[FIC] Everything You Need To Know
Title: Everything You Need To Know
Author: WickedGame
Genre: drama, fluff, a touch of angst
Pairing: 1=2
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: a little foul language, some kissing, Duo POV
Notes: beta read by priscel. Thanks!
If you took everything you knew about Heero Yuy and wanted, for some reason, to put it into a bowl you would severely be disappointed. That bowl would be filled only a little bit, and you would be sitting there looking at your little bit of knowledge and frowning at it.
That’s what it’s like to try and get to know Heero. He’s gorgeous, brilliant, dangerous, and there are a million other qualities he has that I don’t think anyone’s ever seen or heard. Yeah, not even me.
He’s been my roommate for three months now. It just so happened that his lease ran out and I had an extra bedroom so I offered it up to cut living costs. I mean, it also didn’t help that I was hoping… no, I was praying that he might just show a little bit of interest in me like I hoped I was showing in him. Having the man you want in your home already kind of facilitates the whole ‘chasing’ process. I mean come on… it was hard to deny me dinner and a movie when we lived together!
So, anyway, I feel kind of like I’m looking in that bowl still. Three months and I’ve only learned a few more things about Heero that I didn’t already know before he moved in.
One, he likes his scrambled eggs dry, not wet. But that’s all right, because I like them that way too. Two, Heero loves music. The man has a collection to rival mine and I have more music than I could possibly ever listen to. Three, he has a very high tolerance for alcohol. I tried to get him drunk once so he would be amenable to suggestions but I passed out from too much vodka while he was still looking sober as a priest.
But nothing else! Nothing else about him that I didn’t already know. It’s irritating! He’s like…a puzzle I want to solve. I want to know him so bad, and it’s not because I feel like he’s and object that needs to be studied or something. I guess I want to know him because then I can get busy falling in love with him the rest of the way. Right now it’s all lust and infatuation, but I can tell the potential is there… the potential to love Heero more than I’ve ever even tried to love anyone. But I can’t fall in love with someone I hardly know, right?
***
I’m going for a drink of water, and he’s on his bed, reading.
“What’re you reading?” I ask him as I pass his room.
“Slaughterhouse Five,” he answers, not looking up.
“Huh?”
He closes the book and looks at me through his reading glasses. “Classic novel. You’ve never read it?”
“I don’t read much,” I shrug.
“You should,” he counters.
“Put it on my bed when you’re done and maybe I will,” I tell him.
“Okay,” he smiles slightly at me and then looks back down at the dog-eared paperback.
When I come home from the gym that night it’s there on my bed, with a post-it attached.
Take good care of it, and try to ignore the notes in the margins - H
I smile brightly and thank my lucky stars. Heero Yuy leaves notes in the margins of his books. I write it down on the notepad I keep in my nightstand.
1. Heero speaks three languages: English, French, and Japanese.
2. Heero likes his coffee black with two sugars.
3. Heero hates green tea.
4. Heero likes action movies but loves a good noir film.
5. Heero likes his scrambled eggs dry.
6. Heero has almost as much music as me.
7. Getting Heero drunk is a fruitless endeavor.
8. Heero likes to read, a lot. Classic books.
9. Heero leaves notes in the margins of his books.
10. Oh! Forgot one - Heero hates mushrooms.
11. Shit, forgot another one - Heero plays billiards like a pro.
I put my list away and relax on my bed. It looks like Mr. Vonnegut is going to be dominating my life for the next two days or so.
***
12. Heero writes bad poetry in the margins of his books.
13. Heero is an existentialist. I think that’s how you spell that word. He definitely is among those who think and therefore they are. I didn’t totally understand the disjointed thoughts he wrote down, but it took me twice as long to read that damned book trying to put all the margin notes together into coherent thought.
***
He’s on his bed again, but this time he’s listening to music as I head to the kitchen for an apple.
“What are you listening to?”
He smiles at me. “The Temptations. Classic Motown.”
“I don’t have anything that old in my collection, save some Elvis albums,” I tell him.
He hums the tune and then, to my surprise, starts to sing quietly. “Just my imagination, once again. Running away with me. Tell you it was just my imagination… running away with me.”
“Could you lend that disc to me when you’re done?” I ask him as I try hard not to throw myself at him.
“Sure. Can I borrow your Elvis albums?”
I nod and offer up a small smile. “I’ll go get them for you.”
***
14. Heero may or may not have ever had any kind of vocal training, but he can sing, and it’s nice.
15. Judging by how worn the disc is, Heero likes old Motown music a lot.
***
Fucking hell, I feel like I’m no closer to knowing the guy! It’s all superficial stuff I’m finding out, from music to reading. What the hell does this tell me about Heero? What the hell does this tell me about who he is, or whether or not he’s going to punch me once I make a move on him?
A plan forms in my mind: a dirty and underhanded plan, but nothing that’s going to hurt the guy, or me when you get down to it.
I wait until a time when he’s gone and I know for sure when he’s going to be back. Then it’s time for porn. I’ll sit on the couch and watch gay porn and pretend like I don’t hear him when he comes in the door and then he can catch me watching gay porn and I’ll have a chance to find out if gay men turn him on or off. He’ll either be apathetic or he’ll be interested in what I’m watching. Either way, I’ll know about his orientation.
***
16. Heero doesn’t appreciate catching me watching porn. Said he was just glad I wasn’t jerking off on the sofa when he came in.
17. Judging by the way his eyes lingered on the screen he wasn’t disgusted. Yay!
***
“Hey, Heero, let’s go out tonight,” I suggest as we’re doing the laundry. I’ve kind of given up, I guess. The porn incident suggested that he might be inclined my way but it wasn’t concrete proof and I only have one other trick up my sleeve. We’ll go out, I’ll get drunk, and then I’ll throw myself at him. If he says no I can always chalk it up to me being drunk and not knowing any better. If he says yes, then I guess I’m getting laid tonight. Maybe. I don’t know why I didn’t do that from the start. Stupid experiments.
“Where do you want to go? To the club?” he asks me, and I note that he sounds kind of hopeful.
“Sure,” I smile at him and he smiles back and my toes are suddenly tingling. Good god, the things he does to me. I want him to do a whole lot more.
After some takeout I get dressed in what I usually wear to the club and then sit on the bed to tie my boots.
“Wear the red,” Heero says as he leans against my doorframe. I try not to look him up and down and just cock my head to the side.
“It brings out the red in your hair,” he says to me before he disappears back around the corner. I change my shirt and get back to tying my boots. I brush my hair and re-braid it, securing it with a red band. I frown at my reflection.
“Did he just compliment me?” I ask myself.
It bothers me all the way there, in the comfortable quiet of Heero’s car.
We pay the valet to park and hope he doesn’t scratch it. Then we’re paying a cover and making our way into the busy club. There are trays with empty glasses making their way through the crowds, and bodies rubbing against bodies while the bass thumps hard in the subwoofers. It’s a meat market, to be sure, but the drinks are well-priced and not too watered down and that’s why we come here.
We head for the bar and I order a series of jello shots. I hand a few to Heero and keep a few for myself.
“To learning new things,” I say to him as we clink our shot glasses together.
“To finding out things you never knew you wanted to know,” he says cryptically. I shrug and toss back one shot after another, feeling the pleasant warmth of vodka spread through my body.
“Do you dance, Heero Yuy?” I ask him as I set my last shot glass down. “I’ve been living with you for over three months now and I know almost nothing about you!”
“I used to dance when I was younger,” he says to me. “Jazz dance, believe it or not.”
I try not to laugh, but I do anyway. He frowns at me.
“Well, let’s see if you can do better then!” He pulls on my arm and we’re headed for the dance floor. Colored lights and reflections from the mirror balls fill the space and I have a hard time deciding if Heero looks better bathed in blue or purple.
To tell the truth, I’m not the best dancer. That’s usually why I stay near the bar and dance very little. The only way I know how to dance is up close and personal, bodies touching and swaying together. But Heero’s actually dancing, actually moving to the beat and keeping up with some of the better dancers out there.
“I thought you were going to challenge me, Duo!” he half-shouts at me. I growl at the deliberate goading and grab his arm.
“A challenge? You want a challenge?” I ask, pulling him close to me. His eyes go wide and I can tell he’s scared but then he’s chest to chest with me and my arm is slung low over his ass.
“This is how I dance,” I whisper in his ear. “Not all fast and frantic, like animals in heat. I dance like this, close and dirty.”
There’s no sound coming from Heero’s lips. He’s holding his breath. He smells like his shampoo and soap, with a thin layer of sweat over it.
“What do you want?” he asks me finally, as we’re still close and swaying.
“I want to know you,” I tell him, without a second thought.
“Why on Earth would you want to know me?” he asks.
“This isn’t the way this was supposed to go,” I explain. “I was supposed to get drunk, hit on you, and then explain it away in the morning after you turned me down.”
“But why me?” he asks, pushing the hair out of his eyes.
“I want to know you so I feel like I can go ahead and fall in love with you,” I say softly into his ear. “But I think it may already be too late to worry about that.”
I pull away from him, suddenly uncomfortable with how open I’ve been, and how much I’ve just risked.
“I’m going to go get some air,” I tell him. And I leave him there, standing on the dance floor.
I lied. You know it and I know it. I didn’t just go get some air. I ran. I caught the subway and headed home.
He’s there when I get home, sitting on our couch. I walk into my room without a word, grab my notebook, and toss it to him.
Heero reads my notes and then looks at me as I lean against the wall.
“Is this all you’ve learned about me in the past three months?” he asks. “Is this all you’ve learned about me in the years you’ve known me?”
I nod, not trusting my voice.
“You’re stupid, Duo Maxwell,” Heero says as he tosses the notebook onto the table. “You’re either stupid or just about the most unobservant person on this planet.”
Heero gets up and walks over to me, slamming his hands on either side of my head.
“You want to know what I’ve found out about you?” he asks.
I look him in the eye, not flinching. Let him say what he has to say.
“You’re a good cook, you’re curious, you have a big heart. You’re selfless and would give your last scrap of bread to anyone who asked for it. You love your hair and you brush it exactly ten times before you braid it. You are always there for your friends. There’s so much more, Duo! So much more I know. I’ve known you were gay since around the time we met. There’s only one thing I don’t know that I’ve always wanted to.”
“What’s that?” I ask, my voice small and my throat dry.
“Are those lips as soft as I’ve always thought they might be?”
Heero’s kiss isn’t anything like I thought it would be. His lips are sweet, yielding and hot pressed against mine. I kiss him back like I’ve always wanted to kiss him, opening my mouth to moan and softly slipping my tongue inside his mouth. I lick the roof of his mouth, touching the back of his teeth. I stroke his tongue and it’s better than I could have ever imagined.
He’s right. I have been stupid. Looking back, there were so many signs saying he felt this way. It was in the way he smiled at me; in the way he spent time with me and how we always hung out together. It was in the way he shared things with me. It was in the way he just was and I’d never seen it.
I tell him so when we break for air. “I’m so sorry, Heero.”
He brushes my bangs out of my eyes. “Sorry for what? For being an idiot?”
“For being blind,” I tell him. “You’ve waited all this time for me to realize how you felt.”
“No,” he shook his head and put his arms around my waist. “I was waiting for you to figure out how you felt. I thought you for sure knew how I felt.”
“I didn’t have a clue,” I whisper.
“It was Colonel Mustard, in the conservatory, with the lead pipe…”
I shush him with another kiss.
***
18. Heero kisses like a god.
19. Heero used to jazz dance when he was younger. He dances pretty well now.
20. Heero has a tiny scar on the tip of his nose.
21. Heero Yuy is in love with me.
22. Heero Yuy is a fool for loving me.
23. Duo Maxwell needs to throw this damned notebook away.
-The End -
Author: WickedGame
Genre: drama, fluff, a touch of angst
Pairing: 1=2
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: a little foul language, some kissing, Duo POV
Notes: beta read by priscel. Thanks!
If you took everything you knew about Heero Yuy and wanted, for some reason, to put it into a bowl you would severely be disappointed. That bowl would be filled only a little bit, and you would be sitting there looking at your little bit of knowledge and frowning at it.
That’s what it’s like to try and get to know Heero. He’s gorgeous, brilliant, dangerous, and there are a million other qualities he has that I don’t think anyone’s ever seen or heard. Yeah, not even me.
He’s been my roommate for three months now. It just so happened that his lease ran out and I had an extra bedroom so I offered it up to cut living costs. I mean, it also didn’t help that I was hoping… no, I was praying that he might just show a little bit of interest in me like I hoped I was showing in him. Having the man you want in your home already kind of facilitates the whole ‘chasing’ process. I mean come on… it was hard to deny me dinner and a movie when we lived together!
So, anyway, I feel kind of like I’m looking in that bowl still. Three months and I’ve only learned a few more things about Heero that I didn’t already know before he moved in.
One, he likes his scrambled eggs dry, not wet. But that’s all right, because I like them that way too. Two, Heero loves music. The man has a collection to rival mine and I have more music than I could possibly ever listen to. Three, he has a very high tolerance for alcohol. I tried to get him drunk once so he would be amenable to suggestions but I passed out from too much vodka while he was still looking sober as a priest.
But nothing else! Nothing else about him that I didn’t already know. It’s irritating! He’s like…a puzzle I want to solve. I want to know him so bad, and it’s not because I feel like he’s and object that needs to be studied or something. I guess I want to know him because then I can get busy falling in love with him the rest of the way. Right now it’s all lust and infatuation, but I can tell the potential is there… the potential to love Heero more than I’ve ever even tried to love anyone. But I can’t fall in love with someone I hardly know, right?
***
I’m going for a drink of water, and he’s on his bed, reading.
“What’re you reading?” I ask him as I pass his room.
“Slaughterhouse Five,” he answers, not looking up.
“Huh?”
He closes the book and looks at me through his reading glasses. “Classic novel. You’ve never read it?”
“I don’t read much,” I shrug.
“You should,” he counters.
“Put it on my bed when you’re done and maybe I will,” I tell him.
“Okay,” he smiles slightly at me and then looks back down at the dog-eared paperback.
When I come home from the gym that night it’s there on my bed, with a post-it attached.
Take good care of it, and try to ignore the notes in the margins - H
I smile brightly and thank my lucky stars. Heero Yuy leaves notes in the margins of his books. I write it down on the notepad I keep in my nightstand.
1. Heero speaks three languages: English, French, and Japanese.
2. Heero likes his coffee black with two sugars.
3. Heero hates green tea.
4. Heero likes action movies but loves a good noir film.
5. Heero likes his scrambled eggs dry.
6. Heero has almost as much music as me.
7. Getting Heero drunk is a fruitless endeavor.
8. Heero likes to read, a lot. Classic books.
9. Heero leaves notes in the margins of his books.
10. Oh! Forgot one - Heero hates mushrooms.
11. Shit, forgot another one - Heero plays billiards like a pro.
I put my list away and relax on my bed. It looks like Mr. Vonnegut is going to be dominating my life for the next two days or so.
***
12. Heero writes bad poetry in the margins of his books.
13. Heero is an existentialist. I think that’s how you spell that word. He definitely is among those who think and therefore they are. I didn’t totally understand the disjointed thoughts he wrote down, but it took me twice as long to read that damned book trying to put all the margin notes together into coherent thought.
***
He’s on his bed again, but this time he’s listening to music as I head to the kitchen for an apple.
“What are you listening to?”
He smiles at me. “The Temptations. Classic Motown.”
“I don’t have anything that old in my collection, save some Elvis albums,” I tell him.
He hums the tune and then, to my surprise, starts to sing quietly. “Just my imagination, once again. Running away with me. Tell you it was just my imagination… running away with me.”
“Could you lend that disc to me when you’re done?” I ask him as I try hard not to throw myself at him.
“Sure. Can I borrow your Elvis albums?”
I nod and offer up a small smile. “I’ll go get them for you.”
***
14. Heero may or may not have ever had any kind of vocal training, but he can sing, and it’s nice.
15. Judging by how worn the disc is, Heero likes old Motown music a lot.
***
Fucking hell, I feel like I’m no closer to knowing the guy! It’s all superficial stuff I’m finding out, from music to reading. What the hell does this tell me about Heero? What the hell does this tell me about who he is, or whether or not he’s going to punch me once I make a move on him?
A plan forms in my mind: a dirty and underhanded plan, but nothing that’s going to hurt the guy, or me when you get down to it.
I wait until a time when he’s gone and I know for sure when he’s going to be back. Then it’s time for porn. I’ll sit on the couch and watch gay porn and pretend like I don’t hear him when he comes in the door and then he can catch me watching gay porn and I’ll have a chance to find out if gay men turn him on or off. He’ll either be apathetic or he’ll be interested in what I’m watching. Either way, I’ll know about his orientation.
***
16. Heero doesn’t appreciate catching me watching porn. Said he was just glad I wasn’t jerking off on the sofa when he came in.
17. Judging by the way his eyes lingered on the screen he wasn’t disgusted. Yay!
***
“Hey, Heero, let’s go out tonight,” I suggest as we’re doing the laundry. I’ve kind of given up, I guess. The porn incident suggested that he might be inclined my way but it wasn’t concrete proof and I only have one other trick up my sleeve. We’ll go out, I’ll get drunk, and then I’ll throw myself at him. If he says no I can always chalk it up to me being drunk and not knowing any better. If he says yes, then I guess I’m getting laid tonight. Maybe. I don’t know why I didn’t do that from the start. Stupid experiments.
“Where do you want to go? To the club?” he asks me, and I note that he sounds kind of hopeful.
“Sure,” I smile at him and he smiles back and my toes are suddenly tingling. Good god, the things he does to me. I want him to do a whole lot more.
After some takeout I get dressed in what I usually wear to the club and then sit on the bed to tie my boots.
“Wear the red,” Heero says as he leans against my doorframe. I try not to look him up and down and just cock my head to the side.
“It brings out the red in your hair,” he says to me before he disappears back around the corner. I change my shirt and get back to tying my boots. I brush my hair and re-braid it, securing it with a red band. I frown at my reflection.
“Did he just compliment me?” I ask myself.
It bothers me all the way there, in the comfortable quiet of Heero’s car.
We pay the valet to park and hope he doesn’t scratch it. Then we’re paying a cover and making our way into the busy club. There are trays with empty glasses making their way through the crowds, and bodies rubbing against bodies while the bass thumps hard in the subwoofers. It’s a meat market, to be sure, but the drinks are well-priced and not too watered down and that’s why we come here.
We head for the bar and I order a series of jello shots. I hand a few to Heero and keep a few for myself.
“To learning new things,” I say to him as we clink our shot glasses together.
“To finding out things you never knew you wanted to know,” he says cryptically. I shrug and toss back one shot after another, feeling the pleasant warmth of vodka spread through my body.
“Do you dance, Heero Yuy?” I ask him as I set my last shot glass down. “I’ve been living with you for over three months now and I know almost nothing about you!”
“I used to dance when I was younger,” he says to me. “Jazz dance, believe it or not.”
I try not to laugh, but I do anyway. He frowns at me.
“Well, let’s see if you can do better then!” He pulls on my arm and we’re headed for the dance floor. Colored lights and reflections from the mirror balls fill the space and I have a hard time deciding if Heero looks better bathed in blue or purple.
To tell the truth, I’m not the best dancer. That’s usually why I stay near the bar and dance very little. The only way I know how to dance is up close and personal, bodies touching and swaying together. But Heero’s actually dancing, actually moving to the beat and keeping up with some of the better dancers out there.
“I thought you were going to challenge me, Duo!” he half-shouts at me. I growl at the deliberate goading and grab his arm.
“A challenge? You want a challenge?” I ask, pulling him close to me. His eyes go wide and I can tell he’s scared but then he’s chest to chest with me and my arm is slung low over his ass.
“This is how I dance,” I whisper in his ear. “Not all fast and frantic, like animals in heat. I dance like this, close and dirty.”
There’s no sound coming from Heero’s lips. He’s holding his breath. He smells like his shampoo and soap, with a thin layer of sweat over it.
“What do you want?” he asks me finally, as we’re still close and swaying.
“I want to know you,” I tell him, without a second thought.
“Why on Earth would you want to know me?” he asks.
“This isn’t the way this was supposed to go,” I explain. “I was supposed to get drunk, hit on you, and then explain it away in the morning after you turned me down.”
“But why me?” he asks, pushing the hair out of his eyes.
“I want to know you so I feel like I can go ahead and fall in love with you,” I say softly into his ear. “But I think it may already be too late to worry about that.”
I pull away from him, suddenly uncomfortable with how open I’ve been, and how much I’ve just risked.
“I’m going to go get some air,” I tell him. And I leave him there, standing on the dance floor.
I lied. You know it and I know it. I didn’t just go get some air. I ran. I caught the subway and headed home.
He’s there when I get home, sitting on our couch. I walk into my room without a word, grab my notebook, and toss it to him.
Heero reads my notes and then looks at me as I lean against the wall.
“Is this all you’ve learned about me in the past three months?” he asks. “Is this all you’ve learned about me in the years you’ve known me?”
I nod, not trusting my voice.
“You’re stupid, Duo Maxwell,” Heero says as he tosses the notebook onto the table. “You’re either stupid or just about the most unobservant person on this planet.”
Heero gets up and walks over to me, slamming his hands on either side of my head.
“You want to know what I’ve found out about you?” he asks.
I look him in the eye, not flinching. Let him say what he has to say.
“You’re a good cook, you’re curious, you have a big heart. You’re selfless and would give your last scrap of bread to anyone who asked for it. You love your hair and you brush it exactly ten times before you braid it. You are always there for your friends. There’s so much more, Duo! So much more I know. I’ve known you were gay since around the time we met. There’s only one thing I don’t know that I’ve always wanted to.”
“What’s that?” I ask, my voice small and my throat dry.
“Are those lips as soft as I’ve always thought they might be?”
Heero’s kiss isn’t anything like I thought it would be. His lips are sweet, yielding and hot pressed against mine. I kiss him back like I’ve always wanted to kiss him, opening my mouth to moan and softly slipping my tongue inside his mouth. I lick the roof of his mouth, touching the back of his teeth. I stroke his tongue and it’s better than I could have ever imagined.
He’s right. I have been stupid. Looking back, there were so many signs saying he felt this way. It was in the way he smiled at me; in the way he spent time with me and how we always hung out together. It was in the way he shared things with me. It was in the way he just was and I’d never seen it.
I tell him so when we break for air. “I’m so sorry, Heero.”
He brushes my bangs out of my eyes. “Sorry for what? For being an idiot?”
“For being blind,” I tell him. “You’ve waited all this time for me to realize how you felt.”
“No,” he shook his head and put his arms around my waist. “I was waiting for you to figure out how you felt. I thought you for sure knew how I felt.”
“I didn’t have a clue,” I whisper.
“It was Colonel Mustard, in the conservatory, with the lead pipe…”
I shush him with another kiss.
***
18. Heero kisses like a god.
19. Heero used to jazz dance when he was younger. He dances pretty well now.
20. Heero has a tiny scar on the tip of his nose.
21. Heero Yuy is in love with me.
22. Heero Yuy is a fool for loving me.
23. Duo Maxwell needs to throw this damned notebook away.
-The End -