Worthy of Your Kiss

Abby Ebon

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Disclaimer; I do not own Gundam Wing.

Note; this is part two of "Worthy of Your Kiss", and it's about damn time too. So, Happy early-late birthday to Chaos Silk, and happy Mother's Day tomorrow to everyone else.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"Welcome, Zechs." It wasn't to be expected that Quatre himself would greet Zechs at the door. Usually when he invited someone, they were greeted by staff. Quatre only ever showed a truly personal interest when it concerned his fellow pilots – his friends. As this, assuredly, did.

"Thank you, Winner for inviting me into your home, though I do wonder what it is that you intend to come away with from me." Zechs looked about himself and his surroundings as if he expected there to be something to be wary of. Quatre kept his smile to himself.

The entrance to his home (for it was, indeed, his home, no matter that it was the size of a mansion) was cream white marble and soft colored walls in tones of desert gold. Most of the ceiling was painted glass in colors of either sunset blues or sunrise reds, depending on if you were in the west or east wings. Here they were mixed and mingled into a purple that glittered from above. Quatre loved looking up at the sky and had seen no reason that he could not be "richly eccentric" in the coloring of his own dwelling.

"Why would you be so bold as to ask this of me so abruptly?" Quatre asked his voice soft, questioning. It was not that he meant to threaten Zechs, this was a different sort of interrogation. For one of his friends, Quatre would do much more then what Duo had asked of them, if only to see to their comfort – whatever hand they had been dealt.

"It is not often – nor under peaceful circumstances – that I am privately invited into the home of a former enemy." And that, Quatre knew, was the difference to this meeting. It was why Zechs had been fine at the ball, yet now, was uneasy. It was why he was wary to the point of being defensive. Quatre wanted to tell him that there were easier ways to arrange for his death, rather then having invited him into his home. Murder was personal, yes, but there was a line to be drawn against stupidity.

"A truth, I assure you, is all I would be assured with." Quatre said instead, gesturing deeper into his home. With his cryptic words to tease, he turned on his heel heading down the long entrance hall where a lesser dining room sat. It was on Zechs now, to follow and be led into the "belly of the enemy" - or to leave and never know. Quatre wondered how strong his curiosity was – it was something to uncover – when he heard footsteps following him. It would be something he'd have to uncover.

"What truth would that be?" Zechs asked from behind him, likely wondering at what game Quatre was playing. He'd have to wait to find out. Quatre glanced to the servant that stood by the door, unsuspecting – though Quatre had long ago issued orders that they be armed; he was greeted with a bow. Quatre took in the familiar sights, a table that was set, ready, and a tray of teas arranged and a steaming pot of water. The servant had left them; by the time Zechs entered and was seated. Quatre wasn't one to let another pour his own tea, when he could do it just as well himself.

"How would you like your tea?" Quatre asked, taking in at a glance how Zechs was reacting to this treatment. He must have noticed that the servant had had a holster across his chest, in the very least. Yet for all that Quatre had not threatened him, he was making it plain that he could – that here, he was master.

"Mild." There was no hesitation, no nerves or stutter. Quatre wondered if he had already figured out what was going on and was only playing along now, following the steps. Quatre poured the hot water and set the teabags in, then decided to shake things up. Make Zechs a little less comfortable.

"Intriguing... I have always thought the way a person likes their tea would say more of them then they would say." Quatre spoke though lowered lashes. If his intent was to threaten or seduce, this technique would do. Zechs narrowed his eyes, suspicious and too still as he spoke, choosing his words with care.

"Oh? Well, that is an interesting theory." Quatre could not help the smile that flittered over his expression. Zechs was loyal and true to who he was, he would not be swayed by subtly; no matter how expertly it was thrust upon him.

For that was what Quatre was; a successful business man, he sat in meetings with men and women who lived to manipulate and detail – stark honesty was a rare thing. A deadly thing to possess, for it was an as good as a knife at ones own throat. Quatre had learned that lesson well and early at his father's insistence. If Zechs had intended anything, Quatre with gifts of empathy, and training, and business, would have been able to tell. Zechs, at the moment, did not have a plan.

"Isn't it?" Quatre mused, tapping his fingers impatiently against the saucer his tea sat upon. This game was at an end, all that remained was for Zechs to finish it. It was just as well that it hadn't gone on long; Quatre sometimes did not like what he found out while doing this among friends or ordinary people. It felt too much like betrayal.

"What do you want from me?" Zechs asked then, his voice calm for all that he was tensed as if about to be attacked. Quatre gave him a sympathetic look, and decided to let the game rest.

"Last night, you bumped into Duo. He has a theory about you and a mutual friend of ours." Quatre sipped at his tea, finding it at the right temperature – not enough to burn his mouth, though enough to warm him after slipping into such a cold and calculating persona. It brought back memories of Wing Zero, though this was not brought to the surface by a machine – this, instead, was always lucking beneath the surface of himself. He wondered if Heero might sometimes feel as he did, or Zechs, though he knew that to be a question for another time.

"This friend, I take it, would be a Gundam pilot?" Zechs followed his lead, drinking the tea only after he had. He was being cautious, which Quatre did not disapprove of. Still, it was clear that this side of him had put Zechs on edge, he was still nervous – and Quatre would not have the thought that this meeting had been the reason Zechs failed what tests he would be put to though shortly.

"Why do think this?" Quatre asked, smiling and feeling almost playful. Zechs was smart, that, not even Duo could deny – it was why Quatre was put into play first, to let Zechs know something was up, to put him in guard, but not to scare him off quickly. Quatre did not think that would have been a problem in the first place – Zechs was no coward.

"I do not think someone of your class would mingle much with his." Zechs was pushing at him, trying to see if this was truly Quatre – or another side of the façade.

"You underestimate him, if you think Duo so crass." Quatre fought away from the urge to fall back in the role he had vacated, it would have been satisfying to tear at Zechs with the invisible knives that were words and bleed him dry for an insult to Duo. Quatre had always been possessive of his friends – protecting them from insults and injury was his second nature. It seemed that he had underestimated Zechs – this was no longer his game, it was more personal and worrying to be at the receiving end.

Quatre wondered, fleetingly, how far Zechs would take this, how much talent did he have to draw out the answers? Would he guess that he had grossly underestimated Duo, who had planned all of this? How much would Quatre betray? Would all that Duo planed unravel? His mirth fled now, Quatre pressed his lips tightly together as if to keep such answers to himself.

"I did not say that, Winner, it is a fact that I admire him – in fact – I respect all of you, in one way of another." Zechs must have seen something of his thoughts cross his features, for he was backpedaling swiftly. Quatre could appreciate such efforts being taken for his own sake; it was clear enough that Zechs realized his error.

"Oh? How is this so?" Quatre tilted his head, giving in to his curiosity – he wanted to know what Zechs had to say. It might give him a hint to why Zechs had came when called here today.

"Your self for example, heir to an empire of an industry that is critical to the people, yet deals with them fairly. Most interesting that you would pilot, yet you did - and met your old life fairly at the end of it. I could never do so, I barely hold speaking terms with those who consider themselves friends of my father, or sister." Quatre was well aware that Zechs would be giving over control of the conversation. He wondered how far Zechs would give.

"I see." More in control now, Quatre spoke. He did understand more of what was going on, at least.

"What is that supposed to mean, Winner?" Defensive now, Zechs seemed to be building walls between them. Quatre smiled to reassure him then, what had been done today could not be undone – but bridges still could be built.

"Merely a comment you need not fret over, Zechs, tell me…what do you think of Heero?" Quatre sat up a little more, for he did not mind letting it be obvious that this was the point in the conversation that he was really interested in. Zechs seemed to sense that, he tensed, likely wondering what it was that Quatre was fishing for.

"He is certainly worthy of the name he adopted as his own. More so then I am of my birth name. He is equal to me, I believe as far as ability is concerned." Zechs would do well to remember that of all of them, in the war; it had been Heero who faced him more often then any other pilot. Quatre almost smiled. While certainly aware of the rest of the pilot's abilities it had been Heero which Zechs had been most focused on.

"Indeed?" Relena would not thank them if her brother became withdrawn and broken. Quatre knew then how carefully he had to tread over. It was like ice-skating – too much weight would break the ice. Drowning was not an unpleasant death, but Quatre thought that there had been too much death in his life. Better not to risk it. Better to finish this.

"You'll forgive me, Winner, but I did not think you one to indulge in compliments from one who was once your enemy. Likewise, what does any of this have to do with Duo's theory?" Those words – those thoughts – were certainly strange to Zechs. Quatre shrugged, it was not his doing that Zechs had grossly underestimated Duo – doing had all too often been fatal for their enemies on the battlefield. In the here and now, Duo still plotted and pretended, though his trust in them – the pilots – was unshakable. They were Duo's weakness; it was often humbling to realize it.

"You are right, of course. Heero was watching you last night, Zechs. Tell me why you think this is so?" Quatre asked plainly, Zechs looked out the window – rolling hills and a small forest surrounded the estate. For a long time, he did not speak; Quatre almost thought he would not. That the subject would have to be changed; at least Zechs would come away from this knowing that Duo played a bigger part then he had guessed. It was a wise lesson to learn. This way, facing Duo as he was now facing Quatre would not later be too much.

"I would not know." Quatre was about to speak –to dismiss his question, or wash it away with trivial things - when Zechs, still lingering on the sights outside the window, spoke.

"I think you do." Quatre lingered on the words, thinking carefully of what he was going to say. Narrow eyed, Zechs looked to him, frowning.

"What are you implying?" He was becoming impatient. It was just as well. Mind games were not Zechs strongest point – that was his sister's strength more so then his own. Quatre smiled ruefully - it had been no easy thing for Duo to arrange for Relena to at least agree for Zechs to come to the manner.

Even then, standards had been negotiated (at no point was Zechs to be threatened physically) and there had been lines crossed and boundaries redefined. It was one of the few times Duo showed himself to be a true genius. If Duo ever alighted to be something in the business world, he would have the full backing of Quatre – and not only because Duo was a friend. In that, Quatre did not mind admitting his own ruthlessness.

"Merely that Heero is closer to you, then what it may appear." Quatre could not let everything that Duo had done fail, not even if Duo would forgive him for it easily and begin all this anew. Quatre allowed himself to leer, even if he thought of Heero as nothing more then a brother. They had never been lovers.

"I did not come here …." Indignation choked Zechs, his words faltering – failing – Quatre took the chance, and interrupted – pointing out the obvious.

"Yes, why did you come here?" It was a question that lingered with Quatre, though Zechs had likely avoided answering it – even within himself.

"I…I was curious." His reasoning was flawed, but Quatre would not be so rude as to point that out without some subtly. Still, it had to be said, and there were times to be vague – and times to be forthright.

"Perhaps, but I think you know what I imply between yourself and Heero, know this Zechs, for what it is worth I find you worthy of him. However," Quatre drew his hands together, fingers interweaving – it was not done to threaten with fists when words were just as effective, "if harm comes to him because of you, I will use every resource I have, without reserve, to see all you love and care for is swept under the rug of history and forever forgotten, even if I must become what I loath to do this, I will." It was no idle threat, and Quatre had never been so forthright of his more damaging intentions.

"I understand…thank you, Winner." Zechs eyed him carefully, as if only now fully aware that Quatre was much more then a pilot – or a battlefield enemy. His resources were rooted in politics and wealthy the oldest wealthy powers, with those who – like his sister – held the sway of the people. Zechs did not know if even Relena could protect him, if Quatre turned his full attention to seeing Zechs fall from grace.

"If we have such an understanding, Zechs, it would not be amiss to call me by my given name." Quatre smiled then, and it might have been unnerving to Zechs that his smile was pleasure; there was no threat in it even if moments before Zechs had not been sure if he would come out of this unscathed.

"I will keep that in mind." There was a wary regard to Zechs' tone, and if he thought that Quatre might not have made it through the war wholey sane – he was functional and influential enough so that Zechs would have kept his mouth shut, either way. Zechs was never certain how, but the conversation drifted to less dangerous things- and that was how he ended up in the stable field of the Winner mansion, admiring a host of Arabian thoroughbred endurance runners.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"You startled me." Zechs said, after turning around to see Trowa leaning up against the stable wall behind him, though he seemed only to be watching. Trowa tilted his head in acknowledgement, and for a moment both his eyes were obscured and he chose, oddly, that moment to speak.

"My apologies let me… make it up to you." A smile hovered over Trowa's lips, as if he was amused by some notion that Zechs could not guess. Though it was very strange, Zechs was sure no harm was meant.

"How would you go about doing that?" Zechs asked, eyes flicking over the horses, though he heard Trowa move toward him, he did not look to the other.

"Quatre keeps a modest stable; I would have you ride with me. I do not doubt your ability to do so." Trowa stated matter of fact, there was no challenge in his tone. It took Zechs by surprise none the less; it was not often he thought he'd see the day that Trowa, so silent and watchful, would approach him for a afternoon ride. It did, none the less, have a certain appeal.

"I can…" Zechs trailed off, seeing that Trowa was walking away into the stables like some olden day great lord's horse master, he was unsure now that Trowa truly meant to invite him on a ride, perhaps he had only meant to suggest it.

"Very well then, follow me." Trowa allowed, looking back over his shoulder as if sensing that Zechs had paused, uncertain. Gladly and somewhat eager, Zechs followed, and he was aware he was watched by Trowa's keen eyes as he brushed and saddled a fine roan stallion. Zechs had the feeling that it was not often that these horses were met with other hands then Trowa's, and they were fine and steady creatures; there was no timid nature in them, no fear of touch – they were solid and willingly reliable.

For the first time, Zechs remembered the stories about Trowa, that he'd been orphaned and grown up among the traveling circus, that even among those private folk, rumors had spread that Trowa had sympathy with animals. A way with them, some would say. It was what they did not say that Zechs found interest in, it was the how and why he did what he did. Zechs even now could not find a way to ask, because he felt he had to prove himself with Trowa, and maybe then Trowa would answer.

It was as they were riding out, Trowa leading with a black mare that Zechs thought of an old sang 'Death rides a pale horse'. He wondered if Trowa knew it, and what he made of it, but wondered himself what sort of man would ride a black horse in the company of a near stranger. Trowa led though, and Zechs thought only to follow, come what may.

Trowa paused in the middle of a grove; it was quiet and some distance from the main house.

"Why did you bring me out here?" Zechs asked, wary now, more so then he had been before. In space, no one could hear you scream – but in the end you were likely to be found, eventually, even if you died before then. On this green and blue Earth though, well, some men got lost and seemed to disappear into the very dirt below at death.

"I find it interesting, that one such as you, in full knowledge of what my friends and I can do, would walk willingly into our grasp and have trust to come forth without harm." Trowa's words echoed his thoughts, and it was eerie as one green eye gleamed at him in interest.

"The war is over." Zechs said firmly, even as the roan horse seemed to sense something and shied for the first time – away from Trowa, perched upon his mare and looking much like a predator, for all that he offered no gesture of coming harm.

"Grudges are not so easy to bury with the dead." Trowa near whispered and Zechs was startled, and wondered how much Trowa remembered of a past he was orphaned from, and if – in the war – he had lost someone dear that Zechs had never heard the name mentioned of. It was odd, those words, for Zechs would have sworn that during the war his intelligence had been better then that.

"Do you bare me grudge, Trowa?" Zechs asked it calmly, but he did not attempt to hide from himself his worry to what Trowa might do to him, if he decided that he was a threat that needed to be buried. He was sure he could get away, but not so sure he could flee unharmed. There was no sign of a weapon on Trowa's person, but he had been a Gundam pilot, and knew better ways of hiding things in plain sight then Zechs could begin to guess at.

"No. I, like Quatre, can put the past behind me when the future shows a different face." Trowa was softly spoken, as if not to stir the woods and disturb them. He reached out to touch reassuringly the horse under Zechs that he'd shied away, willingly and without instruction – it surprised Zechs to see and feel the horse move beneath him without command – it went to Trowa.

Zechs was within his reach, and yet Trowa did not now seem to care.

"You all baffle me." Zechs told him, shaking his head and his eyebrows drawn down with a line between them.

"I would not know what you mean." Trowa glanced up at him, head tilted, but hand still resting on the flank of the horse.

"I feel like I am being interrogated, yet I appear to have freedom to come and go as I please. How is it that I have fallen into such a trap?" Zechs asked softly, knowing the Trowa would answer, something between them had been settled and proven and put to rest.

"Do you not feel love – perhaps for brother or sister – or just that of a lover?" Trowa asked, as if he had the right and the claim to do so, and perhaps he had. Zechs had never known the other to speak so much to get a point across, he was being vague, but it was as if he wanted Zechs to come to the answer he had reached on his own, without it being said. It was, he guessed, supposed to come from his own reasoning - and not be given it simply.

"I have known such things." Zechs told him, for it felt like the right thing to do.

"Then you know why we have done what we have. We protect our own. Harm one of us, and we will see blood spilt." There was darkness in that green eye; and he knew - this was simply the only warning that would be given between them. It was enough to give Zechs pause, and he chose his words with care – for if this too was a trap – of his own kind and making.

"Winner told me much the same thing; I do not know what I have done to cause such a stir among your lot to become so popular." It was careful, his words, and if he expected a simple answer this time, or even a straightforward statement, Trowa gave him only disappointment.

"I think if you consider Quatre's words, you would understand us better." Trowa patted the flank of the horse, and it snorted softly into the silence, startling Zechs for no reason that he could put his finger on. Yet if anyone else spoke to a Gundam pilot they would agree that nerves and body language played a key part, for they –like half tame animals - understood it better then words alone. Zechs noticed that now, that intent stare upon him was gone.

"I feel, oddly compelled to thank you, though I do not know what it is I am grateful for." Zechs spoke, and for a time it seemed that Trowa would not answer.

"Think nothing of it. Wufei would meet with you in that clearing with the apple trees, if you would be willing to speak with him." It was simply stated, expectant, as if there was no doubt in Trowa's mind what Zechs choice was going to be. Perhaps there wasn't and his curiosity was more obvious then he would have liked to think.

"Somehow I feel as if I must." Zechs said softly, as he climbed down off the horse, after handing the reigns over to the silent Trowa.

"Do as you will." Trowa gave him a wry smile, looking pointedly around the grove and Zechs was aware that wild land was all-around him and none knew it better then perhaps the pilots. Zechs, watching him go, taking both horses with him, then followed the sent of apple blossoms. They stood beside the grove, outside it, as if a gate. There, Wufei was waiting for him.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"Trowa said you would like to speak with me." Zechs felt like an intruder, so kept his voice low. Wufei sat there, his eyes closed and legs crossed, mediating, but Zechs could not help but be sure that Wufei had been aware he was there all along.

"It is true; I have a question for you." Wufei's dark eyes looked up at Zechs, from where he sat in Zech's shadow.

"Oh?" Zechs tilted his head, inviting Wufei to go on and explain.

"I matched blades with Treize before he died, I would like to know if he ever taught you something of the sword." Wufei's hands do not go to the blades at his back as he speaks, and Zechs feels a mix of pleasure that Wufei trusts him, and nervous, for Zechs has studied the skills of the Gundam Pilots one and all, and in this aspect of warfare, Wufei is better skilled.

"He did, though I am not a match in talent to either of you." Zechs takes no shame in acknowledging facts.

"With practice you may master talent." A careful smile crosses Wufei's lips, wary but serene.

"I take it you wish a duel." Zechs, after all, is no fool and can take a hint.

"You would be correct." Wufei nods as he stands, his hands still away from his sword, Zechs can't help but watch him move.

"Very well." Zechs gives a bow, and Wufei follows with a fluid movement that takes the bow and turns it into a stand with sword in hand. Zechs feels clumsy and slow in response, but he moves, and if he can't match Wufei step for step, move for move, Zechs can at the very least hold his own for a time, for a slim chance of mistake.

Moving against Wufei is like swimming against a river, with all the natural force and twists that a surface hides. Wufei uses his surroundings, the forest, and the foliage, to his advantage. His awareness of nature leaves in Zechs a feeling of bitterness. Zechs had taken in nature as something to avoid, something that thwarts a swordsman's technique –it is, Zechs knows as he moves around a tree and stumbles to find the point of a blade at his back – a mistake.

"You did not give yourself credit. You will do, I think." Wufei allows, helping Zechs to stand up straight in the midst of wilderness. His blade has been put away, and Zechs did not see where it went.

"Do for what…?" Zechs asks, off balance in his surroundings and by Wufei himself, who Zechs had felt endangered by, enough to be nearly sure that Wufei had for a few wild moments – wanted to run him though with that blade. To kill him.

"For whom, rather…" Wufei corrects himself with an acknowledging nod. Zechs had never been sure how Wufei and Heero got along; they seemed distant – yet worked smoothly together when it was called for.

"Heero…?" Zechs asks, as he must be sure.

"Yes, Duo saw him watching you last night; he has…become somewhat infatuated with you." Wufei walks away, as if saying that is all he has to say. Zechs follows, can not help but follow really. He wants to know if what Wufei is saying is real, or only what Zechs wants to hear.

"Obsession?" Zechs asks, weakly. He feels sick at the thought; Heero could be obsessed with him for any number of reasons. Zechs had overlooked a few good ones that were negative in hopes that his feelings were returned in part by Heero.

"No, I do not think he means you harm, rather the latter." Wufei corrects, knowing from Zechs tone what dark path his thoughts have gone. It feels all the same for a warning.

"Will you put your sword away now; I think you have made your point." It's a wary metaphor, and gains him a grin from Wufei. That grin is daring, playful – a challenge.

"Have I?" Wufei asks, clearly curious.

"Yes, all of you wish me to not encourage him." That's become clear enough, Quatre simple but subtle show of power and wealth, Trowa's wary ride with him, and now this dance of sword and sharper wit with Wufei. It all meant something, it hinted to his danger.

"I believe you are as dense as Heero. It surprises me, though I should have expected so, like attracts like, after all. No, Zechs, we do not wish to drive a wedge between you and us. The opposite, in fact, is true." Wufei seems not disgusted with him, but amused. Zechs thinks of Heero, and the whirlwind his day has become, from it's origins of night.

"I…don't understand." Zechs does not like to admit he doesn't know where this is going, what is happening between the pilots and the former enemy that they have ever so clearly at their web of mercy.

"I think you will, at the end...for now, go see to Duo he could explain it better then I or the others." Sure enough, when Wufei nods up a tree, there perched in its upper branches is Duo casually watching from above. Zechs stares upward in both confusion and a little bit impressed with a colony born street kid's daring, when he looks again for Wufei, he's gone.

It shouldn't surprise Zechs, despite the flare of white garb that Wufei favors, that Wufei goes so easily with the wilderness. It's like he belongs out here, where as Zechs…clearly does not.

Neither, he thinks, does Duo, but the other manages it clearly enough, and maybe better. Zechs sighs, for he's been bested more times today then he cares for, but claims up the tree, if only to see where Duo will lead this.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"Have a nice dance with Wufei?" Duo asks with a grin and a waggle of his eyebrows that implies more romance in a dance with death then Zechs cares to complicate.

"Duo?" Zechs comes face to face with the pilot, and finds his face turned toward the mansion – it's closer then what Zechs had thought it would be. He's both grateful and suspicious, whatever game or goal the former pilots have in mind, it's drawing to a close.

"The one and only." Duo taps the side of his head and winks, as if this is a secret.

"What is the meaning of all this? Though I haven't proof somehow my instincts tell me you are behind all this…foolery." Zechs, at this point, is very sure of it. All of what he has been though is so very playful, as if a game with masked players. Only the very tangible differing actors had kept him unstable. That he's found his footing in a tree is an irony Zechs can appreciate, even if he feels Duo planned it so.

"Hardly foolish, Zechs, I take all this most seriously." Duo tips his mechanics cap like a nod, and it shades his eyes, which are focused on the mansion as if it's a goal he's trying for but can't reach.

"I do not see how." It's Zechs annoyance that Duo isn't focusing on him that causes him to speak so, but when Duo turns to him, Zechs almost wishes he hadn't.

"Then let me enlighten you, Heero likes you – shows an interest, if you will – the like of which I have not seen him take in anything that was not important to him. Last night, after our bump in, he came to me. He was on your side, against me, against one of us. You do not know what his friendship means to us – he is like a brother to me – but brothers grow up and meet pretty girls and fall in love." Duo leers, and Zechs feels in danger and flattered at the very same time. There is a gun in Duo's hand, and Zechs doesn't know how it got there, where it came from, it's cold metal against Zechs chin, jaw – Zechs, breathless, moves with it.

"…or in this case, pretty boys." Duo whispers the words, as if they are dirty. It feels very much like a threat. If Zechs has crossed Duo with his interest in Heero, and this is a warning, Zechs off balances – in a tree – speaks, for it's all he has left.

"You are implying that he would have an interest in me…" Zechs lets his doubt show, and it stings – it burns him inside that he is denying himself his own feelings. Again.

"Yap." Duo says simply and deadly, as if he knows no other way to be.

"What has this to do with everything that you – I assume – have put me through today?" Zechs swallows against the cold metal of the gun at his throat.

"Do you love him?" Duo coos, and despite himself – despite the danger, Zechs stiffens, offended.

"What business of it is yours?" Zechs hisses, despite the gun in his face.

"He is as good as family to me, don't bother lying Zechs, it really is obvious to someone like me." Duo smiles at him, pleased to have stirred up this defense that Zechs didn't know he had in him.

"Yes, Duo, yes I love him. Are you not satisfied now? Will you not let me be in peace?" If Duo would take the gun away, Zechs could slip away, like a dog with its tail tucked it it's belly.

"Want pie?" Duo asks, playful and serious.

"What?" He's very mad, Zechs is sure. His grin is wide and white and gapping like the jaws of death itself.

Out of the corner of his eye, Zechs sees Duo begin to squeeze the trigger, and Zechs closes his eyes – he can't imagine what he said or did wrong to set Duo off – he feels the cold metal against his jaw and knows this will be over quickly.

It's hot and wet, and water.

"Got'cha." Duo whispers, in sing song. Zech can't help but react to the adrenaline rushing though his blood and body, he lunges for Duo, grips him, unbalanced they tumble out of the tree, shaken and bruised, Zechs rises above Duo underneath him.

"Hey! That's my splat gun…oh, shit…." Duo's eyes are wide and wicked as he sees the glint of metal in Zechs hands and tries to squirm away.

"Don't do anything hasty now, Zechs…." Duo warns, pleads.

"May you have many tangles…." Zechs has no mercy as he pulls the trigger and the black clad boy is drenched.

"Huh." Duo drawls, soaked on the foliage. Zechs is proud of his odd accomplishment, his own wet white hair hanging down to frame that frowning face.

"Evil?" Zechs asks cheerfully, all this buildup leading him to laugh.

"A bit much." Duo whines, jerking his head dramatically.

"I declare this a prank war!" Duo shouts out cheerfully, just as a shadow falls over them. Zechs looks up, and his heart leaps and falls, as he realizes the scowling face looks betrayed, and Zechs sees himself as he must seem, tumbling in the dirt with Duo – both wet and wrestling.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"What is the meaning of this…Duo…Zechs?" Heero is careful, guarded with his words. His eyes don't meet Zechs, but fall on Duo.

"Uh, buddy, nothin' is going on, honest – we all just invited Zechs over for a nice chat about his manners, intelligence, the protection of those he cares for, found out that Mr. Sour even has the most important thing - a sense of humor, ain't that something?" Duo tucks his arms under his head, clearly intending to go no where and unashamed of his compromising position.

"Duo…" Zechs doesn't know if that's a warning or gratitude, but he must speak so he stands up even as Duo lays damply at their feet.

"Heero, I believe what this braided street rat of menace is trying to say is…they are proving me worthy of you." Zechs had hardly any time to think, but the release of tension that had building up between him and the pilots all day has fallen out with Duo's play, and it comes with a epiphany that Zechs could get used to, could learn to like.

"How…did you know I had such feelings?" Heero glances to Duo, suspicious – as he so obviously has a right to – but Zechs shakes his head and draws his attention to himself again.

"Kind of obvious when you threaten a friend about his conduct with a former enemy." Duo mutters from the dirt, rolling over to face Heero on his belly, rather then his back. If it's for his comfort or his protection, Zechs doesn't care to guess. Things are still moving swiftly – nothing is slowing down, but it's coming out to the conclusion.

"Is the perfect solider blushing?" Duo sing songs in a teasing tone.

"Shut up, Duo…" Heero grumbles glancing away.

"He is!" Duo points out with glee, getting up from the ground in a crouch. His braid is suddenly caught by a white clad hand, and Wufei emerges from the wilderness from where he'd gone off in just as easily as he'd arrived again. Zechs has to wonder just how far he'd gone, if anywhere else at all.

"Come, Maxwell, you have played match maker long enough. It is near past your bed time." Wufei gives that braid a tug, but Duo leans into that touch, making it a caress, leaning his weight against the other pilot; his own arm curling over his comrade's shoulders. Zechs wonders if he needs the support, or if it's a trap of Duo's making, or the duel comfort the two obviously find in one another. It's obvious now that Zechs sees it, and he wonders if he was so obvious with Heero.

"Ah, come on Wufei…." Duo whines, despite his words he clutches Wufei to him closely.

"Do you want me to tell you a story?" Wufei drawls, teasing in his own wicked way, for Duo's cheeks turn a startling red.

"Shut up already, I'm coming, I'm coming…." Duo tosses a cheery wink with his wave, as Duo turns away to follow Wufei.

"You will be…" Trowa speaks, having silently approached from a path that Zechs can't make out from the trees. He rides the same horse, and Zechs has to wonder where his own mount went off to.

"Trowa!" Duo pretends astonishment, peeking from behind Trowa's shoulder, Quatre observes.

"I believe Duo was the one blushing…" It's a statement and true, and Duo's blush worsens for it. He looks furious and shy.

"Are they always like this?" Zechs wonders aloud in undertone, noting that Heero had drawn closer to him, to be nearer his friends or Zechs himself, Zechs does not care to guess. But his heart has it's hopes.

"Most of the time, yes...do you mind?" Heero asks with a tilted chin that does something to soften his face in a play of shadows and sunlight beneath the trees. Zechs feels his heart catch in his throat, and it's a wonder he speaks- but he can't hide his awe at what he sees in Heero.

"Not very much, no, it is somewhat heartening to hear them laugh…" But to see Heero, to be near him, and be wholly accepted by his friends – his adopted family – brothers, that was better still.

"May I…kiss you?" Heero asks, shy and sly. His eyes are wide as if he hadn't known what he'd say, or doesn't know how much Zechs wants what Heero dares ask of him.

"Yes, Heero…any time you wish." Zech's voice is husky with promise, teasing Heero nearer. The kiss is brief and warm and lush, it has the promise of everything.