy pages. Heero watched the thick braid flick
carelessly along Duo’s left side, then spring back towards the right as he
jerked to the beat of his music. Occasionally
a few notes would burst out as he sang along.
They weren’t particularly tuneful, but they were bold.
Heero
smiled. It had been quite some time
since Duo had sung along to anything.
He took a
few steps into the room, carrying the hot tea carefully. He moved to the side of Duo so that he’d be
seen. Only once had he approached Duo
from behind: Duo had reacted swiftly and aggressively, not realizing for that
split second who was there. Heero had lost a couple of good china mugs
that day, and still had the pale mark of a scald on his forearm. Duo had apologized for almost a week, until
Heero persuaded him to shut up. It had
been another couple of days before the wary scowl had left Duo’s face.
Heero
wasn’t exactly counting the days that Duo had been with him, but his heart
seemed to have the imprint of their pattern.
Duo looked
up at the movement, saw him and grinned. It was an easy smile, but Heero noticed how
his hand darted to the nearest magazine, flipping it shut. He peeled the earphones out of his ears. “Hi.
Thanks for the tea. I was going
to come and do some breakfast for us.”
Heero shook
his head gently. “No need.” Duo forgot time more easily nowadays – he
couldn’t always hold perspective well in his thoughts and words. Things were getting better by the day, of
course. That was another measure that Heero
was counting. “Do you want to use the
desk? I can move my stuff to one side.”
Duo sat
back, sipping at the tea. “Nah. Just browsing. Nothing important. Just keeping myself occupied until I go back to work.”
Heero
caught the reply before it even formed on his lips, though his eyes may have flickered their concern.
He knew it’d be some months before Duo went back to work. Maybe he was worried for his house guest’s
sake … maybe there were other, more personal reasons that he wasn’t.
“Can I see
what you were looking at?”
Duo
frowned. He so obviously wanted to say
‘no’ – this nervous secrecy had been characteristic, ever since he was released
from hospital. Heero was meant to try to
draw him back out, to facilitate the healing process. He met Duo’s wary look this morning and knew
that he had no real interest in the doctor’s medical instructions – he just
wanted to talk to Duo in the old ways again.
Duo nudged
the magazine with his toe and it opened again.
Heero was startled to see what looked like a fashion spread. Not only that …
“They’re
kimono. I didn’t know you had an
interest in them.”
Duo
shrugged, but his eyes darted to Heero’s face and back down again. “Sorry.
Bet you think I’m some kind of a stalker or something. It’s just that I saw yours and it fascinated
me. Wanted to know some more about ‘em.”
Engage him, the doctors had said to him, their
eyes narrow with the caution that comes with diagnosing mental conditions,
their clipboards pressed to their chests like shields that proved a poor defence against the force of Heero Yuy’s
surprising distress. The disorientation will pass, as the drugs
they used on him work through his system.
But he needs to be encouraged back into the reality you both
shared. He needs to be stimulated again,
by people he knows and respects.
Heero sat
slowly down beside him. He was as close
as he dared go; close enough to see the muscle in Duo’s thigh clench, though
the other man tried to hide it by wriggling; far enough not to brush against
him without warning. Yet another daily
improvement: Duo let him take his arm now – let him sit on the same couch with
him. Heero found it astonishingly
rewarding, for all kinds of conflicting reasons.
“Would you
wear one yourself?”
It was
Duo’s turn to be startled, but not in a serious way. “Me?
It’s a Japanese thing, isn’t it …”
Heero’s turn to shrug, though he accompanied it with a smile.
“Not exclusively. I wear American
clothing, don’t I? Maybe neither of us
is entirely of one country, one place.” One home. “We can choose what
we want.”
Duo
nodded. “Maybe. I suppose I wonder what it must feel
like. Looks pretty
relaxed – pretty comfy.”
Heero stood
up and held out a hand for him. “Come
and try one on. I have several.”
Duo looked
at his hand. This time, Heero could see
he wanted to say ‘yes’. He would make it
easy for him to do so, and not because that was one of the strategies the
psychologists had advised, but because he wanted to make life easy for Duo Maxwell.
*
Duo stood
in front of the mirror and smiled. “It’s
cool. Feels good.” He wrapped the dark blue fabric around him,
left over right, just like he’d obviously read in the magazines, for Heero
hadn’t tried to instruct him. The hem
brushed at his thin ankles and bare feet: the wave pattern burst across the
fabric, as if the sea water washed over him.
Heero stood
carefully to one side, belting his own choice around him, watching Duo’s
delight. “It’s called a yukata,
it’s in a cooler cotton than the more formal kimono. It’s easy to wear around the house. People would wear it around the onsen –“
He saw Duo’s eyebrows rise, quizzically. “A hot spring. No, I don’t have one in the apartment.” Duo’s brief smile made his heart shiver with
pleasure. It had been a pathetic little
joke, really, but he avoided a more robust, cynical humour. “If you wore it out, you’d need geta, the Japanese sandals.
Also a proper belt, to keep yourself decent …” He bit his lip. Duo was particularly possessive of his body
at the moment. When he arrived, the
scars had been deep, the bruises colourful
– the vivid patterns on his pale skin a testament to something far from
beautiful.
But Duo was
nodding, apparently unworried.
“Cool. But I guess I can’t quite
carry it off like you do.” He looked
away from the mirror, suddenly catching Heero’s gaze. There wasn’t any time to glance away – Heero
met his eyes in the hope he wouldn’t be intimidated.
Duo
sighed. “I’m not made of china,
Heero. You can look at me if you like. I’m
not going to leap for your throat.” He
saw Heero’s troubled expression and grimaced.
“They think I might lapse back, don’t they? That, or leap ahead off an imaginary,
hallucinatory cliff. They’ll have told
you to keep me very calm – to treat me with kid gloves. I know what it’s about. Therapy … pity, maybe. Please don’t think I’m not grateful, though,
for your care …”
Heero
stepped forward, unable to stop himself.
“I don’t need gratitude. You’re
my friend, Duo. You’re here because I
want you with me – because I want you to have a place where you feel safe. Where you can heal more
quickly.” Where I can care for you.
Duo smiled
at him, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“I understand that healing has to happen. I just don’t feel it. Does that make sense?”
Heero
nodded. “That’s why I’m here. Not for them, Duo – the doctors, the
department. I’m here for you, so that you can see your
recovery. So that you can see you’ll be
the same man again, see your strength returning. So that you can see your defeat of them, of
the bastards who took you –“
“ – of
the ghosts,” Duo broke in. His eye were
wide, the pupils dilated.
Heero took
a deep breath. “The dreams will go,
too.”
“You know
that?” Duo challenged, though his voice was soft.
“Yes,”
Heero replied, staring back at him. “I
know, because I’ve had them too, in the past.
I know, because I sleep beside you.”
He saw Duo shiver and he put out a hand to his arm, instinctively. “Please.
I didn’t tell you, but I wanted to.
I hear you in the night and I want to …” He couldn’t find the right words: his
throat felt tight. “Every day your sleep
gets deeper – every day your rest is better.”
Duo’s eyes
were even wider. “How the fuck am I
meant to know that, Heero –“
“That’s why
you have me. Like I
said. I’m here as your
validation.”
They stared
at each other for moments longer, both of them breathing a little too
heavily. Heero still held his hand on
Duo’s arm, creasing the soft cotton fabric of the kimono. Duo’s feet shifted slightly, as if he wanted
to move away, but he stayed where he was.
A slight flush came to his cheeks.
When he
broke the silence, his words were calm again, though brittle. “So here I am, an all-American boy in a
borrowed Japanese gown. An alien …”
“No,” said
Heero, sharply. “No pity, Duo. Not from me, not from yourself. You’re better than that.”
Duo pulled
at his hand suddenly, tugging him beside him. Heero swallowed down the shock of his touch,
once so familiar, now so rare. They
stood together, looking into the mirror.
Matching kimono, Duo’s in a dark blue fabric, Heero’s a cool white with
the waves in black. As Heero caught the
other pair of eyes in the reflection, Duo smiled at him. It was a smile from the old days. Heero’s heart lost a couple of steps, then steadied again.
Duo turned
back to peer in the mirror. “Still say
you look better in it than me.” He was
smiling, but now there was a tiny flame of mischief in his expression. Heero could remember the last time Duo had
looked like that – could remember how he’d felt: how he’d sounded: how his skin
had tasted between his lips …
It hurt to
remember – but it was a hopeful hurt. He
laughed at himself for considering such a Duo
phrase.
“You look
fine,” he said aloud. “I like you
because you’re you, not because you’re like me.
Does that make sense?”
Duo
grinned. “Yeah. We’re more like each other than we ever thought.” He turned suddenly, facing back to
Heero. “I didn’t mean to imply you
pitied me. I know it’s not that.”
Heero
smiled, too. “Sure. Though I have to confess it’s not entirely
selfless, either.”
Duo peered
at him. “The treating
with kid gloves? Or the sleeping
with me?” The shoulder of his kimono had
slipped down his arm as he’d turned.
There’d been the glimpse of bare, muscled thigh as the cloth settled
back in place below his waist. Heero
looked into his eyes and saw that Duo knew he was watching – and that he
accepted it. That maybe - soon – he would
welcome more. Once again.
“You’re
what I need, Heero. You know that? You always have been.”
“I’m not
sure I’m the best fashion source for a whole new look…” Heero knew his face was flushed, but knew he
should still step carefully, still seek compassion, not controversy…
Duo laughed
gently beside him. “I’m feeling those
kid gloves again. OK, so we take it easy
for a while longer. But I’ve always
known how I feel, always felt it, whatever happened – you remember that.”
“I will,”
he replied. I do.
He knew he
was grinning too, now – he could feel happiness creasing the corners of his
eyes. He wanted to hold Duo, but that
would wait. The steps had to be followed
– but not necessarily at a snail’s pace.
They stood in their matching robes, their very different features
contrasting in the mirror’s reflection, and their eyes shining at each other.
The laugh
that followed – though soft and cautious – was from both of them together.
End