Can You See Me
Happy New Year!
Disclaimer: I don’t own Gundam Wing.
“I thought that was you,” Trowa mouthed, voice silent, knowing that his words would still have their meaning. His smile lifted just the edge of his mouth, unless one knew his eyes, then you could see it there too.
A soft golden light lit the pretty parts of the room, caressed the dark wood, created shadows on ancient sculptures, and gave just enough light to touch Heero’s blue eyes.
Heero’s lips parted just slightly, surprise catching his breath. Those lips were darkened with a red stain, a veneer that made him look way too sweet to be dangerous. Dark hair, long and smooth pooled on his shoulders before continuing down towards the desk he was about to rob. The facade of feminity left him as he lifted his chin. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t clock you at all.”
Hands behind him, Trowa turned the old-fashioned lock and it fell closed with a click. “I was in the security suite.”
Heero made a small ‘mmm’ sound. Moving at a deliberately normal speed, Heero woke the computer. “I suspect we have the same goals.”
Trowa shrugged. He wasn’t dressed for the party, but for high-level security work in a nice suit, polished shoes, elegant and offputtingly threatening. “Goals can change.”
“Oh?” Heero asked, slipping a simple ring from his finger. As soon as it was free, a glittering swirl of data connected to the computer, transferring the virus that Heero had risked his life to bring in. “You didn’t come to stop him?”
Trowa slipped a couple fingers behind his tie and pulled it loose, while shrugging again. “I was waiting for his son to get home.”
“That’s awkward,” Heero said, moving to the side of the desk. “Who does he think you are?”
“I expect,” Trowa said, pushing way from the door, crossing slowly to Heero. “He thinks no more of me than he thinks of you. He’s never met me. He pays me like shit and he thinks that’s enough to control me. You came in with women. Who do they think you are?”
Heero’s hand reached out to Trowa, before falling back to his side. The veneer that had got him into this secure house, that had given him the freedom to roam the halls, to carry out his mission, now it made him feel not himself. The silver evening gown he wore promised to hide little, but its curves were dangerous lies. Some lies can sink so deeply into one’s being that the truth before the lies can be forgotten. Sometimes one can forget until the truth is right up on you. The lapse left Heero staring into Trowa’s eyes and remembering a self, a time before his willingness to do whatever it took, an innocence that had dreamed. “Why were you waiting for his son,” Heero asked, voice softening, shrinking as it went.
Trowa’s fingers slipped under Heero’s wig, feeling the shorter, less silky hair beneath. They were close enough that Trowa’s warmth could make up for the slightness of Heero’s clothes. Heero told himself he was leaning in towards the strong, firm body so near him because he was warm. He shivered, and he wasn’t sure it was from chill. The shiver only strengthened as Trowa’s hand caressed down his back, to cup his ass. He’d completely forgotten his target and his target’s son as Trowa’s lips brushed slowly over the edge of his ear. “So I could kill him, of course. He and his father are dangerous.
“Oh,” Heero said, eyes wide, mind in a dangerous jumble. “You don’t have to.”
“But I want to,” Trowa said, a playful innuendo as he gave Heero’s ass a gentle squeeze. “Why are you here?”
Heero’s hands slipped under Trowa’s jacket, deeper into his warm, hands sliding over hard muscles, thick and powerful. “I drained his accounts and made all his documents public. I want you to. I didn’t realize it, but I do.”
“You want me to kill him,” Trowa asked, pulling back just enough to look into Heero’s eyes to make sure he was getting it right.
“No, no,” Heero said, hips pressing forward, sharing a hardness that would make that dress an easy lie. “I want you to touch. When you touch me, I remember being me. It’s like, you can see me, really see me.”
“I do see you,” Trowa said, voice deep, teeth on the edge of Heero’s ear. “We should go, unless you want to watch me kill him.”
“Let’s go,” Heero said, reaching for the ring. The computer faded away as if it had never been activated, just a fading of the light. “Let’s just go somewhere, together, and stay for as long as we want.”
Nodding, Trowa smudged his thumb over Heero’s lips, smearing lipstick, smudging the mask. He rubbed the edge of his thumb over his own lips, making it look as if the damage had been done with a kiss.
“No,” Heero said, understanding the need for it to look like they’d kissed, but he needed more truth than that. Sudden passion fired him and he buried his fingers in Trowa’s hair as he pulled him close, kissing him, marking him with this mask, making a secret cipher between them that they’d always know, a member that would always draw them back to each other. Trowa growled and kissed back, tongue drinking in Heero’s truth as if he were touching his soul.
Moments later, a rent-a-cop and a slinky lady of the evening went down the servant’s stairs. Hand-in-hand, what anyone could see was cheap glitter and polyester. They drove away with a fortune on a ring, a warmonger general about to be ruined on the next news cycle, and the new year with the dawn. Hand-in-hand, their world changed. We don’t always see with our eyes.