Title: Catholic Schoolboys Rule!
Author: Link Worshiper
Pairings: 1=2, 3=4, mentions of others
Stuff: AU, pokes at religious institution, fluff/sap, angst, lemon topping and a bit of drag XD
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Sunrise, Bandai and a lot of other people who aren't me. +5 skill points if you guess the title reference.

Filling a request for Rainya, because she feeds my geek needs. Thanks to Natea for the once-over.

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IV.

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"So who taught you to fence, anyway?" Wufei asked Heero after practice one day. Though Heero had only been a member of the team for a little more than a week, Wufei had already promoted him to be his second hand on sheer skill alone. "You have a certain flair that's quite unique."

Heero stood off to the side with an armful of foils and epees as he watched Wufei busy himself with neatening up their practice space. He had to admit that, while he and Wufei hadn't gotten to be particularly close, he still found a lot of qualities in the Chinese teen he respected very much. He especially admired how Wufei seemed to be in constant control of everything around him, from heading the fencing team right down to how the pillows on the dorm room sofa were arranged. "My father is... very adamant about keeping in shape," he told Wufei slowly. "It was one of the hobbies he was insistent I take up, even at a very early age."

Wufei straightened up, finally satisfied with the state of things and then moved to heft the large equipment bag containing all the protective gear over his shoulder. "How young were you?" he grunted as he adjusted the strap on his shoulder, trying to find a good balance.

Heero shrugged as best he could with his arms full, in all honesty not quite sure. "Five or six?" he guessed, supposing it really didn't matter all that much.

Wufei stopped to look over his shoulder at Heero, amazement written all over his face. It was hard to tell if he was impressed or shocked by Heero's statement. "Are you serious?" he gaped. "Even my family didn't really start pressing me about that kind of thing until I was at least twelve or thirteen."

"'Only strong people will change the world'," Heero said with a twinge of malcontent. "That's what he'd always say."

Wufei spent a few seconds regarding Heero carefully before responding. "Then I'm sure you'll reshape the course of history," he said at length. He didn't push the conversation after that, sensible enough to sense that it was making Heero tense, and instead continued leading the way to the equipment storage room in the back of the gymnasium.

Wufei went on his way after Heero had helped him put all the gear away, mentioning something about a research paper he needed to work on. Heero wasn't in any particular rush to get a jump-start on his assignments, so he elected to just wander around the gym in search of some other form of entertainment. There were still a few teams holding practice, so he figured he'd just find a good one to observe for a little while.

Sooner or later, he found himself in a dark stretch of hallway, where the overhead fluorescents had fizzled to blackness. A lone triangle of golden light spilled out of an half-open door in the middle of the unlighted hall, and the rough sounds of someone working out inside the training room echoed out into the empty corridor. Inevitably drawn to the doorway, Heero went to peek inside, a sharp gasp escaping his throat when he found none other than Duo Maxwell ripping into a heavy punching bag with a pair of black boxing gloves.

Duo seemed too engaged in beating the shit out of the punching bag to realize he was being spied upon, dancing around it on nimble toes and even going so far as to verbally threaten it every time he laid a hit on the heavy bag. He was wearing only a pair of long mesh shorts, socks and sneakers, his long braid coiled and pinned up behind his skull to keep it out of the way. The yellow light glinted on his sweat-slicked flesh, highlighting each sparkling crystal like diamonds across his back. Heero found his feet too heavy to move as he stood there, completely entranced by Duo's strange, violent dance. His technique was very raw, more reminiscent of street brawling than something refined in the boxing ring

"And for you... Mother Superior! For thinking I'm a constant fuck-up!" Duo growled, jabbing the bag viciously. "And you, Helen - for ditching me in this hellhole." With each insult came a vengeful punch that sent the bag reeling back and forth on its chain. "And you, Trowa, for all your fucking lip-service!" He bashed the bag again with an uncouth snarl. "And Hilde, for the way you act like you're doing me a goddamn favour by inviting me into your stupid little cliques. And of course...." He slammed into the bag with a quick cross and another jab before reeling up for a final uppercut as the last affront came out. "Who could forget you, Mr. Heero fucking Yuy." The blow came, but not without a series of subsequent hits to go with the rest of Duo's commentary. "Fucking up my life even more than it already fucking is with all your goddamn mysterious swagger and attitude. Walking in here like you fucking run the joint and driving me mad with those goddamn blue --" He cut himself off, now explicitly aware that he had a most unwelcome audience. He stared at the doorway with empty eyes.

Heero met that blank stare, for some reason feeling a little unsteady, despite the fact that his feet were still firmly rooted to the teal tiling beneath his shoes. The things Duo had said had stung him a little, but Heero couldn't admit that hearing Duo say them had hurt. And yet, they still rang in his ears like the aftermath of an insufferably loud concert.

"I'm not sorry." That was Duo, breaking the gaping silence between them. Half his face was cast in the shadow of the punching bag, his eyes masked behind his unruly bangs. "I meant what I said."

Heero's lips fell open like he meant to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he found himself wondering why he cared. Or why it felt so bad.

"You're not better than me," Duo went on, grabbing the still-swaying bag to hold it still with one arm. "Just because I haven't seen and done as much as you doesn't mean I haven't been around the block a few times, Spaceboy."

"What are you trying to say?" Heero asked stiffly, finally able to choke out a few words. He didn't understand what he'd done to offend Duo, but it was in that moment he realized he would probably spend the rest of his time there staring at Duo's lunch table from afar.

Duo was in the process of pulling off his boxing gloves, flinging them down onto the floor mats in a sign of aggressive challenge. His hands were wrapped in bandages for extra support. "I'm saying that you better not expect me to ease up on you like everyone else, that's what," he snapped venomously, his eyes narrowing into snake-like slits. "I'm not gonna let you be so lucky."

At this, Heero couldn't help but laugh. "Lucky?" he gasped, finding a little hard to breathe. "Duo, I haven't been lucky a day in my life! Why should I think it would change now?" He closed his eyes and spread his arms wide like wings, the light in the training room filtering around him like a halo. "I'm standing on the edge."

"And I'll be the one to push you over," Duo announced candidly. He took a bold couple of steps in Heero's direction, his movements full of self-confidence.

"You'll fall too," Heero countered in an even tone, slowly opening his eyes to meet Duo's, which were still hard to make out in the odd light. "You shove too hard - throw your whole weight into it."

Duo was now standing so close to Heero, he could smell the sweat clinging to his flesh and whatever strong brand of deodorant he was wearing. The hair that framed his face clung to his red cheeks, and he reached up to press a bit of it against the side of his head, revealing one wild, cobalt eye. Before Heero had realized it, one of Duo's hands shot out and captured his chin between a pair of vice-like fingers as he brought his nose closer, staring as if he could see something more than his own reflection in Heero's eyes.

Heero tried to pull his jaw free, but found Duo had a startlingly firm grip. His lips strained into a hardened grimace as he glared right back at Duo. He didn't like the way Duo's lips were slowly curling up into that devilish smirk of his.

"I have plans for you, Mr. Yuy," Duo said, jerking Heero's chin to the side so he could examine his profile, swiping his thumb across Heero's frowning lips. "I'm gonna break you down and jam up your gears if it kills me - just like you're doing t'me."

Heero's expression flickered into a smug one. "It just might," he said, knowing full well it would set Duo aflame.

The reaction from Duo was just as Heero had predicted. Duo's eyebrows crinkled with rage over his nose as he shoved Heero away. "You're so fucking full of yourself!" Duo shouted, reeling one fist back, fully intent on smashing it into Heero's face.

A quick impulse on Heero's part saved him from a broken nose, but it still wasn't enough to avoid earning a black eye instead. As the flesh around his eye began to swell and bruise, Heero cracked his knuckles loudly, gritting his teeth and launching himself at Duo with every intent to wring his neck. He wasn't sure where the spark to let out his aggression on Duo stemmed from, but now that it had taken over his instincts, there wasn't much he could do to quell it.

After a few haphazard swings of his fist, Heero gave up trying to artfully outbox Duo and resorted to dirtier tactics. Digging his fingers into the hollows around Duo's collarbone, he grabbed the coil of braid behind Duo's skull with his other hand and gave it a fierce yank, jerking Duo to his knees. "You're not as tough as you think, Maxwell," Heero jeered scathingly, his eyes burning with contempt.

"Neither are you," Duo returned with just as much malice, reaching around Heero's legs to knock him off balance with a vicious strike to the back of his knees, proving he was just as capable of foul play. Heero came toppling down, practically landing on top of Duo, and the longhaired boxer was quick to pin Heero to the mats while he was vulnerable. "Not so hot now, huh?" Duo taunted as he swung a leg on either side of Heero's torso and sat down on his hips, holding him fast. Pressing his forearms across Heero's bucking chest, he leaned down, bringing his face close to Heero's again as he whispered, "Or are you?"

Heero's eyes were wild with anger. How dare Duo jerk him around like this, as if he was some kind of rag doll? He wasn't going to be anybody's plaything! He wanted to open his mouth and scream at the top of his lungs that Duo was the worst piece of shit on the planet, but his voice was trapped deep in his belly whenever he tried. His arms flailed at his sides, unable to really move due to the way Duo had his upper body pressed against the floor. His throat closed up and his tongue became dry as panic began to settle in.

Duo had a hold of Heero's chin again, his thumb rubbing harsh circles into his cheek. "Hold still, now - that's a good boy," he cooed, sounding somewhere between irreverent and suggestive. He rocked his hips a little, the pressure grinding Heero's hips uncomfortably against the mats. "You have a very beautiful face," he went on in that same evocative tone. "Like an angel."

Heero snapped his teeth at Duo, trying to nip his nose, as the longhaired boxer rocked his hips again and leaned in deeper. Duo recoiled quickly, but it didn't deter him as much as Heero would have hoped. "Mm, I like 'em a bit feisty," was all Duo said as he used the hand on Heero's chin to clamp his jaws together.

Fear was actually the foremost emotion Heero was feeling at that moment. Duo was acting very strangely, and the discrepancy scared the hell out of him. In the short time he'd known the longhaired teen, he'd come off as cocky, snide and, most noticeably, completely resentful of Heero's mere existence. But here, unsure exactly why, he couldn't help but get the impression that Duo's overtures had very little to do with intimidation as they had in the past.

Heero jerked beneath Duo again, finally managing to erratically swing one of his arms upward and cracking Duo across the forehead with his wayward wrist. Hissing in pain, Duo released Heero's upper body, both his hands shooting to grab the large bruise that was starting to form above one eyebrow. "That hurt, motherfucker!" Duo snarled, glaring down at Heero between two parted fingers.

Heero wasn't about to let his chance slip by, and he quickly bucked his hips, throwing Duo astray onto the mats. Scrambling, he reversed their positions, taking the opportunity to settle on top of Duo. He was fighting for his sanity, now: a brawl with Duo was safe, the physicality of it a good, brutal reminder of where he and Duo stood - or at least, where he was accustomed.

But Duo was still acting weirdly, not nearly as pissed off with this change as Heero had expected. Instead, he seemed to settle against the mats, that dangerous smirk still riding his lips as he said, "Oh ho, so this is how you like to play?" His ocean blue eyes sunk a fathom deeper, a dangerous gleam lighting their nadir. "It's hard to tell with you - just what exactly you want, that is."

Though he wasn't quite sure what Duo was trying to imply, he narrowed his eyes fiercely anyway, refusing to give away just how confused he was right then. "You don't make any sense," Heero growled darkly.

Duo let out a wry laugh; "Well, you don't make any sense to me, either," he said with that same malicious grin, "but I think that's what I like about you." He propped himself up his elbows, not really seeming to mind that he was pinned beneath Heero's weight. "So, tell me," he went on, "just how much truth is there to Heero Yuy? Or is it really just all that tough-guy act?"

"Why do you even care?" Heero spat, grabbing Duo's shoulders and slamming him back down onto the ground. "What happened to staying out of each other's way?" His eyes were wide with nervousness as he shook Duo relentlessly, like he meant to rattle that smirk right off his face. "I thought you understood at least that."

Duo opened his mouth like he meant to respond, but he never got the chance, because just then, a disciplinary shout of "Mr. Yuy! Maxwell! What on Earth is going on here?!" came from the doorway to the training room. Heero dropped Duo immediately as his head snapped in the direction of the voice to see a tall woman with twin coils of dark golden hair framing her pretty but stern face. She wore brown track pants and a white tank top, a pair of dog tags gleaming on a chain around her neck. Both offenders scrambled to their feet as she approached them, a hand on each hip as she assessed the situation with a firm eye.

Duo held up both his hands in defeat, saying in his own defense, "I just want to let you know, Coach Po, that for once, it's not entirely my fault."

"We'll see. There's a first time for everything, Maxwell," she said, though there wasn't any malice in her voice, despite commanding that air of authority about her. Turning to Heero, she took note of his black eye, as well as the round lump rising on Duo's forehead and then just shook her head. "I'm not even sure what to say to either of you," she admitted with a hopeless shake of her head.

Clasping his hands together, Duo took a few steps towards the blond woman, just short of begging her, "Please, please, please - for the love of everything holy, ma'am - don't tell Mother Superior or Noin or anybody like that." He dropped his head and lifted his knotted fingers higher; "I don't think I can handle another lecture about lack of direction and all that kinda thing."

Sally regarded Duo with a look of interest, and Heero watched quietly, finding Duo's display rather interesting to behold, and he momentarily forgot why he'd wanted to throttle Duo so badly. With all the mixed messages Duo received from the people around him, Heero decided it was no wonder Duo sent out so many of his own; the poor guy truly had no idea how to conduct himself amid all that confusion.

Coach Po didn't need to seem all that much persuading from Duo to relent. "Fine, fine," she said with a sigh of defeat. "Don't expect me to let it slide, though, but I'll see what I can do." She beckoned for them to follow her with a curl of her fingers as she started to walk away; "Come with me, boys."

She led them back into the hall, presumably to her office to deal with it. Heero and Duo followed behind her, walking side-by-side at glaring at their shuffling feet. They walked in relative silence until Duo hissed just loud enough for only Heero to hear: "This is all your goddamn fault."

"My fault?" Heero pressed an indignant hand against his breastbone. "If I remember correctly, you threw the first punch."

"Well, maybe if you hadn't come busting in on my training session...." Duo started, sending Heero another narrow-eyed stare, which spoke volumes more than his dangling sentence.

Heero was just short of being insulted. "I wasn't the one decrying everybody I know!" he protested vehemently, flinging his hands out to either side. "You're a piece of shit friend," he assessed, turning a dark glare of his own onto the longhaired boxer. "I don't know why anyone would want to be if they knew the way you talk about them when you think no one's listening." Heero hoped that if he thought along those lines enough, he might believe it himself, too.

"You don't know shit about what I think," Duo snapped angrily at Heero, causing Coach Po to look back over her shoulder with a warning glance. Duo wrinkled his nose at her back and then lowered his voice as he continued whispering harshly to Heero: "Not that it makes a difference. You think I'm a waste of space anyway. At least I'm not a jackass to their faces - like some people I can think of." The implication was more than clear, even without the pointed way Duo was looking at Heero.

"Don't preach," Heero answered flatly. "Pointing your finger isn't going to always redirect their attention."

Duo didn't seem to be phased at all by the comment. Instead, he retorted, "Oh, yeah, you're a saint...."

At least a dozen potential responses filled Heero's head, but he wasn't allowed to say any of them, because just then, Coach Po was ushering them into her office, which was just next to the girls' locker rooms. Morosely, Heero and Duo entered the cramped room and lingered awkwardly against the wall opposite her desk as they awaited judgment.

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Detentions at Saint Magdalena's were held in Thursday afternoons when classes were over. The week after Heero and Duo had been caught fighting, both boys found themselves confined to the chapel, though Mother Superior was never fully informed just as to why. Heero complained he couldn't say the prayers he was supposed to in order to complete the detention without a set of rosary beads to count on; to his chagrin, Mr. Kushrenada, the teacher administering the detention, lent him his.

They weren't allowed to sit on the same pew, but Heero wasn't sure he would have wanted to sit next to Duo while he was supposed to be praying - or at least giving the impression of it. He personally thought that praying to absolve mistakes was silly; if he had to make amends, he'd rather have spent his time doing something that would make a tangible difference. Besides, he was more than certain that Duo would have been more of a distraction than help in this situation. So, using the kneeler to cushion himself against the hard floor, Heero rested his forearms on the pew in front of his, the rosary beads dangling between his fingers as he took in his surroundings, all the while hoping an hour of aimless staring would equate with thirteen Hail Marys and a couple Our Fathers and recitations of the Glory Be.

Even Heero had to admit, however, that the chapel was a very atmospheric place. The ceilings were arched and painted green, monogrammed with a gold fleur di lis pattern. There was wood paneling around the walls and beautiful, rainbow-encrusted glass windows in the stone walls. Instead of an organ, there was a black piano by the altar, which was actually little more than a raised table covered by a white cloth. The soft sounds of a hymnal rose from that general area, where Mr. Kushrenada was overseeing the choir's after school rehearsal.

Meanwhile, a few rows back, Duo was on his fourth Hail Mary, rolling the corresponding red bead between his thumb and index finger as he mouthed the words, his eyes squinted tightly shut. When he reached the end of the prayer, however, his eyes burst open like over swelling dams, and he let out a loud gasp of air as he slouched back into the wooden pew. Almost immediately, his wide eyes were drawn ahead of him, to Heero's backside - particularly the place where Heero's slacks tightened over his ass when he bent over the pew in front to grab a prayer book for reference. Duo took a moment to deviate from his assigned penance.

"Dear God... I've never asked you for much," he started, bowing his head and pressing his clasped hands against his brow, "but please, please, please allow me to fuck Heero Yuy." He made the sign of the cross and kissed the back of his thumb; "Amen." He opened his eyes at let himself wallow in the sight of Heero's lower half again, a sated smile on his face while he thought of all the things he'd love to do to the Japanese exchange student if only he could just manage to get him into bed.

And it was making him embarrassingly horny.

Surreptitiously, he reached for a nearby Bible and unfolded it on his lap, staring down at the text like he'd been divinely inspired to go flipping through the Song of Solomon. 'Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth; for thy love is better than wine.' Duo frowned at the book, cursing it for being completely unhelpful in all its infinite wisdom. "Yeah, love is a verb when it comes to you, Heero Yuy," Duo murmured distractedly, all the while struggling to find a better position to sit in.

"Oh, hi, Duo!" came Quatre's voice, its unexpectedness just short of giving Duo heart palpitations. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to see you here."

Duo's hand clamped down on the Bible, pressing it more firmly against his pelvis as he smiled squeamishly at Quatre, hoping to high heaven that he didn't notice how oddly he was acting. "Go figure!" he let out breathlessly.

Fortunately, Quatre seemed oblivious to Duo's discomfort. "Wufei told me that Trowa would be here," he said, nervously jamming his hands into his back pockets. "Have you seen him?"

"Huh?" Duo fumbled stupidly with the question, despite its simplicity. "Oh, yeah," he finally remembered, drawing a vague finger in the direction of the choir. "Over there."

Quatre followed the line of Duo's finger, quickly picking Trowa out among the other students arranged around Mr. Kushrenada. Quatre's mouth molded itself into a little circle, before then, not being at all aware that Trowa could sing. But as he listened, he found he could pick out Trowa's rather pleasing alto amid the other choir members.

"So-o-o," Duo hummed as he tossed the Bible aside carelessly, leaning back to cross his arms and thighs as casually as he could. "What'cha need Tro-Tro for?" He combed some of his longer bangs behind one ear, glancing at Quatre with a dark smirk. "Something devious, I hope. Remember the bet?"

Flame took to Quatre's cheeks and he balled his fists deep inside his pockets. "Nothing like that!" he insisted, completely flustered. "I just wanted to see if he wanted to study with me, that's all."

"Study, huh?" Duo arched a curious eyebrow, the practiced sarcasm coming out on autopilot now. "Is that what they call it these days? I can never keep up with the slang."

Quatre, who'd become distracted by the choir again, redirected his attention to Duo with an embarrassed twitch. Duo's lips only spread wider at the reaction, and Quatre's eyebrows furrowed deeply as he lamented, "You're absolutely relentless, Duo Maxwell!"

"And damn proud of it," Duo scoffed, stretching and lacing his fingers behind his head, his rosary beads swinging with the arc of the motion with a tiny crackle of sound. "Well, I won't stop you," he went on casually. "You should do something about it - seize the moment, since skies may fall... any moment." He took a second to wink at Quatre knowingly.

Quatre's eyes darted between Duo and Trowa for a few seconds before he slid onto the pew with Duo, fisting his hands in his lap. "I'll wait," he said, staring down at the tops of his shoes. "He's in the middle of rehearsal."

"Excuses," said Duo, settling deeper into the pew, halfheartedly going through the motions of restarting his prayers. "You say it like Kushrenada runs a tight camp - which I promise you, he doesn't." Duo shrugged inconsequentially, nodding in the direction of the choir. "It's more of a show up and participate thing than a real established club. Tro's a regular, yeah, but it's not like he's bound and chained up there." He suddenly sat up, as if an epiphany had suddenly dawned upon him. "Oh, I know!" he exclaimed, giving Quatre a hearty push back towards the aisle. "You should totally go up and join them! They'd suck you right in - like a giant amoeba!"

Quatre's face scrunched, perplexed, as he jerkily turned his head in Duo's direction and let out a flummoxed, "What?"

Duo turned his nose into the air and made a show of clapping his hands back together into the prayerful position. "You heard me," he intoned, snubbing Quatre's confused stare.

Quatre's lips slid to the side, forcing one cheek up into a round puff as he thought about it, the soothing hymnal the chorus was singing wafting around his head like a hazy fog. Duo kept sending Quatre meaningful glances, nodding his head in the direction of the chorus like he was dropping a not-so-subtle hint. Quatre did his best to ignore the other boy, though; he knew what Duo was trying to imply, but whether or not he was right didn't make Quatre any more eager to go up there. Besides, the hymn they were singing was a liturgical commonality back at the L4 Cathedral School and it was one he actually rather enjoyed.

Without warning, at the music's crescendo, a lone voice broke out into a poignant solo, and it didn't take long for Quatre to realize that it was Trowa who was singing so passionately by himself. His voice rose above the others, hovering beneath the ceiling's stone arches like it was drifting to heaven itself. For a moment, Quatre could have sworn the angels etched into the stained glass windows were chanting with him. Even Heero had stopped with his halfhearted prayer to listen.

Trowa's voice was suddenly cut short, the harmonic sound suddenly replaced with the hollow thump of Duo banging his fist against his chest as he shouted, "Mea culpa, mea culpa - mea maxima culpa." His eyes widened in discomfiture when he realized most everyone in the chapel was staring at him with quirked eyebrows; Heero's lips were drawn into a tight line of intolerance.

Fortunately for Duo, he was spared any more scrutiny, because the sandy haired student sitting behind the piano then stole everyone's attention. He was arguing with Mr. Kushrenada, his voice a bit louder than necessary. "But this is the tempo the composer set for the piece," the pianist protested, holding the sheet music up to Mr. Kushrenada as validation. "If he can't keep up, then find someone else to sing it!"

Trowa, who was standing just behind Kushrenada, lifted a weak finger of protest. "I can try again if it's really that big of a problem," he said, hoping not to stir up too many waves.

Kushrenada sent a sharp glare in Trowa's direction, silencing him. "No, you'll sing it whatever way suits you best," he told Trowa firmly. His dark blue eyes darted back towards the pianist as he jabbed a non-nonsense finger into the instruments wood varnish. "I suggest you practice this piece a bit more, Walker; it's your job to keep with him, not the other way around." His demeanor became a bit gruff, his easygoing attitude ebbing away as he added with a threatening air, "Don't make me go hunt up another piano player. Attitude has no place here."

That seemed to only bother Walker more. "You can't fire a volunteer!"

Kushrenada took on an expression like he was just daring Walker to push his limits. Turning to face the rows of pews lining the main part of the chapel, he addressed the few students lingering there: "Hey, can anyone here give Walker a lesson in rhythm? You..." His keen eye noticed the way Quatre's hand twitched into the air like he meant to be noticed and then immediately retracted his decision. "You look like an eager boy. Do you know it?"

Quatre looked around, seeing no one to his right and Duo dozing to his left, and then realized that Kushrenada couldn't be addressing anyone but him. "Uhm, a little bit," he said modestly. "But I know the score only because I've been playing the piano since I was six."

"Interesting," Kushrenada mused. He stroked his chin thoughtfully and then beckoned Quatre to the piano with a sharp jerk of his head. "Come here, then."

Quatre dallied on the pew for a few seconds, not getting up until the supposedly sleeping Duo made a small scooting motion with his hand. Feeling extremely self-conscious, Quatre got up and approached Kushrenada, who, for all his gallantry, looked quite devilish right then. It was only the reassuring smile and throwaway shrug that Trowa offered him as he mounted the steps to the altar that kept his feet moving forward.

Kushrenada made another jerking motion with his head, gesturing for Walker to vacate the piano bench. "No pressure," he told Quatre as the blond exchange student sat down behind the ivory keys. "Just as an experiment, that's all." He loftily raised his hand and flicked it at Trowa; "Whenever you're ready."

Quatre felt his shoulders swell nervously as his eyes connected with Trowa's. But as soon as Trowa opened his mouth and started to sing his part, instinct overwhelmed his fingertips and they pressed down fervently upon the white keys. Music poured from the piano's core, and Quatre was almost unaware of surroundings as he let the passion consume him. He had to bite his lip in order to remind himself of Trowa's pace, slowing down a bit to accommodate him as Trowa tried to speed up for the opposite reason. As they tangoed with both tempo and tone, Kushrenada stood back and smirked, thinking he may have found himself a replacement pianist to match his premiere singer.

"Perfect, perfect," Kushrenada interrupted with another airy toss of his hand. He pointed to Quatre, saying, "You - you're hired."

Walker seethed beside the piano, boiling with jealousy that he'd been dumped for the new kid. "I've been playing for you all year," he shouted to Kushrenada, his extended finger quivering in Quatre's direction. "You can't just oust me because he knows how to vamp a few chords!"

"Can't I?" Kushrenada replied, casually raking his fingertips through his smooth, sunny brown hair. "You know, there's no shame in conceding you've been bested, Walker. Maybe you could learn a few things from...." He trailed off, looking at Quatre expectantly until the blonde filled in his name for the music teacher. "From Quatre," Kushrenada repeated for Walker, as if he hadn't heard the first time.

"You liked the way I played Chopin four months ago," Walker told Kushrenada bitterly. "Why's that different now?"

"It's not - I still do," answered Kushrenada with a plain shrug. "But it's not like you're the only one who can pound out Fantasy Impromptu on command." He turned to Quatre again, arching his eyebrows meaningfully at him; "Right?" he hinted.

With Kushrenada looking at him so expectantly and Walker looming menacingly beside him, Quatre felt very dwarfed, even as he cracked his knuckles and laid his fingers upon the keys again. Once more, it was only the encouraging twist of lip on Trowa's face that kept him from balking completely. A soothing breath filled Quatre's lungs as he closed his eyes, all the while reminding himself how often those notes had been ingrained into his fingertips, and then let the music flow once more.

Again, Kushrenada stood back and watched with a smug, impressed light in his regal eyes, his instincts about Quatre's natural ability only strengthened with each rise and fall of the complicated piece. It wasn't that he was trying to upset Walker purposefully, but he knew there were certain things in life that could only be truly learned after dealing with them in the harshest way possible.

Gritting his teeth, Walker was through feeling so belittled. With a confident stride, he moved over to the piano bench and slammed his hands down onto Quatre's, banging them into the keyboard with a pained shout from the strings and hammers inside the piano. "Anyone who's studied long enough can play like you," he hissed as he muscled his way onto the bench beside Quatre. "It's not like you have some kind of gift." He swept Quatre's hands off the keys and took over, immediately launching into a selection from the Magic Flute.

For his part, Quatre appreciated that Walker wasn't without skill, but it was very unrefined, though that fact was more easily masked behind Mozart's very orderly and meticulous score. Anyway, there were more passionate composers Quatre preferred. In the meantime, however, the blonde was content to sit with his hands folded in his lap, politely waiting for Walker to reach the end of his piece - that is, until Trowa lifted his hands and pretended to dance his fingers across an invisible keyboard.

Determination lighting his eye and realizing that this had grown into some sort of challenge, Quatre reasserted his presence by crushing all ten of his fingers into the ivories, abruptly ending Walker's performance. Immediately, he launched into Moonlight Sonata.

At this, Kushrenada let out a sporting whoop of laughter, clapping his hands. "Oh, you definitely have it," he said, a merry twinkle replacing the competitive gleam that had been shining in his eyes previously. "I like your style, Quatre Winner."

But Quatre hardly heard the teacher's praise, or the whispered chatter that had risen from the spectator choir. Instead, all he knew was the smile that his performance had left on Trowa's face and how it looked in the colour-stained light.

++++

That weekend found Duo, Hilde and Trowa in town to grab something a little more exciting than the cafeteria's typical food for lunch. There was a small teahouse called the Siamese Cafˇ that the three of them liked to frequent, and it wasn't long before they were sitting around a small, square table by one of the curtained windows near the door. Pale hues of colour twinged with a golden light played on the cafˇ's brick walls and across its uneven, wooden floorboards. Trowa toyed with one of the many chopsticks poking out of the jar sitting in the middle of their lacquered tabletop as he waited for the waiter to bring his chai, while Duo and Hilde kept swapping their icy mugs of bubble tea every other sip.

"So, Trowa," Duo said, snatching a pair of red chopsticks out of the jar when his plate of dumplings arrived, "just what the gosh-darn heck is going on with you and that pretty blond exchange student, huh?"

Trowa hid his reaction behind his steaming cup of tea and took a long gulp of it before answering. "None of your business," he said coolly, setting his cup down and reaching for the pot warming next to his placemat. His expression was less than easygoing, though. "Keep your dirty hooks out of him, Duo."

"Sure answers that question, doesn't it," Duo muttered conspiratorially to Hilde, who nodded sagely in agreement. Redirecting his attention to Trowa, he leaned an elbow on the table and poked his chopsticks in Trowa's direction, saying, "And just what did you mean by that last comment, buster? Well?" he pressed.

Trowa took another sip of tea before replying smoothly, "You know exactly what I mean." He set the cup down again, this time with a note of firm seriousness. "I see the way you plow through guys, Duo. I'm not going to let you string him along and then toss him into a side ditch after you've had your quick night of fun."

"What? Ew, no," Duo recoiled, clearly repulsed. "He's all yours, buddy. I have my sights on bigger and better things." He stabbed one of the dumplings with his chopsticks and worked them around in a circle until the juicy meat inside bled through the dough.

Trowa frowned across the table at his roommate, still not very comforted by that prospect, and Hilde eyed Duo with a note of worry. She had an inkling as to what Duo meant by that, but as far as she could see, it all ended messily. "You know," she commented quietly, "if bagging Heero Yuy is such a high aim for you, Mr. Maxwell, then do me the honour of explaining why you have yet to really do anything about it, hmm?"

Duo's face contorted with panicked rage. "You shut the fuck up!" he hissed, his eyes wide.

Trowa leaned on the table and stared up towards the ceiling where a ceiling fan was twisting lazily. "I still think the way you look at lovers as simply sexual conquests is a little distasteful, Duo."

Duo leaned back on his stool, banging his forearm defiantly along the edge of the table. "Oh, this is new. Suddenly got a problem with it, huh? Not like it's got a thing to do with you, anyway," he said snidely. "And whether he knows it or not, he's gonna be mine. I'll take him to bed and pound him into the mattress so many times, he won't want to get up." The explicitness of his intentions seemed to bring that dark gleam back to his eyes. "Besides," he went on, vigorously stirring his fat straw around in his bubble tea and disturbing the balls of tapioca clinging to the bottom, "he's just gonna go back to the moon in a few months anyway and I'll never see him again." He pressed his thumb against the straw's mouth and wedged the fingers of his hand through the handle of the mug. "It's a timed mission, let's say. A new challenge."

The heavy bells hanging from the restaurant's front door jangled loudly, and Hilde glanced over to see who had come in. "Well, here's you're chance to get lucky, dickwad," she whispered harshly, jutting her chin in the direction of the door, where none other than Heero and Quatre were tentatively stepping inside. A malicious smirk adorned Hilde's mouth as she stood up and waved to them; "Hey, come sit with us!"

Duo glared, panic filling his blue eyes. "Hilde, seriously," he growled, his eyes tracking the pair of exchange students as they neared, "fuck you."

Heero felt his heart plummet past his stomach when he realized that Duo was sitting at the table, but it was already too late for him to back away. He despaired every time he saw Duo, constantly having to fight this overwhelming urge to succumb to that big smile and boisterous laugh. Knowing he was more or less trapped now, he tried to remind himself of how eagerly Duo had wanted to hit him and fooled himself into thinking it was the long and short of their relationship. But even Duo's laugh was less hollow than that lie.

"Hey, fancy seeing you here," Hilde greeted the two newcomers cheerfully as they sat down with them. Heero took the fourth stool and Quatre pilfered one from another table nearby, positioning it between Heero and Trowa.

"Trowa kept telling me about this place," Quatre said by means of explanation, shooting the taller teen a furtive glance. "We had nothing to do, so I asked Heero if he wanted to check it out - and here we are!"

The smile lighting Quatre's face was bright and genuine, Heero couldn't help but note. Stealing a glance in the other direction, he found Duo's lips spread just as wide, but there was something missing. Heero thought that the shadows around Duo's eyes were perhaps just a shade to dark and the lines around his smile a bit too etched - as if he'd been holding the same, tired expression for far too long. He supposed he couldn't hate Duo for that false sense of security a fa¨ade like that might offer; he'd be a hypocrite, otherwise.

Duo shot Hilde a smug glare before twisting himself in Heero's direction and perched his chin onto the heel of his hand. "So, breaking out of your shell, huh?" he said smoothly, turning on the charm just for Heero's benefit.

Heero, however, was more concerned with the disgusted face Hilde was shooting Trowa, to which the tall rower was shaking his head wordlessly. Thinking on it, he thought it was rather odd how Hilde's stool was actually positioned a bit closer to Trowa's end of the table, despite the half empty mugs of bubble tea between the shorthaired girl and Duo. His attention was drawn by the thick, yellow straw in Duo's mug as it shifted listlessly from one side of the rim to the other, angling itself towards the curled hand Duo's head was propped on. The longer bangs on the side of Duo's face curved with the contour of his cheek against his hand, his long, slim chopsticks tracing a crimson streak through his fingers and across his temple. His lips were still moving, but the shapes they made were far more entrancing than whatever words were passing through them.

"I don't think you're a jackass," Heero said, Duo's prattling finally tuning into Heero's ears.

Duo's mouth stilled, frozen into a startled round, as if he hadn't expected Heero to interject at all. "You... don't?" he asked, clearly befuddled. The hand fell away from his cheek and he straightened, quirking an eyebrow at Heero. "Yo, I punched you." His lips were twisted into an indescribable shape.

"I punched you back," Heero answered with a shrug. He didn't really care, anyway. He'd had moments clouded with plenty of hot air himself - another thing he'd be hypocritical for condemning.

"So you don't... hate me... for that?" Duo wondered, still not quite sure he believed his ears. Better than anyone, Duo knew just how aggressive he could be, and though no one had ever heard him ranting to the punching bag before, he was pretty sure some of his more violent reactions had choked quite a few friendships in the past.

Heero shook his head, his long, shaggy bangs teasing the end of his nose as he did. "No," he said, folding his arms on the tabletop and sinking down into them. "I'm not sure I hate anyone, really." His voice was muffled against his sleeve as he peered over his forearm, his gaze pointedly fixed upon the space of brick wall between Duo and Hilde.

Quatre perked up eagerly. "Does that mean you don't hate me, either, Heero?" he wanted to know.

Heero's steely blue gaze slid over towards Quatre, regarding him with a touch of confusion. "Who said I disliked you?" he demanded to know.

The other four all stared at him placidly, a little unsure of how to broach the topic. Hilde twiddled her bangs and Duo stabbed another one of his dumplings, while Quatre slid a hand through his smooth, golden hair. It was Trowa, ever the tactful one, who finally said, "Well, you don't exactly give the most open first impression, that's all."

Heero seemed astonished by that piece of information, though the initial shock of Trowa's blunt comment quickly seemed to ebb away. "I don't...? It's hard; it's... complicated." His speech deteriorated into a rather morose grouse.

With her female intuitiveness, Hilde quickly picked up on the graveness of Heero's tone. "Is it something you can talk about?" she asked softly, not wanting to seem too invasive. "At least something you could talk about with your friends at Saint Anthony's?"

There was a lot of hesitance in Heero's voice as he answered, but he was pleased that he was able to at least get it out, which was a lot more than he could have ever really said before. "I didn't have that many friends there," he admitted slowly. "And I was always told that studying and taking care of myself was far more important than caring what other people thought." He turned his face downwards into the cradle of his arms, pressing his forearms into his eye sockets. "Maybe I just got used to it. Hard to tell with things you're not used to, I guess."

The warm patch that settled on his back startled Heero, realizing it to be Quatre's hand as he patted him comfortingly. Feeling reassured was certainly a new feeling, but Heero thought that he rather liked it. Upon lifting his head up, the first thing he saw was the tentative smile turning Duo's lips.

"It's okay," soothed Quatre, who seemed to understand just what Heero felt. "My dad's like that too. He doesn't know how to prepare his children for the world, and I think he just wishes we'd take his word that with all its troubles, it's not worth exploring. You should have heard the fight we had when I suggested coming here at all." Quatre withdrew his hand and wove it through his short hair, hoping that it comforted Heero at least a little to know that he wasn't alone.

"At least it's because he cares," Heero said, sounding a little bitter. "He's probably just afraid that you and your siblings will grow from being something he loves to something he loses." That unsettling veil of discomfort drifted down over Heero's eyes, and he abruptly stood, stepping away from the table as his flight instincts took over. "...I'm lost," he whispered, his voice rasping painfully in the back of his throat.

But just as he turned his back on the table, he suddenly felt a tightness around his wrist, and he looked down the length of his arm to see Duo's hand clamped firmly around it. The suddenness of the movement wasn't what clenched at his heart the most, but rather the downcast way Duo was staring at their entwined fingers. "Stay with me," he said so softly, it was almost inaudible above the low din of the teahouse.

Following without a word, Heero slowly reassumed his seat, still taken by how long Duo was willing to touch him. He wasn't very used to physical contact, and over the years, he'd just assumed it was something personal. He continued to brood over it even after Duo eventually withdrew his hand and the conversation stemmed off in other directions - something about plans for later that night. Vaguely, he registered someone extending an invitation to him and Quatre.

"Shouldn't you be inviting your girlfriend?" Heero wondered aloud when Duo pressed him again to come along to some party or another that was taking place. He didn't miss the way Duo and Hilde exchanged an almost microscopic glance that was clearly weighted with meaning.

"There's a theology paper I have to work on for our class," Hilde said quickly, and Duo nodded as if it would make her excuse that much more valid. "I can't afford to waste the time."

"Oh...." Heero was a bit skeptical to accept the reasoning, but it wasn't his place to say anything, really.

He felt a jolt when Duo grabbed his hand again and said earnestly, "So you'll come with me?" His grin was one of triumph when Heero nodded at last. He immediately launched into an expose about what a good time he'd show Heero, and Heero was actually rather content to listen as the words fell so fast and effortlessly from Duo's lips. It was a lot different sitting at the same table as him and watching that mouth move than lingering on the fringes and spying from afar.

They had a pleasant meal that lasted for another hour or so, and then they parted ways, those going to the party planning to meet up there later. Later, when Heero sat down at the table in his dorm room, electing to try and get some work done before he left so he wouldn't end up like Hilde, he found he didn't have anything due for a week.

++++

TBC!

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