For Merith, who donated to the tsunami relief fund and requested this.
He comes awake slowly from liquid dreams of darkness, soft voices that twine and whisper around him. Blinking, Heero stares up at the shadows the security lamp a few doors down makes on the ceiling, and wonders if he isn't still dreaming. Everything seems softened somehow, sharp edges broken down into fluid, drifting shapes; he feels smothered but curiously uncaring.
Beside him, Duo shifts with a barely-voiced murmur, lax fingers tightening briefly around his own. This deep in sleep, the other man is curled tightly around himself, a defensive ball of limbs and hair. He holds Heero's left hand to his chest as though it is a lifeline; a peculiar sort of security blanket since Heero is as sure as he can be that Duo-the-child never possessed such a thing.
Heero feels as though he is underwater, even his movements slow and heavy, somehow languid. The air that he breathes in � slow, relaxed, deep � is cool, though it is close to the end of spring. The light curtains at the window rustle a little in a sudden breeze, and Duo twitches at the sound, muttering something inaudible.
Twisting onto his side, Heero wriggles sleepily until he can rest his head on his bent elbow, hand still a prisoner, and stare down at his lover. Duo's face is scrunched tightly in sleep, like a tiny baby trying to burrow into its mother's arms. Heero remembers yesterday, visiting Relena at the hospital with all their other friends, and smiles to himself.
Without really contemplating it, Heero finds his right hand reaching out, fingers tracing a slow, gentle line up Duo's arm, across taut shoulder muscles and down, skimming along the sharp line of a collarbone. Duo shudders under the touch, and Heero wonders how he can sleep like that, hunched so tightly that every muscle and tendon must be screaming in agony by morning. As if in answer to his thoughts, Duo twitches again and begins to relax, unwinding by increments as he moves towards waking.
On any other night Heero would have cursed himself; just because he can't sleep is no reason to wake Duo, after all, and he has had more than enough experience with the man's crankiness after an interrupted night. Tonight, though, something is different. Heero can't put a finger on it, doesn't care. He watches in darkness as Duo wrinkles his nose, rolling onto his back and stretching out sleepily, and smiles.
Duo's head has turned unerringly towards Heero even before his eyes open. Even with his night vision, Heero cannot distinguish their colour, nor pupil from iris. Still, there is familiarity here as dark hollows soften, their gazes meeting. Smiles in darkness, and Heero can no more help the fond expression that crosses his face than he can turn back the tide.
Duo turns onto his side, wriggling closer so that Heero can feel the heat of his body, so close but not quite touching. He doesn't speak; Heero feels soft breath stirring his hair just before Duo leans in and kisses him gently.
This is something he could never get tired of. Heero feels his eyes drifting closed as he leans into Duo, free hand coming up to curl around his throat, fingers working into the base of the braid he wears even while sleeping. Duo makes a quiet sound against his mouth, almost a purr, and presses closer, tilting his head and parting his lips in invitation. Heero accepts, licking at the side of his lover's mouth for a moment before pressing in, twining their tongues together. Duo always gives as good as he gets, sometimes turning their kisses into battles for dominance that leave Heero shaking and panting for more, but not tonight. Tonight seems to be a time for slow, unhurried caresses; Heero feels fingers trailing up the arch of his back as Duo's tongue explores the roof of his mouth.
Duo clutches at his shoulder, tugging him closer still, and Heero feels the familiar patterns of callused skin shifting against scarred, one finger thoughtlessly tracing the tiny indentations left by years-old metal fragments. It stirs something in him, and he reclaims his left hand, pushing Duo gently down into the mattress, settling above him. Duo accepts his extra weight without complaint, arms curling into a loose circle around him, clasping in the small of his back. Duo likes to hold onto him, sometimes, as though he fears that Heero might vanish somehow, and Heero never protests the habit. Sometimes, he likes to be held.
He runs his fingers down the muscles of Duo's chest, dipping his head for a slow moment to steal another kiss, feeling without looking for the raised patterns he knows are there. Last field mission, and the shallow cuts haven't yet had time to heal completely; they make up a small sunburst of bumpy red lines above Duo's navel.
Long experience tells Heero that the shiver that runs through Duo's frame as his fingers ghost across the marks is anything but pain. Smiling to himself, he bends again, nipping sharply at Duo's collarbone before tracing the same path with his mouth, down over the pectorals � pausing to lick thoughtfully at a nipple, eliciting a breathy sigh � to run his tongue over the still-fresh marks.
It's not as though there was any real risk, he thinks � the scars were an unfortunate accident, inflicted by a belligerent drunk with a broken bottle who'd decided to resist arrest. It's not as though either of them have been shot, or even shot at, in years. No real danger to Duo, but the incident has had him living on his nerves for weeks. He dips his tongue thoughtfully into Duo's navel, ignoring the sudden violent twitching of the man's body beneath him, the hard flesh now pressing against his own chest. He has already decided that tonight is for taking his time, after all. Heero smiles in the darkness, dragging his teeth slowly over healed skin, and deliberately, finally, lets himself relax.