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*** A/N: My goodness! A 3x2? Well, I suppose stranger things have happened...
Maybe I could have done more with this fic. But I don't know. I didn't want to get into any sort of 'mission' that would bog down the current plot. I probably could have drawn it out a bit more. I also think a lot of this was way too subtle. Read between a line or two, and you'll get it. I hope.
And do forgive my dabblings in Japanese. If I could understand the language, I'd most definitely be writing everything of mine in it, instead of this clumsy English...
Mm. Lemony goodness and Yaoi. Don't flame me. You'll only make Shinigami angry. ***

-----

It had been nearly three hours since Trowa's departure that a shivering Duo Maxwell ultimately decided to root through the other boy's rucksack. In more ideal circumstances, the violet-eyed American would have found such an activity a guilty pleasure, digging through the other pilot's belongings in hopes of finding something -- anything -- that would reveal more about the enigmatic boy. Any other time, he would have risked his neck (and, indeed, Duo certainly wouldn't put it past Trowa to swiftly slit his throat upon discovery) to find a picture, a lock of hair, forged ID papers. Anything to make the boy seem, in his eyes, more ... well, human.

But now, Duo was merely cold -- fucking freezing -- the flimsy priest's top giving him little protection against the chill that rattled right through the warehouse windows, across the frigid steel expanse of girders and cement. Barely able to move his fingers, Duo pulled out two black turtlenecks from the rucksack of essentials and yanked them both over his head. Perhaps Trowa would kill him for it, but at least he'd die warm. Sort-of warm, anyway.

He didn't dare light a fire for fear of someone within the munitions base, located within spitting distance of the abandoned warehouse, spotting the flicker. Then, their cover would be easily blown -- even now, Trowa was risking his life, Duo's life, in order to run to town for supplies. Sure, they had their essentials -- but who'd have thought it would have been so fucking cold? Duo huddled within the extra shirts that smelled of Trowa -- even the boy's scent was odd, though not necessarily unpleasant -- and he crossed his fingers in hopes of his partner returning soon.

A fourth, shivering hour passed before the pilot eventually returned, shrouded within a thin peasant's cloak dusted with snow, two bundled parcels held beneath both arms. Even though he shook so hard he looked as if he'd fly to pieces at any second, Trowa dutifully crossed the expanse of the warehouse to where Duo huddled and slid to his knees before the American. With painfully white fingers, Trowa untied the twine that surrounded the bundles -- military grey woolen blankets, neatly rolled. Duo wondered when the other boy might have had the time to pack the supplies so meticulously. But with Trowa, sometimes it was best not to ask.

"Hey," Duo whispered, his breath floating before him in a white mist. "How is it out there?"

Trowa's green, emotionless eyes looked Duo up and down, recognizing the stolen shirts from his private belongings. Yet he said nothing about the borrowed items, instead responding, "Cold."

Duo unrolled the single blanket -- Only one? Damn you, Trowa! -- and placed the items within into a neat pile to the side. The blanket was his, but the supplies were communal -- hard cheese, dry crackers, matches for the tiny portable stove only, coffee, extra socks....

Socks! A tiny whimper of joy escaped Duo's throat as he unrolled the thick pair of socks and pulled them over his hands.

"I take it you approve," Trowa stated.

"You got me socks," crooned Duo, sticking his frigid, covered hands beneath his armpits to warm them. "Trowa, did you ever know that you're my hero?" He beamed a sweet grin towards his companion.

"Mmh." Duo could have sworn he saw a flicker of a smile cross Trowa's face -- though, more than likely, he was merely imagining things.

Draping the blanket across his shoulders, Duo beamed his brightest smile at the other boy, who had curled up within his own covers. "So, what did you see in town? What's it like?"

"It's a town," Trowa replied, shrugging. "Just like any other."

"Aw, come on, Trowa, entertain me here. What sorts of buildings did you see? What were the stores like? Did you see anyone?" the American chattered, hoping for something to take his mind off the fucking cold.

But a conversation was not something that came easily from Trowa. In a flat tone, the boy replied, "There were buildings you'd find in any town. A corner store, a post office, a clock tower. The stores were easy to break into. And, no, I didn't see anyone."

"Oh." Duo should have seen it coming. Of all the people to be stuck with for weeks on end, it had to be The Silencer he was paired with. More like The Silent, Duo thought grumpily. How am I going to put up with so much quiet?

He opened his mouth to speak again, but Trowa interjected quietly, "It's late."

Duo curled his chin beneath the grey blanket, the wool prickling at his skin, and grunted. "I guess we should get some sleep then, ne? Long morning ahead of us tomorrow."

"Hai." Drawing his rucksack -- minus two pilfered turtlenecks -- close to him, Trowa slid to the cement floor and ducked his head beneath the blanket, only the tips of his long, brown hair sticking out.

Duo himself slid to the ground, feeling as if he were laying directly upon a thick block of ice, and shook through the many layers of clothing. "Trowa, how long do you think we'll be working here?"

"As long as it takes," the other boy replied through the muffle of blanket.

"Gods above, this is lame!" the American muttered. "Freezing our asses off in the middle of the damn tundra when we could be in space fighting armies of darkness!"

"We're not in the tundra," Trowa corrected. "It's Alberta. And we're needed more here than we are in space"

Duo leaned upon his elbow, staring at the shrouded figure lying before him. He grinned, even if the other boy couldn't see it. "Don't tell me you wouldn't rather be out among the stars in the heat of battle, Trowa."

The other boy was silent for a moment, and at first Duo thought Trowa might have fallen asleep -- or was deliberately ignoring him. "We must sleep," he answered finally.

"Aw, c'mon, Trowa," Duo begged. "Wouldn't you rather? Admit it!"

Trowa's chest rose once beneath the blanket, and he answered, "No, I would rather not."

"Huh?" Having seen Trowa's expertise in piloting his Gundam HeavyArms, the precision and brutality with which he dispatched his enemies, Duo was genuinely surprised at the boy's answer. "But why --"

"Sleep, Duo."

"But Trowa --"

"Sleep."

Muttering to himself, Duo lay back down on his side, pulling the woolen blanket securely around his form, and closed his eyes. When he tired of hearing his own grumbling voice, he listened to the wind shake the windows of the warehouse, and he listened to the thin, even breathing of the strange, inhuman pilot lying several feet away.

-----

It was his own shivering that pulled Duo from a restless, uncomfortable slumber. His back ached from remaining curled in a fetal position all night -- though it was the only way he could find any source of warmth. Even with his face beneath the blanket, allowing his breath to warm the air trapped within, he couldn't seem to sustain any heat for more than a few fleeting seconds. The icy cement floor under his body didn't help matters either -- it only seemed to amplify the chill of the air tenfold.

Whimpering beneath his breath, the American pilot tossed in an effort to find a new position, yet still retain that precious warmth. If his blanket wrapped any tighter around his near-convulsing body, he'd likely strangle, he thought. Through the darkness, he strained to bring Trowa's still form into focus -- the other pilot looked as if he hadn't budged an inch from when he first slipped to the ground to sleep. That baka had a cloak keep him warm beneath the woolen blanket, Duo thought to himself, conveniently forgetting that earlier in the evening he'd pilfered Trowa's own shirts to keep warm. When he settled, struggling vainly to bring some warmth back to his new position, he listened for Trowa's breathing again -- but heard nothing.

"T-Trowa?" he whispered through the darkness, inwardly cursing at the tremble upon his lips.

"Mmh?"

Duo let out a shivering laugh and mumbled, "You were looking like a corpse there for a second or two. Just wanted to see if you were still alive."

"I am." It sounded as if Trowa had been awake for hours, not the least bit sleepy. But then, no matter what time of the day or night it was, he always sounded exactly the same.

"I th-think my eyeballs have frozen into my skull," Duo said shakily, trying to keep that same degree of amusement in his voice. He felt far from amused, however...

"Duo."

"Yeah?"

"Come here." Through the suffocating blackness of the warehouse, Duo saw Trowa lift his blanket and beckon him over.

The American pilot closed the short distance to the other pilot, an onrush of cold air slicing through the warmth of his blanket. Knowing what Trowa had in mind, Duo immediately curled his body against the other pilot. "You're a lifesaver, you know that?" Even if it had to be with Trowa, of all people, Duo couldn't resist the opportunity for human contact.

Wordlessly, Trowa gripped Duo's shoulders and gently restrained him.

"What are you doing? Don't be a tease, ne?"

"Take off your shirts."

Duo wrapped his arms around himself protectively. "Nani? Nuh-uh, Trowa. No way, no how."

Trowa simply nodded, his long bangs bobbing visibly, even through the dark of night.

"You can't be serious!"

"I am."

"Baka," Duo muttered through clenched teeth and reluctantly slithered out of the layers of clothing. Trowa did the same, removing his own two shirts, and he carefully placed them flat upon the cement warehouse floor while Duo shook violently beneath the blanket. The wool itched like mad.

Trowa leaned back against the neat pile of shirts and nodded, extending his arms to the other boy. "Beneath the cloak," he said. "Unless you want to break out in a rash by morning."

"A rash is nothing compared to hypothermia. Which is what you intend to give me, don't you?" Duo grumbled. Somehow, in a tangle of blankets and arms, he managed to snuggle his body against Trowa's, climbing beneath the cloak and wrapping the two woolen blankets around both their bodies.

"You won't get hypothermia," stated Trowa, curling his arms around Duo's bare back and pulling the boy close to him. "Better?"

Duo leaned his head against the hollow of Trowa's shoulder, surprised at the sheer warmth of the other pilot's skin -- somehow, he'd always expected Trowa to be utterly frigid, like a snake. Duo was shocked to find that the boy was warmer than he was, that ice water truly didn't course through his veins. "Yeah," he murmured reluctantly. "Snug as a bug in a Trowa-sized rug."

"Good."

Eventually, Duo's shivering subsided, particularly when Trowa's strong chest began to rise and fall in the steady rhythm of sleep, his breath warm against Duo's ear. At some point in the night, Duo slipped into a comfortable -- if dreamless -- daze, taking in that strange scent of his companion that he was starting to grow accustomed to.

-----

The next day wasn't quite as bad as the previous night, likely due to the thin streams of sunlight that poured through the warehouse windows. With his head buried in the surveillance headphones, Duo could at least lie in the path of one of these beams, his black outfit absorbing the light, and stretch out like a lazy cat. Still, he never did feel as comfortable as he had in Trowa's arms, their bare bodies radiating such heat...

Yet, though it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to do at the time in order to keep from freezing, a twinge of concern had wormed its way into Duo's thoughts. What had compelled the other boy to draw him so close? Concern? Survival?

...Pity? he thought with sudden alarm.

Duo could deal with the first two, but he would never, ever tolerate pity.

As Trowa wedged his body between two girders and stared through binoculars at the munitions compound, Duo reluctantly left his prized sunbeam and stood a good twenty feet below his companion, looking up.

"Hey, Trowa?"

"Hmm?" the other boy murmured, his eyes never leaving the binoculars.

"I was just, yanno, wondering something."

"Go ahead."

"What the hell happened last night?"

Duo saw Trowa's brow wrinkle faintly. "You were cold. Body heat is one of the best ways to keep alive in sub-zero temperatures."

The American pilot took a few ponderous steps back to his own surveillance post before whirling around on the balls of his feet and shooting a glare up at the boy in the girders. "You weren't pitying me or anything, were you, doukeshi?"

Trowa lowered the binoculars and gazed down at Duo, his eyes as infuriatingly impassive as ever. "I was cold too."

"But you weren't pitying me?" Duo demanded, his hands resting upon his hips.

"No."

"Good," Duo stated, his lips spreading in a satisfied grin. "Shinigami would not have been pleased. Insert much wailing and gnashing of teeth here."

Duo returned to the open laptop and slid the headphones over his ears. Several minutes later, his sunbeam disappeared behind a mass of rolling clouds, and he shivered with dismay.

"We're gonna have to do it again tonight, aren't we, Trowa?"

"Hai."

-----

A week later, the storm hit, bringing with it bone-chilling temperatures and drifts of snow taller than both the pilots. Worse, the torrential winds had knocked loose some of the windows, sending them crashing to the ground to shatter into a million pieces.

Duo shook convulsively beneath the single woolen blanket, waiting impatiently for Trowa to sweep the dusty glass fragments from their sleeping area. He couldn't figure out how the boy managed to keep going, despite the chronically frigid temperatures, despite the wind groaning like a banshee against the steel walls of the warehouse.

Didn't Trowa ever get scared? Would he even admit it if he were? Duo could barely admit his fear to himself, his mind reasoning that he hid his face within the woolen blanket so his breath could keep him warm. But it certainly wasn't because he was frightened. It certainly wasn't the wind or the cold that made him afraid, or reminded him of one frigid night years ago when a massacre took place...

"I'm having deja vu all over again," Duo muttered to himself.

"I cleared away the glass as best as I could," Trowa whispered finally, settling back against the thin pile of shirts that had served as their bed each night.

Moving into the familiar position against Trowa's bare chest, Duo was startled at the low temperature of his companion's skin. He'd gotten used to the heat that seemed to radiate like a miniature furnace from within Trowa, had gotten used to the comforting feel of the other boy's breath against his ear, his fingers occasionally toying with the end of Duo's braid. Hell, he'd even gotten used to Trowa's utter silence, had even begun to relish it... speaking less, himself, in order to enjoy it...

"Trowa, you're absolutely freezing," Duo whispered.

"I'm sorry." Trowa's breath streamed from shivering lips, his chest hitching as he fought to keep from shaking.

Duo pulled the blankets closer around his companion, draped his arms across the taller boy's chest. "We can light a fire."

"No," Trowa muttered stubbornly.

"No one will notice! And even if they do, I'm sure the great team of Shinigami and The Silencer could take 'em. Even if OZ sends in its entire fucking army."

"Th-that's not realistic," murmured the other pilot, teeth chattering. "Even if it were, the answer is no. We're not jeopardizing the mission."

"There'll be no mission if we freeze to death, Trowa!" Duo insisted.

Trowa gripped Duo's shoulders tightly, shaking him in a rare display of ... anger? Duo certainly couldn't tell... "We're not going to freeze to death!" he hissed through clenched teeth.

Duo was about to retort in his own blaze of anger -- definitive anger -- when the wind tore another window from its hinges and send it screaming to the cement floor. As the deafening crash resounded throughout the warehouse's expanse, the American pilot cried aloud, his heart a jackhammer within his chest. The wind had howled like this the day of the Maxwell Church Massacre ... the day all he'd known had been destroyed in a hail of bullets and treachery ...

For the second time in his life, Shinigami was afraid. He couldn't seem to stop shaking, and he knew it wasn't from the cold.

"Ssh. Ssh..." Trowa whispered in his ear, strong arms encircling the American boy's chest.

Duo buried his face deeper into his companion's shoulder, the loose strands of the pilot's hair tickling his cheek. The movement seemed to stir something within the silent HeavyArms pilot, and he shifted his legs to twine them tightly around Duo's. The American boy moaned and thrust his fingers into Trowa's long bangs, drawing through the tangles, yet he never raised his head until he felt Trowa nudge his shoulders.

The frightened American pilot stared down into endless depths of green, glittering through the darkness. His hips pressed achingly against firm arousal. Duo wanted to say something smart, to make some sort of joke -- but instead, he found himself enveloped fully into Trowa's delicious silence. And, even more importantly, he wanted to be there.

With an almost desperate gasp, Trowa pulled Duo's face down to his, lips roughly parting the American's own. Duo allowed his companion's tongue to snake inside his mouth, and his hands slid effortlessly around Trowa's waist. Though surprised at Trowa's sudden fervor, Duo responded by digging his fingers into the boy's back, his fear replaced by something much more urgent, yet also so human...

Duo was the first to break the kiss, nipping his teeth around Trowa's lower lip. As Trowa nestled his face within the American's shoulder, suckling gently and sending shivers of pleasure down his spine, Duo could feel the very emotion that Trowa sought so hard to repress. Within the mysterious pilot was so much love, unrealized, save for the gentleness of his nimble caress and the push of his lips.

As Trowa circled his tongue around a hard nipple, Duo slipped his fingers beneath Trowa's pants, gently fondling the boy's arousal. Soon, both bodies were slipped from their pants, allowing bare hips to grind together in a rhythmic rocking, without hindrance. And as Duo rolled over onto his stomach, feeling Trowa's sweaty chest against his back, he couldn't help but cry aloud when Trowa entered him. Indeed, Trowa himself whimpered empathetically, their voices joining together in a howl of conjoined pain and pleasure. Yet when both boys eventually reached the peak of passion, both fell strangely silent, only the sounds of their gasps echoing breathily across the cavernous warehouse.

Trowa collapsed heavily against Duo's back, hiding his face against the boy's shoulder, as if ashamed. The heat radiating from Trowa's chest was nothing compared to the chill of the wetness that danced across Duo's shoulder and slid to the floor.

Duo reached up a hand to stroke his lover's hair, to soothe his wet cheeks. "Don't. They'll only freeze," he murmured.

"Koi," Trowa whispered into Duo's ear.

Around them, the wind moaned through the shattered warehouse windows. But by then, Duo was no longer afraid, nor was he the slightest bit cold.

-----

After the night of the storm, Duo and Trowa went about their business with almost military-precice efficiency, gathering what information they could about the enemy during the day. At night, they'd continue to curl up, bare-chested, beneath the blankets; however, subsequent nights never brought them as close as they'd been the night of the storm. It was as if a tacit, unspoken agreement had been made between the two of them that, although sheer bliss, such activities could only interfere with the job at hand.

When the mission ended -- successfully -- Duo couldn't have been happier to return to the floating base of operations in space. After greeting the other pilots with a hail of exaggerated laughter and sarcastic commentary about being stationed in the "North Pole," Duo went straight to his quarters. And turned the heat up blisteringly high.

But for some reason, he still couldn't sleep, even surrounded by soft blankets, lying upon a comfortable bed. Something was missing. Could it be he'd grown so accustomed to the harsh cold that now he'd have to readjust to his old way of living? Or could it be that sleeping alone gave him queasy butterflies in the pit of his stomach?

Ducking his head out the door, he made sure none of the other pilots were up and about before tiptoeing furtively to Trowa's quarters. Spotting a thin band of light beneath the pilot's door, he tapped a knuckle lightly against the hard steel.

"Enter."

Duo turned the handle and stepped into the cold, sterile quarters in which Trowa resided. There was nothing to suggest any personalization of the room -- no pictures, no decorations, not even a calendar. The only item that kept the room from being completely void of human affects was the doukeshi mask that Trowa wore while performing on Earth, hung from a nail above the bed.

Trowa slipped a pair of reading glasses from his eyes and placed a thin strip of paper in the book he was reading to mark its page. Sitting up straigther in his bed, he nodded in greeting to the American pilot. Duo felt the butterflies in his stomach trying to escape in a rush of anxiety and sweet adrenalin.

"I'll bet you're glad to be back in your own bed tonight, ne? That was some adventure we had in the frozen wasteland of Alberta."

"You could say that," Trowa said impassively.

"Hey, I just wanted to ... you know ..." Duo rubbed his hand against the back of his neck nervously.

"No need to" replied Trowa, as if already anticipating the 'Thank you' that Duo had been trying to mutter.

"Oh. Well," Duo said, forcing a wide grin to his face and a joke to his lips, "it's not every day you save the God of Death from becoming a popsicle."

Trowa merely nodded silently, unnervingly. Duo used to have difficulty accepting silence -- before Trowa, he had to fill every waking moment with idle chatter. If he could keep talking, keep joking, he didn't have to feel. But now, all he wanted to do was feel...

"Trowa?" he asked shyly.

"Yes, Duo?"

Duo stared at his feet momentarily before raising his eyes to Trowa's again. "I'm cold."

Trowa ran his fingers through his long bangs, coolly regarding the American pilot as he set his book to the side. Silently, he lifted the blankets upon his bed and scooted closer to the wall.

Tossing aside his priest's shirt, letting it land in a haphazard pile on the too-neat floor, Duo crossed the room and curled himself up beside Trowa in the bed. "You won't regret it, koi," he whispered, slipping his arms around the boy's waist.

Trowa merely let out a soft murmur and nestled his face contentedly into his companion's hair.