Title: Game
Author: Natea
Pairing: Heero/Duo
Warnings: just language, really
Disclaimer: GW belongs to Bandai and Sotsu Agency; this story was written for personal entertainment

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I knew I'd find him there even before I walked in the door. The guy's got a set of shoulders on him like King Kong, and a pair of cajones to match, but when you're carrying the weight of the world on your back something's gotta slip sometime and when it does, you go to Jay's.

Place stinks like a brewery; there's always a good half inch of shit on the floor and lighting so poor you'd think you were blind. It's what it caters for though and it does a fuckin' good job; been here myself a few times, downed some brewskis with the best of 'em. Didn't do nothing to kill it though, just made it sleep for a while.

And he's there, sitting in the corner, back to the wall like a rat, ready to attack anyone who comes too close. I think it's that more than anything else that tells me he's not okay, in the past, no matter how tough the situation has become, Heero has never looked caged. Right now he's got a beer in his hand and a look in his eyes that says leave me alone as clearly as if he had a neon sign over his head.

When the fuck have I ever listened to him though? I didn't when we were kids and I sure as hell ain't starting now. I'd have crawled up my ass and died long ago if I did that.

He has blood over his eyebrow, probably doesn't even know it's there. He'd have washed it off if he did, scrubbed his face until it was pink and raw, carbolic soap too, none of that fancy shit that stinks up the place. He's got this anal sense of self image, always has to look good, presentable, professional...fuckable. Sex on legs if ever I saw it.

The guy is fucking gorgeous.

When we were kids he was pretty in a sort of a weird, intense way that scared off all the guys and made the girls jealous. Who'd want to go out with a guy who's prettier than you, the girls'd say, you'd have to be crazy.

Hell, maybe I am crazy, I admit it. I had a crush on him back then. Who the fuck wouldn't though? And he's only got better with time, aged like a good wine. Which is ironic because I hate the stuff, doesn't hit hard enough and it stains your teeth in the process.

I remember thinking he was a pansy, just another wimpy little wallflower of a boy. Probably got rich parents who could pay the school to keep his indiscretions quiet and use that rod to spoil the child and push him up that ladder to the good universities while greasing the rungs to keep the shit like me from sticking.

He wasn't though. He was a stubborn little shit and he could fight like a devil. He worked hard for what he wanted and he wasn't scared of taking chances when he needed to. He got up there alone, took the crap, like I did, in his stride. We had to, no one to fall back on when times got tough.

We stuck together, two little wards of state flocking with the big birds. we went to college together, roomed together, hell, we even became Preventers together and I love it. I love the excitement, the thrill of the chase, of holding that gun at the lowest of the low and thinking 'I was like you, I was like you and I got out'.

Maybe Heero pulled me out, but fuck it, I helped him too. We supported each other through the bad times, and there were a lot of bad times. The world ain't got time for you unless you got money or looks, preferably both.

He knew I was coming. The beer is there, ready for me, and I grab the bottle, popping the lid off on the side of the table before taking a good long gulp, looking at him out of the corner of my eye the whole time.

Things are changing. Jay's might be dark as sin but I don't need the light to show me that he's hurting. With a guy like Heero you don't comfort, shit he'd rip your fucking heart out and deep fry it before he'd take that from you. It works out well for us, he doesn't accept it and I sure as hell don't go giving it away.

"Go bad?"

"Yeah."

He throws back his head and takes a drink like he's trying to drown himself. He probably is, that's what Jay's is here for after all. Looks like a bad one this time, Heero doesn't often take to the bottle, last time it was for a kid... he still hasn't told me what happened.

He's had a few already, there's a flush on his cheeks and the sharpness in his eyes is gone. He's canned, resting his head against the tattered backrest and looking at me. I think he's talking, his lips are moving, but oh god. There's a light above us and it's casting the most gorgeous shadow under his chin and along his throat.

The blood on his temple is black and crusted now and without thinking about it I reach over and scratch at it lightly with my fingernail.

He's gone still, looking at me, fucking blue, blue eyes. He has no idea how much...

My hand is still touching his temple, a lock of hair from his bangs brushing against my finger with every breath. It's soft, like his eyes, and I slide my hand into it and fist it tightly, dragging him towards me and shoving my tongue down his throat.

He makes a noise, small and muffled against my lips, and it goes right to my cock. I can't help him... anymore than he can help me; shit happens and we stand together in the playground, us against them; it's been that way and it will be that way for as long as we're in this game, but I can take the pain away for a little while. I can make it stop hurting.

He might kill me for it, but it would be a fucking good way to go.

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