Assumptions
By: Kitty E.
Heero's lap top beeped, indicating it was time to take in some form of
nutrition, though he was doubtful as to what he'd find in the bare safehouse
kitchen. He wasn't finished with his mission report, and contemplated working
through dinner but decided he wasn't really in the mood for it. He blinked...
that was new. He'd never not been willing to work despite personal needs
before. He knew this *had* to be a bad sign, but the desire to get up and
acually do *something* other than type was still there. Leaving it on idle,
he stood and stretched, then made his way down the hall.
He nearly tripped over something heavy. Looking down he saw Duo passed
out on the floor. This was nothing new, only this time there were no beer
bottles, or pints of empty rocky road around him, just Duo, with two spurts
of blood trickling from his nose. Heero frowned, //An intruder? Masaka...//
He had to the whole place rigged. He heard a soft grunt, and bent down to
check Duo's vitals. He was fine, just... overloaded. What's more... he wasn't
the source of the groaning.
Heero looked to the door, it was Trowa and Quatre's room. //They're
being... what did Quatre call it? ...intimate.// Why this had overloaded
Duo's mental circuitry was beyond him. He talked about the most shameful
things as though it was a story about his old, sick, grandmother. He leaned
closer to the door.
"It's *too* tight, Trowa."
Heero's cheeks felt hot, and he didn't know why. He hoped it wasn't
fever. He should have considered his health, eaten something, taken an
aspirin, finished his work, and gone to bed early, but he could help but lean
in further.
"I just don't think it's gonna work, babe," Quatre huffed.
"It *has* to," Trowa's replied with another soft grunt.
"Try taking a deep breath." A sound of inhalation, a grunt this time from
Quatre. "No good. Trowa, let's just try something else."
"It *will* work, what are you implying?" Trowa spat back defensively.
"Nothing!" Quatre said, quickly, cutting off the chance for an arguement.
"Look, all you have to do is get a firm grip and.."
Exasperation was clear for once in Trowa's voice as he replied, "If my
grip was any more 'firm' it would be uncomfortable."
Quatre sighed, "Trowa, just give it up. Why do you insist on this?"
"Because I know you like it," Trowa's voice was almost smug. Abruptly it
became pleading, "One more try, please?"
"All right," a moment passed. "Yes!" The word sounded like it was spoken
through untainted elation. "There! Ah, it's done."
"Wonderful, koi," Trowa all but purred. "Thank you."
"It's such a struggle," Quatre whined.
"But it's worth it, isn't it?" there was a soft rustle of fabric.
"Yeah. But seriously Trowa, even *Heero's* isn't that tight."
Two lines of blood fell from Heero's nose, one right after the other. He
barely registered this as he collapsed next to Duo. Definitely knocked out
for the night. Wufei emerged from his room when he heard the soft thud
Heero's body made on impact. He smirked at the two bodies on the floor with
an arrogance wrought only from experience. //Trowa's jeans were too tight
again.//
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