[i will catch you when you fall] Title: I Will Catch You When You Fall
Author: danse
Pairing: 1=2

++++

a pure soul
and beautiful you
don't understand
don't feel me now
I will breathe
for the both of us

- Stand Inside Your Love, Smashing Pumpkins

~*~

AC 197. Christmas Eve.

Heero fell. I wasn't there to catch him; I was off saving the free world someplace else. It didn't deserve saving if that meant I couldn't be with him to support him when he needed it, but history unfolds how it unfolds, and there's not much you can do about it sometimes.

I finally saw him again the next June; he was hale and healthy. Bored out of his mind, too. We were both on Earth briefly, doing the Preventer thing, and we met for coffee and started talking and completely ignored the coffee. After a surprisingly short two hours, when I could see him starting that whole, 'I'm getting ready to go now' routine, I made him give me his cell phone and programmed my number into it, and after staring at me for a second, he took mine too and did the same thing.

We stood up and gave each other a nice, manly hug in front of our mostly untouched, cold cups of expensive coffee before parting ways.

AC 202. Christmas Eve.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around, smiling apologetically at the good-looking woman I was chatting up over my glass of champagne. Heero was approximately the last person I was expecting to see standing behind me, but there he was, dressed to the nines and scowling like he'd just walked straight out of one of my memories.

I noticed that he made an actual effort to scowl less at me. I think it was supposed to be a smile. "You never did call me, you know," he said dryly, sipping at his champagne and wrinkling his nose at the taste. I guessed my theory that it helped feed his sense of humour was a bit off, then.

"Yeah, well, you never called me either, did ya?" I wittily countered, stuffing a hand in my trouser pocket and swirling the contents of my glass absently with the other.

"Yes, well... busy. You know how it is," he said vaguely. "God, this tux is uncomfortable. Since when did Preventers Christmas parties have to be black tie?" he muttered, tugging at his bow tie.

I sympathized. "Since you decided to show up to one, I guess. Looks good on ya though, 'Ro. You ladykiller," I grinned, kind of wanting to nudge him with my elbow but not really having the freedom of movement necessary in my tailored jacket.

Heero rolled his eyes, hiding his annoyed look by hastily swallowing more champagne and raising a hand vaguely as Relena breezed by in a white gown, winking at him. They certainly didn't look as item-y as the tabloids would have you believe. "The other guys around still?" I asked. "I saw Q a couple hours ago, but he hadn't really seen anyone else yet...."

"He and Trowa were here but I think Trowa got called away for something, so they left. Chang never even showed up. He hates these things, though." He rocked back on his heels, setting his champagne glass down on a nearby table and crossing his arms.

"More than you?" I teased.

"It's not even the party part, it's the Christmas part," he grumped back. "I need something stronger than champagne. Care to join me?" He was already walking away, making his ever-so-generous offer of hospitality in transit.

"Yeah, okay," I said, abandoning my own champagne and following him to the bar. I got there just in time to see him turning back to me with a full bottle of whiskey and two short glasses, his eyebrows raised in a silent question. I shook my head in disbelief and then scanned the room, finally pointing to my left, where there was a wall of glass doors leading to a dark garden. We were in the South of Former France, in the heyday of global warming, and there was no holy hope of Christmas snow or cold there, anyway. I took the lead and he followed me to a patio table and chairs in a quiet part of the garden, setting down the bottle and glasses before collapsing in his chair with a loud sigh.

"So, what are you doing these days?" he asked gruffly, undoing his tie and top buttons before reaching for the bottle and uncapping it.

I watched bemusedly as he poured healthy measures into our glasses and pushed mine closer to me. "Oh, you know, the usual. The one thing I miss about guerrilla warfare is the lack of paperwork," I said glibly, picking up my glass and clinking it against his as he snorted at my joke. I took a healthy swallow and wheezed a little; it was good quality stuff. "You?"

"About the same," he said softly, slouching in his seat and staring up at the stars, his glass hanging slackly in his fingers. He'd already emptied it, I noticed with surprise. I looked up at the stars, too, looking for L3 and L5, which would be out tonight, shining steadily against the flicker of real suns. The lights from the party were killing the starlight, though, and there was a bit of a moon, too. I looked back over at Heero, who had just refilled his glass and was drinking again. Self-consciously, I started working on mine in earnest. I hadn't expected a race, but I was apparently going to get one.

After the second silent refilling of my glass (I wasn't even counting his own refills, but the bottle was emptying pretty damn fast), I sat up in my seat and looked at him hard. He'd shucked off his jacket, stuffed his tie in his pocket, and rolled up his sleeves, and he was drinking like it was a wedding reception with an open bar. I set down my glass on the table gently, trying to decide if I could phrase my thoughts in a way that wouldn't get me punched, and looked up at him to see that he was now watching me warily. He cocked one sharp eyebrow at me, and I was suddenly talking before I could stop the words coming out.

"So is this a Christmas tradition? Getting wasted as fast as possible? You look like you've had some practice."

Heero breathed out slowly, looking like he was deflating, and then hauled himself upright and set down his glass. He shifted in his chair to face me over the whiskey bottle and gave me that look of his. The look he gives people when he wants them to pay attention. I paid attention.

"It's just... it's Christmas," he said. "It's peace and love and spending time with your family and acting all thankful for everything you have and I can't do it," he spat, eyeing the bottle again but not reaching for it. "I have no family, five years ago tonight I was fighting a war while people were putting up trees and singing, and I hate my job and I hate my life and... just... fuck." He finally grabbed the bottle and filled his glass again. I watched the liquor slosh its way in, bubbles bursting on the surface from the force of his pouring. Jesus, most of the bottle was gone, and not that much of it was in me! I eyed Heero; how drunk was he right now?

When he raised his glass angrily toward his lips again, I reached out and pushed it back down. "Yeah, I got all those things going for me, too," I said lightly. "I, on the other hand, was just trying to enjoy myself and maybe get laid tonight before you started this drinking contest and pity party." I grinned, but it slipped off my face when I saw the guilty look on his.

"Sorry about that," he said. "I didn't realize you were, uh, busy. Look, I'll let you go back in there; you might still have a chance with that girl...." he said vaguely, lurching out of his chair.

I saw what was coming and was on my feet just as Heero's betrayed him. He collapsed into my arms and nearly knocked us both over, the glass that was still in his hand sloshing whiskey over its rim and onto my shoes. He groaned with what was probably drunken embarrassment (oh, how I'd never expected to hear that combination coming from him) into my elbow, because I'd kind of caught him around the chest and his forehead was now braced against my bicep. I smiled a little at the ridiculousness of what had just happened and helped him stand upright, my eyes widening a little as he swayed against me.

Heero braced his hands on my shoulders, leaning back to squint at me in a way I could only describe as adorable. "Duo?" he said.

"Hmm?" Our faces were close enough to kiss, and even though I was feeling lightheaded with drink myself, I could smell the liquor on his breath.

He paused. "Did I just spill booze on you?"

I glanced down involuntarily at my shoe. "It's fine, Heero. That's why they invented dry cleaners," I said quietly, my hands on either side of his waist to keep him from pitching forward and knocking me on the ground.

That wasn't good enough for him; he made a disgusted noise and buried his face in my shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm so screwed up," he mumbled into my jacket.

I looked around the garden nervously, hoping no one (especially no one with a camera) would hear his dramatic cries and come inspect the scene as I carefully hugged him and patted his back. "Heero, buddy, you're not a screw-up. You're the most amazing person I know. You've had a tough-as-hell life, and there's no shame in some self-pity now and then. I know I've spent some quality time with Mr. Daniels over there myself, when I've gotten stuck, but I always bounce back and you will, too."

He let out a shuddering sigh that I felt through my whole frame and hugged me close, his hands catching my braid behind my back. I could feel the vague tugs of him running his fingers up and down it as we stood there quietly. I looked up at the stars again and couldn't see them any better than I had before--in fact, it looked like there were clouds gathering now. I wondered if some cheerful Christmas rain would fall on us as we kept standing there, leaning into each other for support, possibly growing roots. The thought didn't bother me, because I was feeling the calmest and most comfortable I had in years.

Eventually he stirred and stepped back the length of his arms to look at me, his vision looking a bit more focussed than it had several minutes earlier. I think Heero has the metabolism of a hummingbird. He reached out and smoothed back my hair, letting his hand fall to clap against my shoulder. "Duo, you're the best friend I've ever had," he said slurrily. "No one else keeps me so grounded."

"Not even Relena?" I asked, raising an eyebrow mischievously. "I think she'd like to."

He huffed. "Relena. Yeah, that would never happen. She's not my type and I'm not hers, either, and I think she knows that, although she would never actually admit it." He turned his attention back to me again, and I could tell he was studying my face. His looked a lot more tranquil than usual. "Sorry again that I pretty much cockblocked you tonight," he continued, looking kind of bashful.

I chuckled, looking down at my feet. We'd both stuffed our hands in our pockets by then. "Don't worry about it. I don't think I was really gonna score with that chick anyway. She kept looking at some other guy on the dance floor while I was talking to her." Yeah, I made that part up. Anything to make him stop looking like he wanted to kick himself, though. He was like a puppy sometimes, in that when he looked sad you could find you just had to do everything in your power to make him, well, less sad-looking, anyway. For as long as that could last.

I shook off my reverie and looked up from my shoes, opening my mouth to start making excuses to leave or something, and was unnerved when I met his eyes and saw the way he was looking at me. I raised a hand to my chin, feeling shaken by the stare he was giving me. "What, is there something on my--"

He swooped in suddenly, his hands going to my shoulders once more as he crushed his lips against mine. After a second, he must have regained his balance, because he eased back and was kissing me sweetly. I could taste the whiskey on his lips.

We parted, him blinking slowly and me gaping like a dead fish, but I thought then that as much of his balance as he'd regained, he was still too drunk to really realize the implications of what he'd just done. He was still barely inches away from me, and I felt my face get hot.

"I. Uhhh." I suddenly wanted to take off my jacket, like he'd done a while ago. God, was it ever warm outside tonight. At Christmas! I remembered how to make actual words come out again, and phrased the first question that came to mind, which surprisingly wasn't anything close to, 'what the fuck?' "Heero..." I started hesitantly.

"Duo," he said back, and I could feel his breath touch my lips. I licked them nervously.

"So, Relena's not your type, you said. What is your type, then? I was never sure."

He studied me. "I like long hair," he volunteered.

"Oh yeah?" What else could I say?

"Mmhmm. Really long."

"You a boob man? I bet you are," I responded, feeling warmer by the second.

He wrinkled his nose immediately. "Never saw the point," he said, slurring his words a little still. "I like legs, though. Nice, long, muscular legs. Like they're chiselled outta rock." He leaned even closer. "You, sir, have very nice legs," he said against my lips.

I never imagined I'd ever have a conversation like this one. "Heero, are you coming on to me?" I asked, edging back a little.

"Yes," he answered instantly. "Been wanting to since I first saw you in that tux tonight. You look incredible."

"Uh, thanks, I guess...."

"I'm so glad I showed up to the Christmas party this year," he continued. "I was hoping you'd come because I missed you like crazy and I thought it was too late to call you by now." He snorted. "Four and a half years without a phone call, we're fucking pathetic! Anyway, my point is, please don't ever leave me again, because I don't know what I'll do to myself if you do."

I'm rarely speechless and don't like to be, but right then, I think I was allowed. "Um, you're really hammered, and I don't think you know what you're saying right now...."

He pinned my lips shut with a finger. "The more I see, the less I know. And they call that stuff liquid courage for a reason. If I wasn't drunk, you'd never hear this from me and I'd just keep on suffering in silence or whatever and go crazy and stuff. I've loved you for ages. Marry me. Don't ever leave."

"Okay, I think you need to sit down," I said, overriding his protests. I'd let him go on too long as it was. I forced him back down in his chair and finally peeled off my jacket, feeling the welcome touch of cool night air through my dress shirt.

"You don't like men, do you?" he said from right behind me. He'd gotten up when my back was turned and snuck up on me. I whirled around. He was glaring at the ground. "I'm sorry. You don't like men. I...."

"I don't have any particular preference," I snapped back. "I'm just trying to keep my best friend from making a fucking asshole of himself, that's all!"

"So you're just scared, then?"

"What?"

"The whole idea scares you." He stepped back into my personal space, looking more in control.

"I think you need to back off."

He did the opposite; he leaned in and kissed me again, harder and still drunkenly, but being very Heero and in charge about the whole thing. He pressed up against me and squeezed my ass through my dress pants and I moaned into his mouth in spite of myself, because it felt so good to be kissed by him like that, like he was about two breaths from shoving me up against the nearest wall. I felt him grin into my mouth and he backed away again, breathing at least as hard as I was and looking very self-satisfied.

"That answers that, then," he said, still smiling a bit as he grabbed his jacket from the chair, missing on the first attempt but snatching it on the second.

I was just standing there where he'd left me, stunned and hyperventilating.

"Is your phone number still the same?" he asked as he stuffed his arms into the sleeves.

Focussing on him with a lot of effort, I nodded.

"I'm goin' home to sleep this off. I'll call you this week, alright?" He reached into his pocket, pulled out his tie, looked at it, and stuffed it back in. "There's a New Year's party comin' up. We should go."

"...Okay," I said, wondering to myself if I was ready to fall asleep or wake up.

"Merry Christmas, Duo," he said as he collected himself and walked back into the party.

"Merry Christmas, Heero."

~*~

The end