Title: Kill Your Girlfriend
Author: Becka
Pairing: 1x2/2x1. R+1. DxR. 3x2. 1x5.

[mentioned: 4+3. 5+2. 5+3. 5x4. 5xM. 6x5xM. 6x5. 13x6x5. 13x5. 13x6. 6+4. 6+3. 6+2. 6+1. 13+4. 13+3. 13+2. 13+1.]

Warnings: AU/Fussion. Brutality. Character Death(s). Drug use. Incest. Language. OOC. Semi-graphic SEX! Squick. Yaoi & Yuri.

Additional Warnings: Bad jokes. Burger King-bashing. Disrespect for the dead. The corruption of youth. Occasional use of the words "porno" and "dildo." Old men in women's clothing. Parents thinking nasties about their children. Relena-bashing. Smoking and the avocation of illegal substances. Senseless murder/slaughter. Vandalism & Breaking/Entering. Offensive remarks about the elderly, invalids, policemen, politicians, and the church. [Yes, I take joy in my work.]
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing does not belong to Becka; characters are used without permission for a non-profit purpose. No infringement is intended.

Notes:

Well, a while back I found this rather old, _very_ nifty comic, "Kill Your Boyfriend." I read it, loved it, and decided that I needed to write a Gundam Wing / Kill Your Boyfriend fusion. It's taken me a while, but here it is, in its entirety.

There are semi-spoilers for Duo's past, but the main plot comes directly from the KYB comic. Be aware that this fic does contain major spoilers, and in the event that one day you find this stunning comic (I'm pretty sure it's a limited edition, but you might be able to order a reprinted copy from somewhere), a chunk of the dialogue is directly quoted. A lot of the lines are simply too good to pass by and there's not much that I can reword. I've got a list of the lines I used for my own reference; if you really want to know how much of the dialogue is mine and how much is not, I've got no problem sending it to you.

Other than that, Heero is about fifteen, and Duo is about seventeen (though he looks younger). Enjoy the fic and additional notes can be found at the very end.

o

"Hey, Heero, can I borrow your AP physics homework?"

"Hm?"

The brown-haired boy glanced away from the window, eyes unfocused. It took a moment for him to draw his attention back to girl sitting next to him. She sighed, giving off an impatient little puff that blew her bangs away from her eyes.

He questioned politely, "What did you say, Hilde?"

She poked him lightly in the side, exasperated. "I said, 'can I borrow your AP physics homework?' Geez, what's with you?" She leaned over him to peer out the window, then scooted back to her seat. "What were you staring at anyway?"

"Nothing," he replied shortly, pulling his school bag into his lap. Rummaged through it, he looked for the neatly labeled notebook entitled, "Hell."

They were currently riding the bus to school. / Not, / Heero thought savagely, / that the administration would hire a real bus. They just give us the Cepta schedule and tell us to get to school on time. /

He supposed it didn't really matter. After all, teachers and principles weren't _supposed_ to give a damn about you. So long as your parents paid them, nothing else really mattered.

He found the notebook and handed it over to his friend. She nodded her thanks, then set about copying the complex equations to her own notebook, a difficult task considering the bus ride wasn't a smooth one. Again, it really didn't matter. So long as she had _something_ that resembled the equations down, the teacher would check her off as having her work done.

Suppressing a sigh, Heero turned back to the window, watching as the buildings and cars and people blurred into an ever-changing kaleidoscope of color. School was just one of the many facets of his life that he hated. He hated the homework, so simple he could complete it in his sleep, but so endless that it consumed almost all of his time. He hated the teachers who didn't care what he did in class because as long as he passed their tests, they passed him. He hated the sterilized hallways that were either bustling with snobbish, haughty students or totally empty; they made him feel self-conscious and claustrophobic. He hated the cafeteria that served hamburgers that looked like road kill and charged prices no one could afford. He hated everything about it. Everything.

"Hey!"

He glanced up sharply, abruptly shaken from his reverie, and turned in his seat to look at the passengers in the back of the bus. There, all the way in the back, was a boy who looked to be around his age. He was draped across the back seat as though he owned it, sprawled there like he hadn't a care in the world. Bored indigo eyes that seemed much too large for the heart-shaped face stared back at Heero and for a moment he felt his heart drop to the vicinity of his toes. Dressed in a snug black t-shirt and baggy, black cargo pants, well-worn Doc Martins on his feet, the boy practically radiated danger. Heero almost felt ashamed of the catholic schoolboy uniform he had on, grateful that the boy couldn't see what he was wearing.

At Heero's scrutiny, the boy's mouth quirked a little.

"Hey!"

Both of their attentions were drawn back to a fat, balding man in a business suit who stood in front of the boy. The man repeated, "Hey!" again, and glared at the strange youth, infuriated.

"Hey yourself," the boy replied easily, fiddling with a pack of cigarettes. Heero hadn't noticed them before. He knew next to nothing about cigarettes, but from the packaging, they seemed to be of exceptional quality.

Again, the man in the business suit spoke. "My cigarettes. You just stole my cigarettes."

Having noticed Heero's attention had been drawn away from the window, Hilde followed his gaze, then poked him lightly in the side and silently mouthed, "What's going on?"

Eyes wide, he mouthed back, "I don't know."

They were the only two people on the bus to pay any attention to the small drama unfolding in the rear of the vehicle. All of the other passengers stared fixedly out the windows or spearheaded their gazes at the back of bus driver's head, blank expressions on their faces.

"You stole my cigarettes," the man repeated stupidly, livid with anger.

The strange, violet-eyed boy shook his head. "No, I didn't."

The man seemed outraged. "What are you talking about?" he growled, "You've got them right here. Those are _my_ cigarettes. I _felt_ you taking them."

"No, you didn't," the boy smiled. "You probably felt a heart murmur or a stroke warning. I'd see a doctor about that; you're in a dangerous age bracket." He waggled his eyebrows winningly, fingers deftly plucking one of the cancerous rolls from its container. "These are mine." His voice was firm. "I bought them."

As he raised the cigarette to his lips, he paused then deadpanned, "Don't suppose you got a light?"

The man spluttered, reaching out with beefy hands in an attempt catch hold of the boy's slight form. Slipping under the outstretched arms just as the bus lurched to a halt, the boy winked in Heero's direction. Heero blushed faintly.

As the man stumbled forward and landed on the backseat, his face turned bright red and he yelled, "You're a thief! A bloody _thief_! Who the hell do you think you are?"

Unconcerned the boy made his way to the sliding doors and stepped off of the bus.

"Did you see that?" Heero turned to Hilde.

She nodded then muttered, "He _did_ steal them. You could tell just by looking at him." She paused, then added in a disgusted tone, "He's horrible."

With another lurch, the bus started up again. Heero glanced out the window as they pulled away from the curb, spotting the strange boy casually paused on the sidewalk. His cobalt-blue eyes widened when the boy reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter.

Hilde went back to copying the homework and didn't hear him as he softly agreed, "Horrible."

o

"... the female followers of Dionysus were called the 'Maenads;' wild women of the hills who murdered their husbands in an ecstatic frenzy and pledged themselves to the mad young god." The history teacher, a pompous old fool named Mr. Romfellar, moved slowly around the room, walking in between the rows of desks as he lectured. "In the end, Dionysus himself was torn apart by his followers..."

He rapped his knuckles sharply on Heero's desktop and glared at the students at the other end of the classroom. "Quiet in the back."

Because the old man wasn't paying attention to his best student, he completely missed Heero's look of distaste. It was gone after a moment and, blissfully unaware, the teacher began to pace again, speaking in his lifeless, monotonous voice.

Heero ignored him, mind wandering. / I hate this class. Mr. Romfellar just recites the information like a drone. What does he think I'm going to do? Re-write the textbook just because he thinks direct citation counts as notes? /

Sighing, he shifted in his seat to stare longingly out the window. / When are we supposed to be able to live? That's what I want to know. What's the point of all this? The more I think about it, the more I realize that schools are just factories for turning out _robots_. / He picked up his pencil and absently chewed on the eraser. As always, his musings quickly took a decidedly sour twist. / They get you when you're small and vulnerable and they take all the human parts away. Bit by bit, until you're just a wind-up toy. Turn the key and set it running. Then the toy goes to a university, gets a job, and settles down with someone nice... /

A streak of black caught Heero's attention. It was only a small movement, but his peripheral vision spotted it and he fixed his gaze on the disturbance. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw it was the boy from the bus, walking unevenly along a stone fence with a beer can in hand. A truant officer approached him, stance rigid, and said something. The boy simply threw back his head and laughed, flipped his middle finger at the man, and darted down the street before the other could respond.

Heero stared after him until the bell rang.

o

"... it's not at all like the usual fantasy writing style. He's really so _poetic_; it's almost as though I'm dreaming when I read these books," Relena informed him grandly as they stepped from the store, through the doors, and onto the bleak, gray street. In her manicured hands she held her newest purchase, a thin volume entitled, "RuneFest: Trolls in Love."

Heero said nothing, simply stared at her bobbing blonde head as she scrutinized the back cover of the book. She spoke to him offhandedly, taking for granted that he would follow her as they made their way down the empty streets back to her house. He did, trotting at her heels like some sort of demented puppy.

"This is... well, it started as a trilogy and this is the seventh book. I suppose he just had so many ideas. Boys can read it too, you know. It's not just a girly series because it's fantasy. And all the characters are really strong and distinctive." She smiled, hugging the book against her flat chest. "There's this one girl... a sort of sorceress with a magic sword..."

Her high-pitched voice grated his nerves; he'd long since learned to tune her out. / I don't know why I bother to go shopping with Relena. I don't know why I bother to go anywhere with her. She asked me to be her boyfriend and I agreed... but I don't like being around her. If I had a magic sword I'd probably use it to cut her head off. / Trailing her steps obediently, he suppressed a sigh. / I shouldn't be too hard on her. I'll probably marry her or someone just like her. /

Time moved as slow as molasses and it seemed like an eternity before they were even remotely close to the blonde girl's house. He could tell they were almost there, even though he hadn't lifted his eyes from the ground for the past few blocks, because the area had become more populated and occasionally another set of shoes passed his on the street.

Relena continued to talk the entire time. She never seemed to run out of breath or subject matter. Maybe it was some sort of gift, he mused, like the ones you'd find in an action comic book. Come and see Relena, the Motor Mouth! Able to kill with a never-ending stream of words!

"... I was having an argument with those silly Scripture Union people today. I hate them, you know, always going on about God and Jesus when really they simply sit around and drink _beer_ all day. And every time I argue they just say, 'What about Jesus turning the water into wine?' as if that somehow meant he _drank_ it all."

The argument was one of many for Relena. She was extremely self-righteous and had no qualms about letting the rest of the world know _exactly_ how she felt whether they wanted to hear her or not. Sometimes Heero wondered if she thought she was the Queen of the World or something.

"I mean, they're just not interested in _any_ other aspect of the life of Jesus. He's only meaningful to them as a one-man miraculous brewery."

"AMEN! I'll drink to that!"

The couple blinked simultaneously, turning to the source of the noise: a boy reclining on a nearby bench. Beautiful eyes, red rimmed from all of the alcohol he'd consumed, dressed head-to-toe in black as though he'd been dipped in a vat of paint, and Heero _recognized_ him.

/ The boy from the bus! /

The boy tipped an imaginary hat to them, mouth locked in an insane grin. "Afternoon, sirs!" he exclaimed, tipping back his beer can to take another sip. Heero was enthralled, watching the dove neck pulsate as the boy downed what was left of his drink. With a start, he noticed the long, soft braid dangling over the edge of the bench and he felt the insane urge to touch it. He would have, actually, but Relena grabbed him by his hand and dragged him along.

"Who the hell does he think _he_ is?" she fumed. "It just proves what I was saying. No one has morals anymore. The world's sick! Everybody's sick!"

Wisely, Heero kept his kept his mouth shut. In his mind's eye, he visualized the strange boy, tilting back his beverage and drinking deeply, lips pursed around the mouth of the can. He'd seen the boy three times in one day; that had to mean something. Maybe the boy was an omen of death; if looks could kill, Heero knew, the boy could be considered a heart attack on legs.

From behind them, he heard the boy's throaty alto burst out into a rousing rendition of, "I am the very model of a modern major general."

"Everybody's sick!" Relena repeated and he realized sourly that she was waiting for him to say something.

"Except us," he responded dutifully. "We're not sick." / Just different, / he added silently.

He tugged his hand from her grip and fell into step behind her.

As they reached her house, she turned to him with an almost feral smile. "My parents are away for the week, you know. Would you like to come in?"

/ No. / He shook his head, ignoring her disappointed look. "I have homework to do. And I need to study if I'm going to pass my calculus test tomorrow." He didn't really, but it was a good excuse.

"Oh." Perturbed, she brushed her long blonde bangs from her eyes, attempting to tuck them behind her ear. "That's too bad. I was hoping..." her voice trailed off as he shook his head again. "Well then," she pouted, "I guess I'll see you tomorrow after school."

Leaning towards him, she placed her mouth on his and forced her tongue, unwanted, between his lips. To another, her actions might have seemed teasing and seductive, an attempt to arouse him and convince him to stay, but they weren't. Not to him at least. Her touch made him feel dirty, sometimes almost physically ill.

After a moment she pulled back, looking at him from beneath lowered lashes, her cheeks flushed. "See you tomorrow, right, Heero?" Her voice was throaty, but she didn't pull it off nearly as well at the boy from the bus.

He nodded obediently, only wanting to go home.

Relena skipped to her doorstep, calling over her shoulder in a shrill voice, "Are you sure you don't want to stay?"

But he was down the street and gone before she'd even managed to get out the first word.

o

Heero lay on his bed, arms crossed beneath his head as he stared morosely at the cracks on his ceiling, trying to block out the angry shouting that he could hear clearly, despite the fact that both of his parents were a floor below him. Their voices drifted up to him, burdening his ears.

He wanted to ignore them and sleep.

It wasn't working.

"... I can't believe you, Odin! He's your _son_ for godsake! And there you are, pawing through his things, watching him while he sleeps. Do you make a practice of watching young boys or is it just him?"

"Shut up, woman. I was... checking him to make sure he was safe, and why shouldn't I look through his things. He's got nothing to hide, does he? This is still my house and I'll run it as I see fit, so shut your mouth and make dinner."

The brown-haired boy shifted on his bed a little, turning on his side to glare at the barren wall instead. He didn't want to hear this, though it was nothing new. Either they didn't think he could hear them (they were raising their voices loud enough to wake the dead) or they didn't think he was home. Or, more likely, they just didn't care if he heard them.

He didn't _want_ to listen.

"I've seen the way you look at him, you bastard. And don't think I don't know about those... those _magazines_ you keep up in the attic. Ours has been a marriage based on trust, Odin. I _trust_ you to keep your mouth shut when you're up to something disgusting but this... this is sick! He's a boy! He's your son!"

"And I've seen you looking at him the same way, bitch. He's _your_ son, too. If I'm sick, you're just as bad, if not worse, Une. _I'm_ not the one who gave birth to him!"

And so it went on, up until the time his mother called him down for dinner. Something sick inside of her must have insisted that she raise her voice even higher because when she called for him, she screamed.

He walked down the steps stoically, ignoring the looks from both of his parents as they sat down at the dining room table to eat. The conversation was tense, as always.

"You haven't been helping me around the house lately, Heero," Une complained, her eyes narrowing. "You've got responsibilities, young man, and you'd better take care of them."

He didn't even bother to look up from his plate as he answered quietly, "Leave me alone."

"Come on now, boy," Odin murmured, "You know your mother's just been upset since your granddad J passed away. No need to be sulky." He spooned some peas into his mouth and chewed them noisily.

"He didn't pass away," Heero said with a glare, because he had been fond of Grandfather J, "He was beaten to death for his pension."

"Oh!" his mother exclaimed. He wasn't sure if she was surprised he knew what had actually happened or because he'd spoken the damning words aloud. Following hot on the heels of her surprise was anger and she snapped furiously, "I don't believe this! This year is becoming a nightmare. Granddad J's dead and you're just going to joke about it?" But there was a hint of fear in her hard eyes.

"Look," Odin said placatingly, "Let's not argue. We're just worried about..."

"You're not worried about anything except what the neighbors might say," Heero said with conviction. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

They both reached for him then, but he leaned back, shoving abruptly away from the table. "I'm getting out of here," he snarled. "I'm getting out and I'm _NEVER_ coming back."

The door slammed shut and his parents simply stared after him, listening to the angry footfalls as they faded to silence.

o

/ But you always do come back. / Heero cursed himself as he stalked down the street, shivering against the cold. He was glad he'd grabbed his jacket on the way out. / You jump as high as you can and then fall back to the ground and everyone pretends that nothing happened. /

Suppressing a growl, he viciously kicked at a stone on the ground. / I hate everything. /

His mind turned dark and twisted and he savagely thought, / I hate all these faces. I hate this town. I want to see wolves in the high street eating babies and tearing the faces off policemen. /

Closing his eyes, he swallowed the lump in his throat and killed the tears that abruptly threatened to surface. / Hate, hate, and more hate. I feel sick. _Unsavable._ /

Though he hadn't had any purpose or direction, his stomach suddenly rebelled against him and reminded him that the tasteless food he'd picked at for dinner wasn't enough. Across the street he spotted a Burger King and after checking his pockets to make sure he had cash, he made his way over and walked in. The place was empty and there wasn't a line. That was good because he wasn't in the mood to wait.

"Just fries, please," he told the worker at the cash register.

"What size?" The oily man behind the counter looked as though he hadn't bothered to shave for a few days. The chunky face was pocked with indents and pimples and his breath reeked.

"Regular."

"That'll be two dollars and forty cents," the man said. He held out a beefy hand and Heero gave him a fistful of change. The man counted it, nodded, and muttered, "Your fries will be out in a minute."

There was a crash and they both turned to look at the boy who'd kicked the door open. Slim fingers were wrapped securely around a bottle of cheap vodka. It was the boy from the bus.

/ He looks good, / Heero noted, and it was true. Though still clad in his black clothing from earlier, he now wore a black jacket to protect him against the bitter cold, and his hair was rumpled and windblown. The boy stood, swayed uncertainly, then fixed his surprisingly sober gaze onto Heero.

"I saw you on the bus today, didn't I?" the boy asked, eying him curiously. "Want a drink?" The bottle was extended in his direction.

Heero's eyes dropped to the ground shyly. "I don't." He cleared his throat. "I don't drink."

The boy grinned, "Want to start?"

When the greasy man came back clutching the order of fries to his chest, he was surprised to see that both boys were gone. Shrugging, he popped one of the squishy fries into his mouth and grimaced at the taste.

o

Heero and the boy walked along the streets with no purpose or destination in mind. They passed the bottle of vodka back and forth between them, and though it was cheap, it was potent and they drank it straight. After several large sips, Heero felt lightheaded and asked, "Could we find a place to sit?"

Smiling, the boy nodded his assent.

So they made their way to the curb and plopped down amiably beside one another. Heero watched as the braided youth took another sip of the vodka, wiping his mouth off with the back of his free hand.

/ Straight vodka. He drinks it like it's water. /

A gust of wind caressed them and Heero shivered. Suddenly, an arm wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him close against a warm chest. He stared up into the other boy's face and his confusion must have been evident because the boy said, "You're cold, right? So am I, and it's easier to share heat, y'know?"

There was a lengthy pause, punctuated only by small, sloshing sounds as they drank. Then the boy spoke again. "My name's Duo. Duo Maxwell. You?"

"Heero Yuy."

"So, Heero," Duo made the name sound like a prayer, "What's a guy like you doin' ordering fries at some greasy burger joint this late at night?"

Heero opened his mouth, intent on brushing the remark off with some clever quip when something amazing happened. He looked at Duo, who looked at the starless sky, and maybe because he was a lightweight who couldn't handle straight vodka, or maybe because he needed to unburden his soul to someone, he found himself telling the braided boy everything.

They continued to nurse the bottle between them as Heero told Duo about his mother and his father and Relena and the life he knew, the life he hated, the only life he had to look forward to. He told Duo everything, shocking himself because he knew he wasn't supposed to admit all of that to a total stranger. He didn't know why he did it... he just knew he had to.

"I never had a mother or father," Duo said when Heero had finished his story. "They put me in an orphanage when I was a baby. It got blown up a while ago... so I just sort of started living on my own. I've never had a job, either. I knew a man who worked his whole life and all he got was a gift certificate to McDonalds."

"So how do you live?" Heero wanted to know.

Duo smirked and pulled out a cigarette; Heero recognized them as the pack he'd had earlier on the bus. Lighting it up, the violet-eyed boy took a deep drag and replied, "I prey on the elderly."

Swishing the liquor around in the bottle, Heero asked, "Don't they mind?"

"Nah," came the unrepentant answer. "Most of them are so keen to have the company that they're prepared to put up with a bit of brutality at the end."

That stuck a nerve in Heero and he remembered his Grandfather J. "You've obviously led a varied and interesting life," he said, sarcasm thickening his voice (or was that vodka?). Then he swallowed his bitterness and whispered honestly, "I envy you. You don't have parents; I hate my parents. I don't know... sometimes I think I hate _everything_. I hate school. I hate my life. I hate my girlfriend and the stupid books she reads."

He took a sip from the bottle and passed it to Duo with an unsteady hand. "I... I just feel like..." He bit his lip. "... like a terrible person," he finally admitted.

"You're not," the other boy said. He took another drag on his cigarette and blew round O's in the air, then downed more vodka. "You're just _bored._" He paused, then nodded as if he'd come to an important decision. "The only way to stop being bored is to do something interesting. Or criminal. These days it comes to the same thing."

Duo stood up abruptly, pulling Heero with him. "Let's do it now," he smiled.

"Do what?" Heero asked, heart racing.

"What do you think? Come on," Their fingers laced tightly together and Duo gently tugged the brown-haired boy down the street. "Let's kill your girlfriend!"

o

Heero was silent. In truth, as they stumbled along the street, Duo smoking and drinking simultaneously, Heero didn't know _how_ to respond. He was in shock.

Duo's disgusted voice broke him out of his stupor. "Yeesh! Look at the state of this thing! It's an insult to human dignity!"

The hand holding his gently pulled away and Heero saw the other boy fumbling around in his pocket. Producing a set of haggard looking keys, he smiled darkly. That smile only deepened as he leaned against a dusty blue three-wheeler, the sort that old people use to go shopping, and pressed the sharp edge of the key against the door. The scratch he left there was deep and ragged and spanned nearly two feet long ways.

Heero momentarily forgot about Duo's earlier proclamation and said, "You can't _do_ that. Invalids rely on those." The minute the words were out of his mouth, he wondered it they sounded as idiotic to the other boy as they did to him.

"They're built to make cripples look stupid," Duo snorted and pocketed his keys. "Three wheels! Even the fucking _car's_ an invalid." Without warning, he slammed his foot into the side of the vehicle, shattering two of the windows and leaving a foot-shaped dent.

He turned to Heero and extended his hand with a smile, noting the shock there. "You can do it too, y'know. Just let go of all the things people have told you you're not _supposed_ to do, all the things you've always wanted to do. Life isn't fair; it never has been. Besides, vandalism's best when it's totally meaningless. It's what the world's been doing since you were born. Don't you ever want to fight back?"

Heero was about to respond with a negative when he realized that he'd shared everything with the boy in front of him, so why should he bother to hide himself now? "I don't know," he answered as he took Duo's hand and they began to walk down the street again, "I suppose."

They hadn't gone far when Duo leaned over and snuffed his cigarette. He picked up a brick from the ground and nodded towards the house they'd stopped in front of. Heero could clearly see the outline of two older people, a man and a woman, through the front window.

"Here," Duo handed the stone to Heero. "Take this and throw it there." He pointed at the window.

"I... can't," Heero stuttered, holding the rock loosely in one hand and frowning at it. "They haven't done anything to me."

The braided boy moved to stand behind him, wrapping one arm lightly around his waist. Quietly, he murmured, "They're _dead_. Those two are fucking _dead_. Look at them! Why did he ever marry her? Their whole life's been a rehearsal for the cemetery." Duo's breath seemed hot on his neck. "Christ!" he swore, "What does it take to wake them up for one fucking second?"

Heero stared at the brick for a moment, then up at the window. The elderly couple was watching television, calm, empty expressions on their faces. He hated them. Suddenly, he wanted to do more than just throw the brick through the window. He wanted to follow it and rip the two apart, limb from limb. He hated them. The tranquil expressions. The emptiness.

In that moment, he fucking _hated_ them.

"Do it!" Duo whispered fiercely to him.

So he did.

The shattering of glass brought him back to his senses and as he watched the two old people scramble, faces filled with shock and fear, he murmured, "Oh, no."

He felt the arm around his waist tighten and he turned his head to look at Duo's smiling face. "How long have you waited to do that, hm?" the violet-eyed boy asked him, looking at the broken window contentedly. "Didn't it feel _brilliant_?"

Heero felt his mouth break into a wide smile. The first real smile he'd had in a long, long time. "Yes," he said softly, and with that admission came freedom. "YES!"

Hand in hand, they ran laughing down the street.

o

"Oh, God, Dorothy!" Relena groaned. The girl in question was currently licking a path up the inside of Relena's thigh. She lightly blew across a wet patch of skin, causing the other girl to shiver. In the background, on the television, two blondes with perfect bodies kissed each other sloppily as they were taken from behind by smiling, twin, brown-haired boys.

Relena and Dorothy had gotten excited from watching the movie, even now the cries and pleas blared on the surround sound system, and they had no qualms about tearing each other's clothes off and going at it on the couch. Most of Relena's toys and dildos were up in her room, but that could come later. Right now they wanted physical gratification and they intended to have it.

Just when Dorothy finally reached the fleshy folds of Relena's dripping womanhood, the doorbell rang.

"Shit!" they both exclaimed, fumbling with their clothing as they hastily redressed. Dorothy ejected the movie and hid it underneath one of the pillows on the couch as Relena dashed for the door.

"Your parents home early, Lena?" Dorothy muttered darkly. She was hot and bothered and pissed as hell that she hadn't gotten off.

"No way. It can't be them... they _swore_ they'd be gone all week..." the blonde girl replied. "Look, hide upstairs will you? I'll get rid of whoever it is."

"Right," Dorothy sighed and dashed up the steps, taking them two at a time. She cursed under her breath the whole way, but when she reached the top of the stairs, she realized something and smiled. She could get herself off _while_ she waited for Relena, and her mouth watered as she remembered one of the new toys her friend had mentioned to her. Vibrators were _so_ in.

Meanwhile, Relena pulled the front door open. She had a curt dismissal in mind for whoever it was, but she had not been prepared at all for the sight that met her eyes.

"Hello, Relena." Heero stood on the front porch, a strange smile on his face, his eyes wide and glassy. His hands hung loosely at his sides and his cheeks were flushed red from the cold. He looked so gorgeous her mouth went dry.

"Are... are you all right?" she stuttered. "I mean, weren't you supposed to be studying tonight?" She sniffed the air experimentally and her eyes widened further. "You haven't been _drinking_, have you?"

"No." He grinned lopsidedly. Relena had never seen him so carefree.

"You have!" she accused, wrinkling her nose. "I can smell it on your breath. That's horrible! You're _drunk_! I told you it just makes people into idiots and _now_ look at you. Does the world really need more idiots?"

"Yes," Heero smirked, folding his arms in front of his chest, "We're starting a club."

A shadow detached itself from a nearby wall, coming together to form Duo Maxwell. In stark contrast to Heero's joviality, Duo's face was somber as he puffed on his cigarette. "Is this her?" he asked shortly.

Relena pulled back in shock. Her arms found either side of the door and she used it to support herself. "What's _he_ doing here?" she demanded, beads of sweat gathering at her temples. "What's going _on_ here?"

"I want a word with you," Duo said, coming to stand behind Heero. Though the blonde girl couldn't see it, he placed a supportive hand on Heero's lower back, a gentle, unobtrusive reassurance.

"What are you talking about?" Relena shook her head and little wisps of tangled hair plastered her face. Confused, she challenged again, "What's going on?"

"Look at you standing there," Duo muttered darkly. "'What's going on?' 'What's going on?' You'll be saying that 'til the day you fucking _die_, which might be sooner than you think." The braided boy stepped forward, putting Heero protectively behind him. "You're killing this boy's dreams. You're smothering him and you don't care. You don't care about anything but yourself."

Heero watched, wide-eyed. / He... he's doing this for me. /

Relena found it was easier to focus on her anger and ignore the fear that twisted her gut. She sneered, "Who do you think you're talking to? I'll phone the police. They'll lock you up in a padded cell." Her lips curled back even further. "I'm not scared of a drunken moron like you."

"You should be," Duo said softly as he pulled a gun, complete with silencer, from the folds of his jacket and pointed it at Relena.

The blonde's eyes widened. "That's not real," she said, taking a step back. "It's just..."

The shot ripped through her body and blood splattered the pristine walls. She backpedaled and fell like a rag doll to the floor. More blood bubbled on her lips and she choked, "… oh shit... it went off... you stupid bastard..."

Duo cocked the gun again and her already pasty skin went stark white.

"... wait... don't just... my mom'll be..."

He fired.

Twice.

Gore splattered the walls and blood so dark it looked black pooled around the blonde girl's cooling body. Her white skin made Heero think of a broken dove, body crumpled on the snow like a discarded tissue. So much blood. It was everywhere.

"Got a bit carried away there," Duo said, sounding genuinely surprised as he stared at Relena's body. He reached into his side pocket and pulled out the vodka bottle. He placed the bottle to his lips and drank deeply even as he fired a final bullet into the dead girl's face.

The braided boy looked over to Heero, smiling bashfully as he absently scratched the back of his head with the gun. "Shit," he blinked, holding out the empty bottle. "No more vodka."

Heero stared at Relena's corpse, then turned to look at her killer.

/ I didn't think he'd really do it. He just... killed her. No remorse, no pity, no regard for the sanctity of human life. She was my future and he killed her. / Heero stared at Duo, mouth parted slightly. / I think I'm in love. /

Duo turned and walked away from the house, tucking the gun back into wherever he got it from. Heero stood unmoving in the doorway, cleared his throat, and pointed out, "I seem to have a vacancy for a boyfriend." The violet-eyed boy glanced over his shoulder and Heero asked, "Interested?"

o

Dorothy sighed, bored of waiting for Relena to come up. She'd already played with all of the other girl's toys; now she wanted someone to play with her. "Lena..." she whined to the blonde who wasn't present, "I want to fuck..."

Coming to a decision, she crawled out of the bed, slipping into a see-through nightgown and made her way down the steps.

"Lena...?" she called out softly. "Lena, where –"

She froze, eyes widening so that nothing was visible except the whites. Her nostrils flared. Blood. Blood _everywhere_. Blonde body limp and full of wholes like some kind of demented pincushion. Blue eyes frozen in time. What was left of them, at least. Relena?

Dead.

Dorothy wasn't aware of opening her mouth. She wasn't aware of the neighbors who came to check her. She wasn't aware of the people who milled around her, the paramedics whose very presence was a joke. She wasn't aware of anything, and when they sedated her to stop her screaming, she welcomed the darkness with relief.

o

"What are we going to do now, Duo?"

Together they stood in the doorway of some wayward apartment building. It was cold and damp out and the alcove provided them with much-needed shelter. Duo inhaled a lungful of smoke, and Heero wrapped his own jacket tightly around his body. He continued quietly.

"We've been in the city for _hours_. It's getting late. What are we going to do?"

Duo shrugged, his eyes scanning the streets. There was a predatory gleam in them that made Heero shiver, a shiver that had nothing to do with the below-zero temperature. "Don't worry about it," the braided youth said. "Something'll turn up."

The amethyst eyes narrowed. "There. Do you see that guy across the street?"

Heero nodded, taking note of the older man, probably in his forties, who was leaving the building across the street. A long, gray trench coat covered him from the neck down.

"Come on."

o

Mr. Gerald (better known as Dr. G to his... friends) looked up as a young brown-haired boy approached him. Wide, naïve, blue eyes met his and the boy took a sharp breath, then said, "Excuse me, sir. There's been a terrible accident..."

"What?" Dr. G blinked, "What do you...?"

An empty vodka bottle hit him squarely on the top of his head, shattering into one hundred prisms of light, broken pieces of different shapes and sizes. The older man slumped to the ground, letting out a soft gurgle, and proceeded to bleed all over the sidewalk.

Heero stared at the neck of the broken bottle in Duo's hand, then down at the man. "Is he okay? He's not moving."

Duo knelt by the still form, cigarette dangling from his lips. Placing a hand over the man's heart, he blinked, "I don't _believe_ this. I think he's had a heart attack. He must have had a bad heart..." The boy looked up to Heero, his mouth quirking slightly. "That's not so bad then. He would have died anyway. He could have even died at the wheel and caused a horrible accident." A pause, then, "It's not real murder; we've probably saved innocent lives."

"What do we do with him?" the shorthaired boy questioned, scanning the empty street. A soft exclamation of surprise drew his attention back to Duo and the old man.

"Here, look!" Duo peeled back a flap of the man's trench coat. "He's wearing women's clothes under here. He must be someone important." He shook his head. "Poor bastard. What a tragic, undignified way for a man to die..." The braided boy hooked his hands onto the coat and hauled the old man up over his shoulder. "Tell you what; there's an alley over there. I'll dump him in the garbage bin."

/ Wait... / Heero followed Duo to the alley, then placed one hand on the other boy's shoulder. "Wait... he must have money or something." They searched the gartered and pantyhosed body quickly, and while they found no money, Heero did come up with a set of keys.

They made their way to the building, the one they'd killed him in front of, and walked in. There was a number on one of the keys and they matched it to its door, a room on the fourteenth floor. Heero's hand searched for Duo's and he clung to the other boy tightly.

/ First murder. Now breaking and entering. / Heero mused, / At what point do you stop being a young offender and become a hardened career criminal? /

The inside of the apartment was nice. Someone had taken the time to tastefully decorate, and the clutter was minimal. In short, it was nothing special. However, there was one closed door in the apartment that caught their attention, the door that led to the bedroom. As they entered the pitch-black room, Duo swore, "Christ! Smell that perfume? It's like a big fluffy toy died in here or something..."

The braided boy flicked the lights on. Taking in the scene, his eyes widened and he simply said softly, "Wow."

In the center of the room stood a large canopy bed covered in pink, silk sheets. Dirty magazines and porno movies littered the floor. The walls were covered in posters of men and women in various states of dress and undress. Shelves were lined with whips and chains and handcuffs, some metal and some padded. A camcorder had been set up in one corner on a tripod, near the television and the sound system.

"Look at this! It's like some kind of shagging palace!" Duo said as he made his way through the room, examining whatever caught his eye. "Told you something would turn up. I've always been lucky with accommodation."

Heero felt a grin threaten his mouth and he went over to play with the camcorder. It was state of the art so he said the first thing that came to his mind. "All of this stuff... it's like Hollywood."

The braided boy picked up one of the magazines and flipped through its well-worn pages. "Aww, look! It's all men dressed up like women. That proves it; he must be a member of Congress."

"Does high office and female impersonation go hand in hand?" Heero asked quietly, browsing the video selection. His eyes widened at the cover of one of the porno movies and he murmured, "This is another world, isn't it?"

"It's biblical," Duo shrugged, moving to stand by his side. "Sodom and Gomorrah, y'know?"

After a few more minutes of poking around the room, Heero walked to the closet and opened it. The inside was lined with all sorts of clothing, all sizes and styles. Animal print, leather, vinyl, chain mail, and plastic were the most prominent themes and Heero whistled softly. "These wouldn't fit him... he must have other people up here, dressing up. Probably the whole cabinet."

Duo followed him, eying the clothing as he agreed, "It's funny to think that decisions affecting all our lives are being made by men in crotchless panties."

"Aa. But it's all from catalogues. You can tell."

"Hee-ro." His name was spoken on a sigh and, without warning, two strong arms encircled his waist securely, and Heero was pulled up against a hard, very _nice_ chest. A warm mouth that wasn't at all nasty, like Relena's had always been, moved slowly down his neck, and the hands slid sensuously down his sides.

Duo murmured against his skin, "I wouldn't mind seeing you in some of this stuff. You'd look even more beautiful."

The blue-eyed boy whimpered softly as teeth grazed his throat, and just as abruptly as he'd been accosted, he was released. Duo turned away and as Heero stared at the rippling back, sheathed in black, he thought, / Why not? /

He blindly grabbed a couple of hangers of clothing and made his way into the bathroom. The countertop was littered with various cosmetics, condoms, and lubricants. Remembering the old man who was now in the dumpster, Heero suppressed the insane urge to laugh.

/ Well, why not? There's a whole world out there. A world of drinking and drugs and dancing. A world of taxis driving you home at five in the morning with the memory of lights and colors and pounding music. Why should I study for exams when I could be out with Duo, dancing in the studio audience of some late-night TV program for the under-25's? /

His hands seemed to know what to do and he found that he didn't need to concentrate on dressing up. It was instinctual.

/ I want... I want to be someone who everyone looks at and _wants_. I want to be a wild kid before it's too late and I'm married with fifty brats and a wife who hates me. I want this. /

Staring at his reflection, he picked up a tube of glitter from the countertop.

/ So... why not? /

Back in the living room, Duo continued to search the area. Finally he paused and knelt by the cabinet beside the bed and popped open the top drawer. He grinned.

"I knew it!" His hands picked up one of the many carefully packaged sets of pills. Under his breath he murmured, "There's all sorts of stuff in here: poppers and pills and everything. You could open a fucking _pharmacy_ with this."

He'd just finished sorting through all of the drugs, finally settling on one of the small, neatly labeled bags when he heard a noise behind him. Without turning around, he said, "That you, Heero?"

"Aa. It's tight and I feel weird. I feel like a transvestite."

Duo turned to look at the other boy, his breath catching in his throat.

Heero twirled with a smile. "How do I look?"

The shorthaired boy looked like something out of a wet dream. His slender legs were sheathed in supple, black leather pants that hung low on his hips. His Doc Martins were a match for Duo's. His shirt was a blood red, sleeveless mesh that pulled tautly across his chest; it did nothing to conceal his skin. In one hand he held a transparent-blue plastic jacket and fingerless mesh gloves that matched his shirt encased his hands. The skin at the base of his neck seemed to shimmer and Duo realized that there were several tasteful streaks of glitter there.

Softly, almost in awe, Duo told him, "You're beautiful."

Heero ducked his head shyly. When he looked back up, Duo was still staring at him appreciatively.

"What you have to understand," Heero told the other boy, "is that I'm not _real_ anymore. I'm just a figment of _his_ imagination. I'm no longer responsible." He ran one finger across his lower lip. "That means I can do _anything_."

The braided boy took two pills from the plastic baggie he held and extended his hand to Heero. "It's E. There's five taps in here. Let's get high and go dancing."

"Okay," Heero nodded, smiling at Duo. While he was dressier than Duo, the other boy still looked gorgeous. He wondered how many stares they'd get.

"I've seen all the documentaries but I've never actually taken drugs before." Heero knelt beside the other boy. "What does it do?" He opened his mouth and Duo placed one of the tablets on his tongue.

"You'll see," Duo smiled, popping the other tab into his own mouth.

o

"Oh my God!" Heero grinned insanely, eyes wide. "Oh, WOW!"

Hands linked, they walked down a crowded street full of men and women dressed in bright, flashy clothing that revealed everything. Every once in a while, someone would whistle at them or call out, "Hey, gorgeous!"

They laughed together and Heero babbled, "Everything's all full of light! It's beautiful. This is the most amazing thing! I can't stop talking!"

"That's alright," Duo told him, giving his hand a little squeeze. "You're so totally sexy."

The braided boy paused for a moment, then pulled Heero to him and claimed his lips. The kiss was sweet and Duo's taste lingered in Heero's mouth, only heightening his desire. The hand linked with his tightened a little more, possessive, and Heero nearly purred.

Pulling back, Duo said, "C'mon! Let's find a club. "

So they did.

o

The crowd pressed in around them, swaying to the music. Heero was pushed against Duo, but he didn't mind. Their bodies moved to the pulsating sound, grinding and bumping against one another. The violet-eyed boy threw up his arms and lost himself in the beat, and Heero couldn't stop smiling. Everything was wonderful. Brilliant! The lights seemed brighter as they flashed and twirled. The music permeated his very soul. Duo's scent, heady and musky and so good, filled him and he could still taste the other boy on his mouth. Every touch made him want to grab Duo and go back to the room and fuck until he was satisfied.

Heero wrapped his arms around Duo's neck, and two hands settled at the base of his spine. Holding on to one another like lifelines, the shorthaired boy whimpered softly as Duo nuzzled the juncture at the base of his neck lightly.

"Take me home."

Duo glanced up at him, eyes dark with passion (or was that E?). "What?"

"Take me home," Heero repeated. "I want to fuck you 'til you scream."

o

The door to the bedroom they'd acquired burst open, and Heero and Duo stumbled in, assaulting each other with their hands and mouths. They stumbled across the room and fell on top of the bed, mindless of the magazines they crushed.

"Oh, God," Duo groaned, hands fumbling with Heero's leather pants. "This your first time?"

Heero barely had the presence of mind to nod. He watched through hazy eyes as Duo's hand fumbled around for something. The braided boy managed to find a half-used tube of lubrication and, once the rest of their clothes had been thrown haphazardly across the room, he went to work.

"– want you –" Heero breathed, exploring the other boy's body with his mouth.

"Nn," came the response, "God... a lot of guys can't get it up on E... guess we're lucky..."

"Lucky," Heero echoed.

And they were.

Twice.

o

"Why won't anyone stop?"

A sky blue car, '39 Ford, whizzed past.

"Six hundred twenty-one."

"Maybe we should have taken that guy's car."

A pale red blazer, '89 Chevrolet, zoomed by.

"Six hundred twenty-two."

"We had his keys."

Two cars, one a shiny, apple-red '83 Cadillac, and the other, a neon-yellow '71 Ferrari, raced past them, side by side.

"Six hundred twenty-three, twenty-four." Duo ran his fingers through his bangs and sighed, "I know. I should have thought about that."

Heero looked over to the other boy, all the while keeping his thumb stuck out in an age-old symbol used by hitchhikers everywhere. They'd been sitting on the grassy side of the main road for nearly an hour, taking turns trying to get a ride. Perhaps they might have been more successful if Heero hadn't kept the leather pants, mesh shirt, and blue jacket outfit that he now wore religiously. Duo had told him he looked sexy in it, after all.

The braided boy took a moment to light up a cigarette, then wrapped steely arms around his legs as he nursed it thoughtfully. Cars whizzed by, not even bothering to slow down, and he continued to count them in a bored voice.

"Do you think they found her yet?" Heero asked, never taking his eyes from the road. "Relena, I mean. Do you think the police found her?" He smiled a little. "She always wanted to be in the papers. Pity she won't be around to enjoy her celebrity."

"Dunno." Duo shrugged and blew a smoke ring.

Hesitantly, Heero voiced the question that had been on his mind for most of the morning. "What'll we do if they come after us?"

A white '97 Toyota honked at them, but it didn't slow down as it passed them.

"BASTARD!" Heero yelled after the car.

"Dunno," Duo repeated calmly, "No point in worrying about it."

"I guess... it's just..."

There was a squeak of tires as a mammoth bus, spray painted in bright, neon-pinks and yellows came to a screeching halt on the side of the road. The shorthaired boy blinked. It reminded Heero of a school bus, but there were two levels to it; it could probably fit two families of six and still have room left over.

Duo grabbed the black backpack they shared from the ground. Curiously they approached the vehicle just as the side door and only entrance slid open. A tall boy stood there, bangs drooping over to obscure one of his eyes. / Did something die on his head? / Heero wondered, taking in the stranger's appearance. He was handsome despite his odd hairstyle, and dressed in loose khakis and a green turtleneck, he looked like a nice boy. His smile, though barely noticeable, was cunning.

"Hello," the boy greeted. Gesturing to the inside of the bus, he said, "Waifs and strays?"

"We're looking for a lift," Heero told him. "Are you going to... ah..."

"Anywhere?" Duo quickly picked up.

"As a matter of fact, we are. Anywhere and everywhere." The boy backed up into the bus and nodded for them to follow. "Hop on."

Duo sauntered onto the bus first, offering Heero a hand up which was gladly accepted. They trailed the strange boy through the interior which looked more like a house than a bus. Someone had taken a great deal of time and money to remove the seats and convert the area into spacious, tasteful living quarters. Beside him, the braided boy issued a low, impressed whistle.

"Look what I've found," Road-Kill boy (as Heero had privately taken to referring to him) called out. "Come on and meet the others," he said in a softer voice to Heero and Duo, "They're all very nice."

Lounging on one of the couches was a tall man in combat gear: a black jacket, camouflage pants, and black boots. The heavy, golden chains around his neck seemed totally out of place. He had brown hair pulled back into a short ponytail, wore sunglasses even though the shades over the windows were closed, and the tips of extremely pointy eyebrows peeked out over the tops of those sunglasses.

"This is Treize," Road-Kill boy said, jerking his thumb to the man on the couch.

"Yo," Trieze said, sitting up. Heero could tell the older man was undressing both of them with his eyes, even if he couldn't _see_ those eyes, hidden behind the reflecting black glasses.

"Hi," Duo said shortly, wrapping one arm possessively around Heero's waist. Heero simply smiled.

Another tall man with long, blonde hair, made his way over to them. His white shirt hung open at the top, revealing a sliver of skin, and was puffed at the sleeves, tied off there with lengths of ribbon. "I'm Zechs," he told them primly, his voice honeyed. "I do hope you're going to be entertain us. Life on this miserable bus is becoming increasingly tedious. We find ourselves praying for a traffic jam just to relieve the monotony. And the delinquent currently driving –" Zechs pointed to the girl at the wheel, "is currently calling herself Jailbait. You can call her Merian."

Merian winked at them in the rearview mirror, "Hiya!"

"Oh," Road-Kill boy said thoughtfully. "You can call me Trowa. Or Nanashi... that's what the cruel bitches from my boarding school used to call me." He folded his hands across each other and fixed his single visible eye on Duo. "Have you read 'Giovanni's Room'?"

"No," Duo shook his head, "But I've a pretty good idea what he keeps in it. Surely the church frowns on sodomy, father."

Heero blinked, looking back and forth between Duo and Trowa. It took him a moment to realize that, by Trowa's stance and folded hands, he must have been trained as a priest. Or a brother.

Still eying Duo, Trowa responded, "Yes, but then the church frowns on everything. Except, of course, on frowning." He paused, the small, cunning smile still curling his mouth. "And I think I have an idea who you two are."

"The brutal murder of an innocent girl," Zechs chimed in. "Strike any bells?"

"_Real_ murderers?" Treize stood abruptly, casually slinging his arms over Heero's and Duo's shoulders with a sharp smile. "Sweet."

"Hn," Heero frowned, pulling away from Treize.

"We've never murdered anyone," Duo smiled easily, shrugging taller man's arm off his shoulder. "We're not interested in murder. Just hitchhiking and wandering and that sort of thing. Outdoors stuff."

"We'd love to believe you," said a sweet voice from behind them, "But somehow you don't look the fresh-air type."

They turned. Two boys, similar in height, stood in the doorway of one of the rooms. The one who had spoken had short, tussled, blonde hair and fair skin. He wore a bright pink shirt emblazoned with the logo, "Nihilist Assault Group." His white lab coat was studded with all sorts of pins: an upside down button that read, "I am smart," an obnoxious smiley-face, a marijuana leaf, a nuclear warning symbol, and countless others. His smile was freely given and his teeth were pearly white.

The other boy had black hair, slicked back and pulled into a ponytail. An unbuttoned, short-sleeve, black shirt hung on his shoulders, revealed a refined, bronze chest. Black leather pants clung snuggled to his hips and knee-high boots encased his feet. Fishnet stockings ran from wrist to elbow and a string of dog tags jingled at the base of his throat. Both ears were pierced in six or seven places and a matching piercing graced the edge of his eyebrow. He licked his lips and took a slow drag on his cigarette, then smirked, "They don't, do they?"

"I'm Quatre," the blonde introduced himself, then nodded to his companion, "And he's Wufei. Don't worry; we won't turn you in to the authorities. We'd really prefer to have you join our mobile operation." His took a breath, then launched on. "We're artists, you see. Anarchists. We've kicked down the doors of the White Fangs Art Institution and we're bringing art to the people."

Wufei sauntered over to Heero, running a finger along the plastic blue jacket. "Nice," he said.

Quatre ignored him and continued, "This ongoing project is all about exposing the insidious theme-parking of our culture. Our whole _county_ is turning into a museum and they're making us pay to get in." He shook his head. "Our ultimate destination is _Oz_, the shoddy seaside prostitute with its carousels and glittering lights to dazzled the masses into submission. We're going to strike back!" His voice began to rise, caught up in passion, "We're going to bring an explosive new art and culture to the pleasure beach! We're going to tear up the attraction at its roots!"

The shorthaired blonde grinned slyly, extracting a hand grenade from the inner folds of his lab coat. "And blow up Oz Tower."

o

Later that day, Heero and Duo stretched out across the full bed in the room they'd claimed for themselves. The bus ride was surprisingly smooth and Heero snuggled next to the braided boy, smiling up at the Technicolor ceiling.

"It's getting harder and harder to remember what I used to be like. Especially here – everything's different," he said softly, then smiled as he remembered Quatre's welcoming speech. He replayed the scene in his mind.

"We'd like to be known as 'style terrorists,'" the blonde had said, "We believe the only true art objects are guns and bombs. We throw outrageous parties; we live for art and violence." Then later, when Heero had asked him why people use knives instead of paintbrushes, he just gripped the steering wheel tightly and grinned, "I'm afraid I'll have to answer your question with another. Have you ever tried driving under the influence of one thousand micrograms of LSD?"

Suppressing a snort, he reached over and took Duo's cigarette, inhaling a lungful of smoke. Duo smiled at him and kissed him and he forgot about Quatre all together.

o

Almost a week later, the bus broke down. Duo had surprised them all when he'd volunteered to help fix it, even more so when he'd revealed he was an ace-mechanic. Heero had decided to grab something to drink at a nearby coffee shop and Merian and Wufei had asked to accompany him.

Cobalt-blue eyes stared out the window, following the play of Duo's muscles beneath his shirt as he worked on the engine. Even a parking lot away, the braided youth still looked beautiful.

Taking a slow drag on his cigarette, Heero smiled at Wufei then blew a steady stream of O's into his coffee cup. He sipped the bitter liquid, oddly amused at how the brand and his lover shared the same last name. He even had to suppress the urge to laugh when he realized while he was drinking Maxwell, he would much rather be drinking the _other_ Maxwell. How did that commercial go again? Ah, yes..."Good to the last drop."

Heero snickered.

Wufei studied him, then sighed, "Look at you sitting there. You're every girl's fantasy and I think most of the guys in this place wouldn't mind having a go at you, either. It proves what I've always said – people don't want love; they want leather."

"Oh, leave him alone, Wufei," Merian propped her chin up on one hand, "You just want him to fuck you, that's all."

Heero smiled and took another sip of coffee. He'd already talked to Duo about this and the braided boy had simply held him close and said, "Hey, life's too short to be bored. Have fun."

o

Later that night, Heero and Wufei stumbled to the bedroom the onyx-eyed boy had to himself. They fell on the bed, kissing and touching, pulling away the layers of unneeded fabric.

"Your pants are so sexy," Wufei groaned, grinding his body against Heero's.

"I'm not wearing any pants, Wufei." Heero murmured as he laced his fingers in the Chinese boy's loose hair, pulling him down for a long, sloppy kiss.

o

At the same time, in another bedroom, Duo stretched out on the single. He took a drag on his cigarette and casually flipped through one of the magazines he'd borrowed from Zechs. Behind him, Trowa groaned softly.

"Christ," the green-eyed boy panted. "Oh, God..."

With a gasp he grabbed two fistfuls of the gloriously free, chestnut hair. Duo's head was abruptly yanked back, the cigarette still dangling between his lips.

"Oh, God, dear God in heaven," Trowa moaned as he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. With his fingers snared in Duo's hair, he continued to piston himself into the braided beauty's tight ass, bucking wildly as he felt his release near.

Calmly, Duo took another drag on his cigarette and told the other boy, "I've never shied away from experimentation, father. Do your worst."

Trowa didn't seem to hear him.

o

"... that's Cassiopeia up there. The one that looks like a 'w.'" Heero pointed to the constellation with his free hand. His other hand held Duo's. "And Polaris is there on the tail of the little bear. See it?"

The two boys were lying beside each other on a grassy hill with the entire sky clear above them. The bus had unanimously decided to stop for the night and Heero and Duo had snuck out to spend some uninterrupted time with one another.

Duo spoke around his cigarette, "You make me realize I'm an astronomical virgin; I can just about identify the sun."

"My father taught me the names of the stars," Heero confided to his lover. Tightening his grip on the braided boy's hand, he voiced the thoughts on his mind, "We're just passing through, aren't we? The world doesn't notice us coming or going... it's been here so long, what are we to it but two small, insignificant, transient flames." A pause, then: "We're just like smoke."

Looking up at the stars, Heero continued his confession. "I used to love listening to the shipping forecast on my radio, under the covers. It was like being in bed with ghosts. Ships of faraway seas."

Taking the other boy's surprisingly long and revealing words in stride, Duo responded simply, "We're nothing like smoke."

They stared up at the stars in silence for a while, then Heero rolled over on his side and looked at Duo's content face. Eyes half-lidded, he murmured, "I love you."

"I love you too," came the soft reply as Duo turned his gaze away from the stars and smiled. Abruptly he pointed upwards to the sky and exclaimed, "Look! A shooting star! I wish I was a millionaire!"

"It's just a plane, baka," Heero said fondly. "You'll be lucky if you find extra change in a payphone."

o

Everything went well for Duo and Heero. They stayed with the White Fang art students, enjoying many of the finer things in life (sex, drugs, and alcohol being only the tip of the iceberg). Heero, for his part, couldn't remember a time when he'd been happier. All the conditions and rules that had been imposed on him his entire life were miraculously gone and he felt as though he could do anything. Being able to talk to Duo about what he was going through helped immensely; the closeness they shared gave them the gift of total honesty.

From his time on the bus, Heero had noticed a lot. Wufei, for example, was into casual sex. He couldn't get enough of it! Everything, absolutely everything, seemed to put him in the mood to fuck and he'd grab almost anyone given the chance. Zechs, Treize, or Quatre were candidates, though Merian seemed to be his current favorite. Heero himself had been caught as an unsuspecting victim several times (not that he'd complained). Trowa and Duo were the only ones Wufei hadn't gotten to, apparently, though not for lack of trying.

Treize also expressed interest in everyone, except Merian. From what Heero could tell, he'd made passes at Quatre which hadn't been reciprocated, slept with Zechs and Wufei on a regular basis (sometimes at the same time if the noise level was any indication), flirted outrageously with Trowa who held himself aloof, and constantly hit on Duo, who didn't have any interest in taking him up on his offer. While Treize was an attractive man, he simply came on too strongly. Besides that, Heero didn't want to play bottom to anyone except Duo.

Zechs was much the same way. He slept with Trieze and Wufei, together or separately, whenever he had the chance, and he'd made passes at both Duo and Heero. Duo had privately told Heero that while the blonde was undeniably sexy, his attitude made him unbearable at times. Heero conceded that point – Zechs reminded him of Relena, always carrying an air about him that clearly said he was important. It was almost as though the man believed he was royalty. Personally, Heero found his excessively flowered language a turn-off. Zechs had tried to coax Quatre and Trowa into his bed, but neither the brunette nor the blonde had taken him up on the offer yet.

In contrast, Trowa hadn't expressed a visible interest in anyone on the bus other than Duo. Heero felt possessiveness streak through him every time the taller boy casually laid a hand on Duo's shoulder or accidentally brushed against him. At first Heero had been jealous and each time Trowa touched Duo, he'd grabbed his lover by the braid, dragged him to their shared room, and marked him in the only way he knew how. The violet-eyed boy had immediately seen what Heero was trying to do and simply laughed. Placing a kiss on the top of the shorthaired boy's nose, he'd smiled, "Don't worry about him, beautiful. He and I are like you and Wufei. I don't _love_ him; I love you." Then Duo winked, "Not that I mind the sex. Cigarette?" and offered him his pack of Camels.

Next on the list was Merian. Merian seemed to genuinely care about Wufei and hadn't expressed any interest in Heero or Duo other than casual friendship. She was constantly hyper, leaving Heero to believe that she either hit the Pixie-stixs religiously, or she was on one of Quatre's concoctions. Neither would have surprised him.

And speaking of Quatre... the shorthaired, blonde boy was nice enough. He seemed to like Wufei and he flirted with Trowa, but he hadn't made a song and dance about his sex-life like Trieze and Zechs had. He did, however, have the habit of breaking out into long speeches, mostly fixated on his anarchist beliefs. And that was what set Duo off on him today.

"Look," Duo gritted his teeth in frustration, glowering at the shorthaired blonde with unconcealed irritation, "All I'm saying is, you're always talking about taking action but we never fucking _do_ anything!" He pointed a finger at the blonde. "It's been almost three weeks since we joined you, so when are we gonna' do some of this art you keep going on about?"

Treize stretched languidly from his place on the couch and shrugged, "Look, man, you're drunk. Calm down."

"We know what you're saying," Quatre said, extending his hands out, palm-up, peaceably. "But you must understand that this is more of a _conceptual_ project. If we start breaking the law, we'll never get an Arts Council grant..."

Trowa watched the confrontation silently, eyes amused.

And confrontation, it seemed, was another of the many things that put Wufei in the mood to screw, so the small Chinese boy grabbed Zechs and yanked him into one of the bedrooms, ripping clothes off in a flurry, and barely managing to close the door decently. Merian smiled and shook her head, then pulled the bus to the side of the road, off into a small, cozy shopping center. She slipped out of her seat and darted into the room with Zechs and Wufei.

Ignoring the flurry of action his words had caused, violet eyes narrowed menacingly and Duo growled, "I can't understand a word you're saying! You've got a fucking hand grenade! So far all I've seen is you talking about wanting to blow things up, so when are we going to _do_ something." He paused, then smiled darkly. "If you won't do something, we will."

With that the braided youth turned and stalked out of the bus and Heero ran after him to catch up. Trowa looked as though he wanted to follow, but Quatre's hand on his arm prevented him.

"What are we going to do?" Heero asked softly, trotting beside Duo as he stalked across the parking lot.

Duo offered him a small smile and responded, "I want some cake."

And while normally this wouldn't have been a big deal, Heero shivered involuntarily. He recognized the tone of voice Duo used to speak. It was the same tone the braided boy had used when he'd decided to kill Heero's (late) girlfriend.

"There," Duo pointed to a pastry shop at the far end of the lot. There was a minimal of cars parked in the front of it, so Heero assumed it was mostly deserted. "That place looks good. What do you think?"

Reaching for Duo's hand, Heero smiled and repeated, "Looks good."

The braided boy paused to give his lover's hand a little squeeze, and the two of them continued to the shop.

o

Dr. O glared at the owner of the "Ms. Noine's Pastry Palace," and said, "High blood pressure? Ms. Noine, I've never let any other doctor tell _me_ what to do. Why, I remember the time when I was out riding and my prostate erupted..."

Noine, a petite but pretty woman, grimaced and wondered how many pastries she'd need to give him before he would _stop_ relating her with tales of his youth.

At the moment, Dr. O was her only customer which meant she didn't have an excuse not to listen to him. And he _was_ her best customer, religiously coming for his tea and crumpets every day, but as much as she loved the old man, he _never_ shut up.

Without warning, the door to her shop was flung open, hitting the wall so hard that the glass rattled, and two young boys stepped in. Epyon, her brown beagle, barked at the intruders. /yap yap yap/

Noine was about to ask the two boy what they wanted when one of them, the one dressed from head-to-toe in black, pulled a gun out of the folds of his jacket and pointed it at her with a grin.

o

"Look, we're starving and we want some of your cakes," Duo said, smiling. "If you don't give us free cakes, we'll kill you."

"We will, too," Heero placed a hand on Duo's shoulder. He pointed his ring and middle fingers at the attractive woman and mouthed, "bang." In his mind he was adding armed robbery to his list of felonies committed. It was a long list.

"This... this is an _outrage_..." spluttered the old man, the only other occupant of the room besides the shop owner and the dog.

"Shut your face, granddad." Heero glanced sideways at him. "You heard him."

The dog scurried around under the tables and continued to bark at them. /yap yap/

Heero sauntered over to the cash register, knowing without a doubt that Duo's eyes were fixed on him. Opening the register, he said, "We want money, too. We're going to take all of your money and spend it on crap."

/yap yap yap/

"Money and cakes," Duo smirked, "That's all we want. We'll spend one and eat the other."

/yap yap/

"We've got a gun, you know." Heero pocketed all of the money from the cash register and grabbed a tray. He picked through the pastries, wondering which ones Duo would like best. "Killing's second nature to us."

/yap yap yap/

"I'm phoning the police!" the dark-haired women threatened, watching them through wide eyes.

"Do it," Heero shrugged and sampled a creampuff. "We'll be gone before they get here and you'll just look like fools."

/yap yap/

Duo smiled at Heero. Everything was perfect, but the damned dog was _really_ starting to grate his nerves. Keeping his gun fixed on the woman, he knelt down by the beagle who continued to yap at him. Barring his teeth, he met the dog's eyes and snarled, "RROWWF!"

The dog shut up, tucked it's tail between it's legs and ran behind the woman's skirt.

Heero snickered.

o

The old man and the woman watched Heero and Duo warily as they munched contentedly on their cakes. However, their snacking was interrupted as a rev from outside attracted their attentions. Blinking, Duo glanced out of the window. His eyes widened. "The bus!"

The yellow and pink two-floor school bus pulled away from the curb, kicking up a trail of dust as it left them behind.

Heero swore softly. "Those bastards are taking the bus!"

The old man smiled darkly at this as he reached for the phone. "The police will be here any second. You won't get away with this!"

Duo and Heero stared at each other, eyes wide. "Well... shit!"

Together they raced out of the pastry shop. Heero's heart had _stopped_ when the bus pulled away and left without them. It was only now beginning to catch up with him, but he trusted Duo.

"What are we going to do?" he asked as they ran through the parking lot. Sirens sounded up in the distance.

Duo's shoulders lifted and fell a little, the best shrug he could manage while running at top speed. "I dunno," he said, "Find a car."

Once they cleared the shopping center, Heero spotted a cemetery that took up almost two blocks. He was surprised when Duo grabbed his hand and pulled him towards it. The only cars there were...

The shorthaired boy grinned. There was a funeral procession just pulling in on the other side.

Duo hopped the stone fence with ease, taking a moment to offer Heero his assistance, then grabbed his gun from the inside of his coat and pointed it at the smattering of people by the newly dug grave. "Outta' the way," he yelled. "Everybody outta' the way!"

"Good heavens," the priest, an old, tired looking man, exclaimed. The rest of the procession shifted restlessly, frightened by the lunatic who was waving a gun around, but no one screamed.

Duo ran to the first car in the procession and yanked the door open, pointing his gun at the driver. "Get out! Get out or you're gonna' be pissing through a fucking catheter for the rest of your life!" [1]

The driver's eyes widened, but he said in a fairly steady voice, "Sure, all right," as he slipped out of the car with both hands in the air.

"Reasonable men at last," Duo said as he hopped into the driver's seat and revved the engine. Ignoring the coffin in the back of the car, Heero slid into the passenger seat and buckled his seatbelt. The car lurched forward.

Before they could pick up any real speed, the priest ran out in front of them, waving his arms wildly. "Stop! Stop the –"

Heero pointed to the robed man with a small smile. "Ten points," he said.

"Fuck!" Duo swore as he hit the priest. The man thumped up against the windshield, then fell to one side. "Sorry, Father."

Glancing in the side view mirror, Heero saw the driver help the priest to his feet. The older man didn't look too badly injured, but there was the possibility of internal damage he supposed.

"I wish I hadn't said that about nobody being hurt. That's the sort of thing that gets held against you in court," Duo muttered as they sped away from the cemetery.

o

Heero panted softly, arching up against Duo as the braided boy slid into him to the hilt. "Nn," he groan, grateful for the support of the car hood he was bent forward over, "Christ! Yes!" Neither of them worried about being heard; they'd found a deserted forest to ditch the car in, so there wasn't another soul around for miles. It wouldn't have mattered if they were in the middle of an amusement park, at that point. Adrenaline is the _best_ aphrodisiac.

Duo planted a hand on either side of him, fingers clawing at the hood as he tried to keep his balance, a difficult task as his lover bucked against him with abandon. His braid spilled over his shoulder and one of Heero's hands sought it out, holding onto it like a lifeline.

They both reached their climax at the same time, and Duo gave a soft cry before folding forward over the other boy, gasping to catch his breath. Soft lips kissed the back of Heero's neck gently and he murmured quietly, "... love you."

o

Some time later, after they'd cleaned themselves up (an exercise which involved much licking on both their parts), Heero and Duo sat next to each other on the hood of the car. The braided boy pulled out a cigarette from his seemingly endless supply and lit it up. Taking a puff, he offered the roll to Heero who accepted.

"So," Duo said, letting out a lungful of cancerous air, "Where do you want to go now?"

"Dunno," Heero answered honestly. Contemplating the smoke thoughtfully, he offered, "We could just go to that amusement park Quatre kept talking about. What was the name... 'Oz?'" He passed the cigarette back to Duo.

Taking another drag, Duo nodded. "Sure."

And that was that.

o

Back in the small town where both Heero and Duo had been raised, their actions had not gone unnoticed by the authorities. The string of vandalisms had been reported and each and every time, the descriptions of the criminals had matched: two boys, one of whom had a braid and violet eyes.

"We've been after this guy for a while now," Dekim Barton, one of several police officers in the room, told Heero's parents officiously.

Odin shook his head, "You don't think _our_ son is a criminal, do you?"

"Nasty piece of work, his is," Dekim continued, ignoring Odin as he pulled out a picture of a young boy with bright eyes and a braid. He flashed it to both parents. "He's just the type we're looking for in today's police force. Isn't that right, Marimaria?"

The young woman who'd stood faithful by Dekim's side smiled a little and responded, "Too right, sir."

"Sadly," Dekim shook his head, "this young villain won't be bought with promises of free narcotics and all the porn his right hand can handle. Which leaves us with only one alternative: hunt him down like the crazy animal he is."

"Surely that's a little... harsh," Odin said, frowning. He placed a comforting hand on Une's shoulder.

"I know our son would never get involved with someone like that. He's a very quiet boy. Studious. He's won prizes!" Une shook her head, eyes wide.

"So you say," Dekim sighed, "but the descriptions we've gotten recently match your son, and you _did_ report that he was missing around the same time, did you not? The truth is sometimes an ugly thing, ma'am." He nodded once and said politely, "Thank you for your time. We'll see ourselves out."

When they were gone, Une shook her head, "I don't _believe_ this. How _could_ he?"

Odin simply looked at her and muttered, "We _all_ have our guilty secrets. You too." He paused, then added slyly, "Or have you forgotten that little package in a cardboard box to the local orphanage seventeen years ago?" His eyes narrowed. "The stork brought it; you sent it back by second class parcel post."

"You promised _never_ to talk about that, Odin!" Une exclaimed, her eyes wide. "I was young, inexperienced, and drunk on rum and coke with a twist of lime. If I could have kept him, I would have." She fell back on the couch, burying her face in her hands, "Oh, God, everything's gone insane since dad died."

o

"Anything worth stealing, sir?" Marimaria asked curiously.

Dekim glared at her and hissed, "Keep your voice down, for God's sake! Tip this muck out into the drain would you?"

o

"Odin?" Une blinked. "Where's dad's urn?"

o

Meanwhile, after several days of alternately walking or hitchhiking, Heero and Duo finally reached their destination: the unbelievably crowded amusement park, Oz.

"Watch out!" Duo exclaimed.

The man across from Heero was dressed in cowboy chaps and an earth-colored vest, a bandana was tied around his neck, a well-worn hat perched atop his head, and a gun holster slung low on his hips. "Draw," came the western voice.

"Kill him! Quick!" his lover urged. "Kill him!"

Heero handled his gun with newfound skill and fired at the screen. A yellow and red *POW* appeared on the man's chest.

"Yes!" Duo cheered, sweeping him up in strong arms. They twirled in front of the video game screen, laughing. It was the fourth time in a row Heero had managed to defeat the Mad Dog shooting game.

"Mmm." Heero smiled and wrapped his arms around Duo. "I'm getting almost as good with a gun as you. It feels... comfortable."

"Yeah. It's good to have common interests, isn't it?" Duo leaned in for a kiss.

They were just about to go for another round with the Mad Dog game, but a flash of neon-pink and yellow caught Heero's eye. He blinked once, wondering if he was hallucinating, then reached over and pinched Duo.

Duo yelped, "What was that for?"

Heero pointed to the two-level bus that had left them several days before. "Look! It's them."

The braided boy rubbed his arm and stared. "I'll be damned..."

o

"You just drove away!" Heero glared at Zechs, suppressing the urge to plant a fist in his perfect face. "You totally let us down!"

It had taken Duo and Heero only minutes to reach the bus and board, shocking the others with their appearance. Zechs was the first to recover and stepped forward, trying to pass off some pathetic explanation to them.

"We were looking for somewhere to park and got lost..." the longhaired blonde held up his hands as if to fend off their furious verbal attack.

"Shut UP!" Duo snarled. "Standing there with that stupid blouse on, like you're Ricky fucking Martin!"

Zechs wisely backed away, a pout on his face. "I beg your pardon," he huffed. "And it's not a blouse, it's a _shirt_..."

"We were just testing your revolutionary principles," Quatre temporized, "The fact that you're here now proves that you're... umm... committed to the project... that is..." He trailed off and swallowed, apparently unable to stand in the face of both Heero's _and_ Duo's wrath.

Heero put his hands on his hips and sneered, "All your talk about anarchy and insurrection! All you ever do it try to shock old people and the middle classes. Christ! _Anybody_ can do that. Real people don't care about your idiotic 'art.'" He paused, then added, "Are you really just going to sit there and do nothing?"

"Probably." Merian spoke up from her perch on the couch. "It's what we're used to."

Duo leaned over her and growled, "You've got a hand grenade here." He produced the grenade out of nowhere, causing most of the bus (especially Quatre) to blink in surprise. The blonde patted down his pockets, shocked that the braided youth had been able to lift it from him with such ease. Duo continued, "You said you were gonna' blow up Oz Tower!" He got close enough in the girl's face that she flinched back. "Well?"

Quatre coughed politely and stuttered, "Only in a conceptual sense. We wanted to juxtapose the image of the tower and the... ah... the grenade." He twiddled his thumbs a little. "Would you mind putting that down, please?"

The braided boy smiled grimly, "I wouldn't mind shoving it right up your ass."

Trowa blinked his one visible eye in surprise. "No need for tha–"

Suddenly a loud, whining filled the air. Duo turned towards one of the windows, eyes widening. "Shit!" he swore. "Sirens!"

"It's the police." Heero's heartbeat pounded loudly in his ears.

Duo sighed, "Typical. The minute you start enjoying yourself, they show up with flashing lights!"

The braided boy grabbed Heero's hand and together they shoved past their startled "friends." Hopping out of the bus, they took off at top speed. Heero didn't know where they were going until he spotted Oz Tower, the largest building in the amusement park, which had been modeled after the Eiffel Tower, looming in front of them.

Duo drew his gun and waved it around to clear a path for them. Heero heard him curse, "I should have known! Shit, I should have known!" They reached the entrance to Oz Tower easily. "Never trust a bunch of fucking art students!"

"Out of the way! I've got a gun!" Duo yelled, waving his weapon in the air as they darted inside to tower and to the stairs. "I've killed loads of people and I'll kill you too if I have to!"

Everyone scattered and Duo and Heero ducked into the stairwell, running as fast as they could.

"Christ! This is killing me." Duo huffed as he ran up the stairs that would take them to the top of Oz Tower, "I've got to give up smoking..." He breathed heavily. "We've gotta' stop here."

The braided boy glanced over the side of the tower. It was easy to do because there was nothing to separate the rest of the world and them, no glass, nothing! The tower was all steel beams and stairs and it wasn't until the very top that it became a building again.

"Shit," he swore, looking at the hundred-yard drop, "There's like a hundred cops down there. This is it, I guess." And he pulled out a cigarette.

Heero smiled. Some things never changed.

o

"It's all over," Dekim Barton announced into the megaphone. "Come down quietly."

He lowered the megaphone and looked at Marimaria. "Those sniper's in place?"

She nodded demurely. "Yes, sir."

o

"Shit," Duo rummaged around in his pocket with a frown. "I'm out of matches."

Heero began to search his pockets absently. "I think I might have some–"

A single shot rang out, catching both of them off guard. Duo cried out in pain, stumbling back and dropping his unlit cigarette. Blood blossomed in the middle of his chest.

"No," Heero whispered, stepping forward to catch his lover in his arms.

o

"Got the bastard," Dekim said smugly.

o

Heero helped Duo to sit against one of the steel beams. The braided boy winced in pain and cursed, "Jesus Christ! Fuck!" He coughed and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. "They're good shots, these guys..." he trailed off, suppressing a moan of pain. After a moment he continued, "They must train them... that's where your mom and dad's tax is going..."

"Oh no... oh no..." Heero's eyes filled with tears and he pressed one hand down on the wound in an attempt to slow the bleeding. "You're not going to die, are you?" His other hand tenderly cupped the side of Duo's face.

"Dunno," Duo groaned, leaning into the caress. "If it had anything to..." he gritted his teeth, "... anything to do with me, I wouldn't..." He squeezed his eyes shut and gasped, "SHIT!" When he opened his eyes, he smiled lopsidedly at Heero. "We didn't even get to try rimming..."

"Maybe there's still time," Heero smiled weakly.

Duo reached into the folds of his jacket and pulled out a small square of brown paper with two stamps on it. "Here," he said, "These are the... the stamps from the package I was... oww... found in when I was a baby. They... they kept them for me 'cause my mom had... licked them."

"No, Duo..." Heero took at stamps and clutched them in his hand. "No no no–"

"Shhh, Heero. It's okay." Duo cut him off, leaning forward and kissing him hard on the lips. And for a moment, it was.

The violet-eyed boy leaned back, whimpering in pain. He managed to choke out, "Help me up. I haven't finished yet..." As Heero helped him get to his feet, Duo moaned, "Bastards..." Together they looked over the ledge and Duo muttered, "I can't whistle... look... Christ!" He stared at the people milling below then said again, "Why can't I whistle?"

Heero wrapped his arms securely around Duo's waist and asked, "Why do you want to whistle?"

"I... I thought it might cheer us up," came the quiet reply. Then, "I don't know if I can do this... will you push me? See, if I do it right, I think I can hit a policeman. Might as well get in my community service while I still can..."

"I love you, Duo," Heero whispered, swallowing the painful lump in his throat and ignoring the blurring in the corners of his eyes.

"You know," Duo answered thoughtfully, "I didn't think I'd ever fall in love with anyone." He paused and smiled sadly, "Thank God our relationship's never going to have to stand the test of time."

They looked at each other for a moment and Duo smiled. "Later, Heero. I'll see you in the next life."

Heero pushed him.

o

"Christ!" Dekim swore, "He's airborne!"

o

It didn't seem like Duo could do as much damage as he'd hoped, but as Heero slumped down against one of the steel beams he remembered something and smiled.

/ He was a thief and an outlaw to the end. /

Oz Tower and most of the park was wracked with a thunderous *BOOM.*

/ I can't believe he stole the hand grenade from the bus... /

Heero picked up Duo's discarded gun, tucked it into his blue plastic jacket, and in the midst of the confusion as the authorities and police officers tried to douse the fires and deal with injuries from falling debris, the shorthaired boy simply turned, climbed down the stairs, exited Oz Tower, and walked away.

o

Solo St. John suppressed a soft sigh, digging around in his pocket for some loose change. His irritating mother had nagged him nonstop for nearly two hours before he'd decided he needed to escape for a while. His father was conspicuously absent. / Big surprise, / he thought savagely. / Damn it all, why don't they even bother to _try_ to understand me? They just open their mouths and it's like I can't hear anything but static. Damn it, I hate them... /

He sighed, brushing a shock of dull auburn hair from his eyes and wondered if he had enough money to buy a cheeseburger and fries.

/ The only place open at this hour is... Burger King. Shit. / He drove his fist into a nearby wall with enough force to bloody his knuckles.

Behind him an amused voice said, "You look like you could use a drink, kid."

Solo spun, blinking as he came face-to-face with a young man who he'd never seen before. With tussled brown hair that looked as though it hadn't been combed for days and bright blue eyes the color of sapphires, the other boy was probably the most beautiful person he'd ever seen. The leather helped.

"I don't..." Solo swallowed, eyes flickering to the left, "I don't drink."

If Solo _had_ been paying attention to the strange boy in front of him, he would have seen a sad, reminiscent smile play across the lovely features. The expression only lasted a moment.

Heero Yuy held out the bottle of vodka he'd been downing and smirked, "Want to start?"

o

fin

o

Additional Notes

[1] I can't remember the original line, but it was something like, "Tell me what you did to Mulder or you'll be pissing through a catheter for the rest of your life." I love this line. It's not mine, but I love it. If any of you are avid X-files fans, you'll remember the episode where Mulder switches bodies with a skeevy, old guy. Scully says this to said skeevy-guy once she figures out he's not Mulder.