Disclaimer: I don't own them and I don't make any money off of this.
Warning: Male/Male sex mentioned. Graphic. Violence. Language. Major Angst. Poor Everybody, yet, in the end, extremely sappy. Gomen for the bad Japanese. You know what I mean, just pretend that's what it says! :)
"What are you gonna do with that?" Duo asked as he slumped at the wooden, kitchen table, bangs hanging in his face and amethyst eyes still haunted by the previous night's bad dreams.
Quatre was placing the large soup pot on the table, checking it for rust spots. The safe house they had been forced to stay in was close to collapse. Cobwebs and disrepair were evident everywhere. Going up the steps to the bedrooms was a risk, the treads uneven and full of dangerous cracks. Even the windows were barely sealed, winter wind fingering through every space to fill the ramshackle farm house with freezing drafts.
"Soup," Quatre said thoughtfully. "That's what we need. A really big, pot of soup and some fresh, steaming bread. That's what my servants always made for me when it was really cold."
Duo blinked and scratched at his chin where stubble didn't dare to grow, just yet. "I think 'servants' is the important word here," he replied. "They cooked it for you. Can you do it by yourself?"
Quatre frowned, his gold hair a fall over his childish face. His blue eyes looked offended. "I cook all of the time, Duo."
"Mixes, mainly," Duo replied pointedly. "Nothing this ambitious."
Quatre ran his hands along the rim of the pot, staring down into it. "I think a little ambition is called for. Everyone has been so very tired and on edge. We need something to comfort us and make us relax."
"You didn't answer my question," Duo replied.
Quatre smiled at him and Duo wondered why he looked so mischievous all of a sudden. "No, I don't know how to make soup or bread, but I think a group of talented, Gundam pilots can figure it out, don't you?"
"Stands to reason," Duo replied, but sounded skeptical.
"I'll make a list and someone can slip into town and-" Quatre began but Duo quickly cut him off with a shake of his head.
"You know the rules, Quatre!" Duo retorted. "We shop for supplies before we settle into the safe house. Except for missions, any other movement in and out of the area will alert Oz to our position. You can't compromise our position for soup, Quatre."
Quatre looked crestfallen and Duo felt like a heel, but the rules were there for a very good reason and he couldn't support breaking them. Duo found himself looking around the kitchen, anxious to find something to make Quatre feel better.
"Maybe we have some leftovers, some odds and ends that aren't necessary rations, that you can use?" Duo suggested hopefully.
Quatre looked around half heartedly too. "Like what?"
"Well," Duo thought. "Do you have a recipe? Don't you usually use something like that to cook?"
"No, no recipe," Quatre replied. He opened and closed a few cupboards. He sighed at the contents. "We should never let Heero secure the supplies."
"Why not?" Heero asked as he entered the kitchen. He leaned down and gave Duo a careful, feathery kiss on the forehead, eyes alert for a negative reaction. Heero received a warm smile from Duo in return, as he settled into a chair next to him.
Quatre watched the exchange, puzzled by Heero's caution. The two had been very close and easy with each other lately. It was strange that they had regressed in their relationship. "You bought rations, not food," Quatre said at last. "I wanted to make soup. There isn't any-"
"Water and a soaked ration 113A pack," Heero intoned knowledgeably.
Duo exchanged looks with Quatre. "Mmmm, wonderful!' Duo mocked. "Maybe you'll get some of those nice, hard, undefinable meat bits in it too."
"It's perfectly nutritional," Heero argued.
Duo shook his head and sighed. "You must not have any taste buds, Heero. You're missing out on the great things in life, like cream filled macaroons, malted milk balls, vinegar and onion chips, real meat about an inch thick with really tangy barbecue sauce.... " He smacked his lips appreciatively.
Heero glared. "That's exactly what you bought when you were given supply duty last time," Heero reminded him sourly. "What didn't expire within the week, you ate. Wu Fei had to risk our location by buying more supplies."
Quatre frowned at the memory, turning a little green, "I had to clean up several unfortunate messes as I recall," he said and Duo looked embarrassed and uncomfortable. "Especially after you came down for a late night snack and ended up eating an entire case of-"
"Well, I like those little sausages," Duo cut him off anxiously, "Especially with hot mustard. That's the past, though, Quatre, so stop bringing it up!" He turned back to Heero. "I'm not suggesting that you go overboard like me, Heero, but a few extras for growing boys, a little chance for some variety and fun, wouldn't hurt the war effort."
"We need to be at peak performance," Heero replied, unmoved, "Foods with too much grease and sugar clogs intestines and arteries. The highs and lows of caffeine induced energy do not make a soldier efficient either."
"Yeah, Heero, blah, blah, blah," Duo groaned and dropped his chin on one fist, sighing in defeat. "What that means, I guess, Quatre, is that there isn't going to be any soup."
Quatre looked disappointed. He caressed the big pot as he put it aside, yet didn't remove it entirely, hoping, maybe, for circumstances to change. "I'll make breakfast, then," he said sadly.
"Watashi ganbaru," Duo repeated, "I will do my best no matter what. Maybe that should be my new slogan?" He paused, scribbled down some more notes and then intoned around a yawn, "Watakushi no kokoro."
"Hn," Hero said from his laptop and smirked.
Duo raised eyebrows from where he was sitting, cross legged, on the bed. "What? Did I say it wrong?"
"Do you know what you just said?" Heero wondered.
Duo slowly smiled in return. "Yes."
"Then, if I am 'your heart', then what do you wish, Duo?" Heero wondered.
"Did I say, YOU were?" Duo replied mockingly.
Heero turned his head then and closed his laptop. "If not me, then who?"
Duo put aside his Japanese lesson and stretched out on his back, hands laced behind his head. He studied the cracked and water stained ceiling. "Hm, maybe Wu Fei?"
Heero felt a tightening in his heart that could only be senseless jealousy. He frowned, not wanting to play the game any more. They had so little time lately... "You just have to say, 'stay away', little baka," Heero told him and began to turn back to his work. "You don't have to make me angry enough to leave you alone."
Duo was silent and then he growled. "You don't have any sense of humor Heero. Can't I tease you?"
"Not about something so important, no," Heero replied and he suddenly felt angry as well. "Especially after last night."
Duo covered his face with one arm and swallowed hard. "I don't know why I said it, I told you. After so many crazy episodes, can't you forget that one too?"
"I'm trying," Heero replied, hands clenched in his lap, wishing his strength was good for figuring out ways of the heart. "I need to be sure that you want me, Duo, that my touch pleases you, that you love me enough to not be afraid of me. I don't... I have doubts about myself, the same as any man, whether I'm good enough or simply just good for you at all."
"Same as any man?" Duo lowered his arm and looked at Heero. "What do you know about men? Not as much as me, I bet. Most men are pretty full of themselves. They don't doubt they're good enough, Heero. You shouldn't either. I'm a mess, sometimes, trying to deal with the shit that happened to me, but you're the best thing that ever happened to me, Heero. Just because... just because I called out that pig's name..."
"While we were making love," Heero added cruelly, refusing to soften what had happened. "You had a flashback when I... when I put my tongue in your ear. You lost yourself in it. You thought you were with that man, not me."
Duo's eyes glittered as if he had a fever. "He did that!" he said viciously, shaking and digging hands into the blankets, as if he longed to throw them over himself and hide. "He came every week, paid good money for an entire two hours, and just.... just..." Duo sobbed. He hated himself for it, hated Heero for making him remember it, and hated life for having made him suffer it. The stress of the grueling missions, the cold of the drafty old house, and now a remembered nightmare coming between him and the man he loved, was too much. Duo overloaded.
Duo jumped to his feet on the bed, blankets still clutched hard in his hands. He screamed at Heero, lost in memory, lost in pain, going down the whirlpool of insanity. "I hate you!! I hate all of you!! I hate this place, this world, this fucking universe! Stay away from me! I don't want you fucking me again! Nobody is going to ever fuck Duo Maxwell again! I'll kill you all first. Shinigami will make sure you pay and pay and pay for what all of you did to me!!!"
Heero kept very still, watching Duo's explosion. He waited until the tirade stopped, Duo shaking and crying, before he said simply. "I'll always love you, no matter what, even if you never want me to touch you again."
There was an anxious knock on the door.
"Go away!" Heero snapped. "Everything is fine."
Who ever had knocked went away.
Duo stared, panting, tears streaming down his face. He sat down abruptly, limp and exhausted. The episode was over. Emotions had been bled off, leaving cold shame in their wake. "Some people don't remember when shit like that happens," Duo whispered. He curled up on his side and pulled the blankets over him, making himself a warm nest. "I wish I didn't remember."
Heero stood, knowing that Duo needed to rest and be alone. One he could have for a short time, but the other wasn't so easy to come by. They had a mission that night. Duo had to pull himself together by then and cope.
"Watakushi no Kokoro," Heero whispered as he closed the door behind him and let Duo have what peace he could.
"Aishite Iru, Heero," Duo whispered back, "Forever." As much of an apology as he could manage in his state, and he fell into exhausted sleep.
A dream captured Duo at once. He expected a nightmare and cowered, but it was a pleasant dream instead. Sister Helen was working over an old stove with only one working burner. She had a big pot and something smelled very good.
"Watcha doing, Sister?" Duo wondered; a child with dark, pain filled eyes and an innocent's face.
"Cooking a hug," Sister Helen replied with a smile of indulgence at her wildest orphan. "I found some onions, so I'm making onion soup."
Duo blinked, worried, calculating with a street rat's instinct for self preservation. "That's a lot of water you're using. What if Oz cuts off the water supply again?"
Sister Helen frowned, hating that a child had to think of such things. "The good Lord will provide and the new administrator let the weather controls slip enough to rain twice last week. The rain barrels are full."
Duo nodded, but he didn't look less worried. "Why did you say, 'cooking a hug?'" he wondered at last, tense, but curiosity getting the better of him.
Sister Helen stopped stirring. She looked down at little Duo and said, "What do you think a hug is, Duo?"
Duo shivered. "I'm not stupid! It's when a guy holds you so tight you can't get away."
"No," Sister Helen replied, holding back tears. "It's when someone loves you and cares about you. They hold you gently in their arms and it feels good. That's a hug. Some of you children have never felt that. You won't even let me show you... so, I'm cooking you one just so you know you're loved. Hot soup, cooked with care, and some rations, will warm you inside and out, Duo."
Duo awoke, opening his eyes to evening and a mission yet to be completed. Onions. He thought, as he climbed out of bed and reached for his weapons.
Wu Fei stared down into the large pot. He had come into the kitchen for an energy drink, sweating from practicing his Katana. His black hair was damp and he wiped at his sweating face with a white towel draped over his shoulders.
"Quatre's worse than a fool onna," Wu Fei growled under his breath, but one of his hands stroked the pot, remembering one made out of clay and bubbling on hot coals in his mother's kitchen. Beans, he remembered, and miso. The smell had filled the house for hours.
It seemed ages ago, Wu Fei thought, the time when he had been a carefree scholar in his parent's house. He had been so naive, so full of himself, so much a child. A child, a young man, a boy with hopes for a bright and peaceful future.
"Mamma," he sighed into the pot, "Baba." He remembered his parents sitting about the table, eating his mother's rich soup, their loving expressions for each other and himself, quiet conversation and.... peace.
"To bad, isn't it?" Quatre's voice said at Wu Fei's elbow.
Wu Fei started, scowling his blackest scowl. The golden Arabian smiled gently at him, unperturbed by Wu Fei's drawn gun. Wu Fei holstered it with a curse. "You know better than that, fool! If my control had not been so excellent you would be bowing to your departed ancestors now."
"Sorry," Quatre replied without a hint of it. He continued to smile.
"What?!" Wu Fei exploded as he took his hands from the pot and turned to get his energy drink. "Why do you stand there gaping like an idiot?" He snatched the drink from the refrigerator and then, curiosity getting the better of him, he asked, "What is too bad?"
"That we can't make soup," Quatre replied sadly. "I thought hot bread and some good soup would cheer everyone up, but Heero did the shopping, unfortunately, and we don't have anything that will suit." He shrugged and sighed. "Not that I knew what to put into it any how. I don't have a recipe."
Wu Fei took a long drink, watching Quatre leave the kitchen with a dispirited air. Soup? Wu Fei imagined the house filled with the rich, bubbling aroma he had so loved as a child.
"Beans," Wu Fei said under his breath, thoughtful, and then remembered something he had seen while driving to the safe house. He nodded firmly to himself and went to change his clothes.
"Water?" Trowa peered around his bang into the pot. Quatre shoed him back with a wooden ladle.
"You'll get hair in the soup, Trowa, love."
Trowa blinked from the pot to Quatre. Quatre smiled at him gently. "You have a recipe in mind?" Trowa wondered.
"Recipe?" Quatre replied innocently.
Trowa sighed impatiently. "Not with me," he admonished. "I don't fall for those blue eyes of yours."
Quatre batted them. "I thought that's why you fell in love with me, because of my eyes."
Trowa stared into them, lost for a long moment, and then he frowned. "If you want me to think that you are fool enough to boil water and call it soup..."
"But that's exactly what I'm doing," Quatre replied with a chuckle. "So I guess I'm a fool."
Trowa stared into the pot again, trying to understand what madness was gripping his lover. Faintly, on the edges of memory,
Trowa recalled his mother making soup in an iron pot over a campfire. Gypsy stew, she had called it, meaning it was anything that happened to cross their path while they were traveling in their wagon from city to city.
Warmth spread through Trowa, along with sadness, remembering her face only dimly, but more strongly her competent hands. They had been firm and unfailing whether high on a trapeze or holding her son in a loving embrace. He recalled his father singing old tunes while he worked with the wagon, his sister playing with her handmade rag dolls, and the smell of gypsy stew filling every nook and cranny of their camp. Somehow, that smell had made deep forest or open countryside the four walls of a home, their home.
"Trowa?" Quatre said softly, feeling his lover's emotions as if they were his own. "Maybe... maybe this was a bad idea. I didn't mean to make you remember sad things."
"Not sad," Trowa replied and took a steadying breath. He looked distractedly around the kitchen. "Herbs," he said.
"Too cold," Quatre replied despondently.
"No, they're there," Trowa replied as he headed for the door. "If one knows where to look."
"Whoohoo!" Duo crowed as they left their Gundams in hiding and headed for the safe house. "We sure kicked Oz ass, didn't we Heero?"
"Hn," Heero frowned. "You were sloppy when they came up on our left. I almost lost my- "
"Something I have to do, Heero," Duo cut him off as he wiped smoke and some blood from a split lip off of himself with a rag. "We'll recap Duo's greatest fumbles when we get back to the safe house, k? You go on up ahead. I won't be long."
Heero stared. "You took several hard hits. You have a bruise as large as my hand on your forehead. Gundam maintenance can wait until you're checked out by Trowa."
Duo grinned. "And I love you too, Baby," Duo replied, "But it's not about that at all. It's just something I saw earlier that I think we might be needing. It's not a dangerous mission or anything. I'll be back, safe and sound , in a jiffy."
"No," Heero replied firmly.
Duo stood, suddenly very quiet, hands on hips and eyes on the ground. They stood that way in darkness, Heero like a wall against Duo's will.
"I hurt you," Duo said at last. "I forgot that it was you and I confused you with a rapist. I'm finding it hard to live with that. I know you are too. I kept thinking about it while were fighting. I shouted at you. I said some awful things. I accused you of being like all the rest of them." Duo paused, counting heartbeats, and then he said. "You wondered if you were good for me. I wonder if I'm good for you. I have mental problems and they are never going to go away. I'm sorry that I said those things to you, but you know it's going to happen again as soon as I get upset, insecure, too stressed and bitten by memory."
"Yes, I know," Heero replied, and then, "But you seem to be making the false assumption that I am more 'normal' than you are and therefore could pursue a better, more 'normal' life, without you. Because of my training, integration into any civilian lifestyle would be impossible for me. My life would not be better without you and, I warn you, you have become essential for the continuation of my existence. "
Duo puzzled over that and then he smiled, "You're saying that you would die without me?"
"Hn."
Duo reached out hesitantly and took Heero's broad, scarred hand in his. He brought it to his lips and kissed it passionately. "Well, I feel I should give you the option of running away from me once in awhile, despite what you're saying. It's only fair."
Heero frowned, not understanding.
Duo dropped his hand. "I'm going," he told Heero strongly. "And you are not going to stop me. Shinigami can take care of himself Heero."
"Where are you going?" Heero wondered, perplexed. "What is your mission?"
Duo grinned and sauntered off into the night, saying over his shoulder. "I always show you the bad stuff from my past and make you suffer through it too. For once, I'm going to show you something good. Be patient. Wait for me."
Heero watched his lover disappear into the darkness, heart battling with head, wanting to stop Duo, demand more of an explanation or simply stop his madness all together. Duo was injured and weary. If there was trouble.... Heero turned for the safe house. He had heard the emotion behind Duo's words. Whatever he was doing, it was extremely important to him. Heero listened to his instincts and trusted Duo to come back to him unharmed.
"You stole them?" Quatre raised disapproving eyebrows at Wu Fei as Wu Fei cleaned an assortment of beans and peas in the sink.
Wu Fei shook his head, indignant. "I am fighting for their cause. It is payment for my services and sacrifice."
Heero heard the tail end of the conversation as he paced into the kitchen. "What is going on?" he demanded roughly, his worry for Duo and the stress of the last mission making him more than ready for an explosion of temper. The two other pilots felt their danger.
Wu Fei carried his beans over to Quatre's pot and began pouring them in. "I appropriated some beans from a nearby farmer's wife. I noticed her, selling them in decorative containers on the roadside, as we drove by on our way here. Her small, wooden stall was far from any other habitation. I didn't compromise our position by breaking into it."
Quatre waited, watching Heero, seeing the tick of leashed emotion along one jaw. Finally, Heero sat down at the kitchen table. "Acceptable," he said simply and Quatre found himself letting out a breath.
"Oh, all right," Quatre said brightly and began to lift the pot to the stove. Trowa was suddenly there at his elbow, helping him. Quatre smiled at him in greeting. "Thanks, Trowa," he said, "It's heavy."
Trowa stole a brief kiss and then held up the result of his search, shriveled herbs that were still a little green. They smelled pungent and wild. "Sometimes the snow preserves instead of destroys," he said quietly, "Add them last, so that they keep their flavor."
"Perfect, like you," Quatre sighed. "Thank you."
Heero grunted. "Beans and herbs. What will you do for broth?"
Wu Fei looked at Heero in surprise. "What do you know about making soup?"
"Don't suggest those ration packs again," Quatre warned with a queasy look. "I wouldn't be able to eat the soup knowing those things were in it."
"The nutritional value-," Heero began and then let it go. He was too tired and too worried. He rose and left the three pilots alone with their project. He went out to the front porch and settled on the steps, huddling in on himself to keep warm. His dark, blue eyes stared out at the darkness, willing Duo to appear.
It was a long while before Heero's will was obeyed. Duo came out of the darkness quite suddenly, a limp evident, utter weariness on his bruised face, and a small bag knotted around one hand. He grinned at Heero and gave him a thumbs up.
Heero walked to meet him and cautiously reached out. Duo watched his hands nervously and then slowly came into Heero's embrace. Heero held him loosely and Duo rested his cheek against Heero's heart. He felt the warmth there for a long moment, remembering Sister Helen's words. In Heero's arms, Duo had learned that a hug was an expression of love and gentleness, not pain and torment, but Sister Helen had hugged him first with her words and then with her soup, teaching him that someone COULD love him. Duo wanted to feel that again, remember Sister Helen, her words, and her soup. He wanted most of all, though, to share it with Heero and let him touch that cherished memory with him.
Duo held up the bag as he broke the embrace. He grinned at Heero's questioning look. "Wild onions from the old garden of that dilapidated farmhouse down the road," he said and laughed.
"We still need a broth," Quatre sighed.
All the pilots were gathered around the stove, staring into the pot at their contributions. Heero was the exception. Frowning, he suddenly made a decision, a decision that held some embarrassment for him. He stood and left the kitchen.
Heero remembered Odin Lowe, his first teacher, the man who had taught him to be an assassin at a very early age. Heero remembered him in fine detail, everything he had ever said, every expression and movement of the man's body; eating his mentor whole mentally so that he could be perfect, so that he could earn the man's praise. That praise had been the only joy Heero could remember during that time... except for one evening when Odin Lowe had fished a pot from under an efficiency hotel room stove and boiled water. Heero had watched him avidly, expecting some new technique that would make him even more efficient as a killer. Instead, Odin Lowe had begun throwing in rice, cutting up his ever present stash of beef sticks, and throwing both ingredients into the pot.
The smell... Heero recalled it as he climbed the unsafe stairs for his and Duo's room. It had been a rich, beefy aroma. Heero had puzzled over the smell and Odin's actions. They had always eaten ration packs and vitamin supplemented, bland, mixtures. Odin Lowe had never cooked as far back as Heero could remember. When the man had finally ladled out a bowl and put it in front of Heero, he had looked uncertain of his own actions. He had muttered half heartedly, "Merry Christmas, Junior."
Heero recalled despising the man's sudden weakness. Now, looking back, he felt regret and an aching sense of loss for the missed opportunity; a moment of shared kindness with the man he had known as his 'father'.
Returning to the kitchen, Heero tossed twenty long, thin sticks of summer sausage onto the kitchen table. Everyone turned to look. Duo approached the stash with wide, purple eyes. His braid swung to and fro as he looked from it, to Heero, and then to the other pilots. "Junk food," he said at last, and then laughed. "My Heero has junk food?"
Heero scowled and sat down heavily in a chair. "It is a protein and it has a long shelf life. It is an acceptable meal in case of shortages."
Duo smirked. "Junk food," he retorted, gathered them up, and then held them out to Quatre. "Will this work?" he asked hopefully.
Quatre smiled. "I think it will."
They all sat around the table, hot, whole wheat bread and bubbling bean and onion soup in front of them in cracked and worn pottery plates and bowls. The house was filled with the smell, rich and powerful, soothing and comforting. Snow was falling gently outside, powdering weather ravaged safe house and hiding Gundams under white blankets. The warmth of the heater and the stove, the steaming heat of the bread and soup, kept out the cold, bitter fingers of winter. It wrapped the pilots in a soothing embrace, lulling them in good memories.
Duo leaned against Heero and smiled up at him. Heero looked down into his beautiful lover's face, his heart in his eyes. Very softly, Duo began to tell Heero of his past, of the one sweet moment he could remember, of Sister Helen and her hug. The others listened, sharing the memory with him.
Quatre smiled with self satisfaction, knowing he had tricked them, but content all the same. For a little while, they had peace. For a little while, they were home.
***Owari***
Oh, so sweet, wasn't it? My teeth are hurting!!!! This was based on a folk tale called Stone Soup, for those of you who will eagerly try and email me to tell me so, ha, ha. Actually this scenario happened to me and my friends twice when we wanted dinner and didn't have much on hand. Everyone contributed and it was very fun and comforting. (Fond memories galore)
For those of you who were worried about poor Kracken's health, domo! I am feeling much better.