this one goes out to the man in my life....

[self_named]

Duo was happily shirtless, barefoot, and spattered with oil. He'd teen tuning up the joints in Deathscythe's wings and legs, making sure it was free of grit and foliage and running smooth. He wiped his hands off on a rag and tucked it into the very low hanging band of his jeans, sitting on the edge of the open cockpit panel, and enjoyed the

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[forged_hero]

It was faintly terrifying.

That was the word. Terrifying. Moist had seen tumblers crawling up and down ropes fifty feet off the ground in circuses and shows but Duo was up there doing it like it was nothing, just like walking, and he found himself staring, shaking his head.

The starring was not completely due to the trapizing. Moist grinned up at him, enjoying the flex and the line of his back.

"Twelve and a half percent!" the Bird said, settling on the very peak of the Gundam and messing impressively.

Moist sat on the back step of the house and watched, wearing shorts and a thin tee-shirt, barefoot in the heat.

"Are you trying to kill yourself?" he called up, passingly curious.

[self_named]

"No!" Duo called back, leaning forward and grinning, braid slipping over his shoulder to dangle in the air. "Tried it once, it didn't take! Wanna come up?"

[forged_hero]

Moist cocked an eyebrow at that but didn't press it. Right.

"I like the ground. There's less weapons and potential of falling." He leaned back on the stoop, one corner of his mouth lifting.

"Besides, the view's better from down here."

[self_named]

"Buddy," Duo chuckled, dragging his legs up onto the perch so he was crouch, and leaned over the edge, flashing Moist what could only be called bedroom eyes, "I can promise you that that's not true."