A Whole World Opening
(3x4, R, drama)
Quatre stared at him for a moment, carefully weighing the decision of whether to shake Trowa senseless or kiss the breath out of him. He elected for neither, and stretched out next to him on the cot instead, hiding his face in the curve of Trowa’s arm. “Thank you for saving my life. Don’t ever do it again.”
(2xH, PG-13, romance)
*Click.* The wedding picture--the one that would normally have been displayed proudly on a mantle or in a lace photo album, but ended up spending several years stuck to the refrigerator by an Oreo magnet--was of the bride and groom struggling over a cheap metal ring while trying to get in a really good kiss, with a neon-lit cigarette machine in the background.
Angel in Moloch
(Heero POV, drama)
Heero did not understand, but he envied. He envied the simple strength of simple people, envied them the camaraderie and faith, envied them their belief that he was fighting for something more precious than the orders of his superiors.
(2x1, R, romance)
I think you had no choice but to kiss me, the same way I could do nothing but kiss you in return. I remember how your silhouette shifted as you stood, the bright crimson of the flame licking at the edges of it—and how that heat was nothing compared to the tender brush of your fingers across my face.
Canto Della Terra
(1x2,3x4,5x2,6x9, PG, drama, romance)
Through the porthole high above their heads, the stygian velvet darkness of space filled infinity, expanding, breathing, balancing worlds in frail folds. Stars glittered distant and unreachable, and just within reach the colonies hung in orbit around their adopted sun. And between these, the earth--a brilliant disc of spinning azure and ivory wisps, too ancient to concern itself with the threat its children posed.
(1xR,1x2, PG angst)
"You know what I remember." Duo's soft voice was calm, smooth, his eyes fixed on some point over the horizon that only he could see. "How you used to curl up in bed after the fighting was over and pull the covers over your head, like you were hiding from it. And how I used to tease you out, and try to make you feel better, and tickle you and pretty much drive you nuts. And somewhere in the middle of it all you'd kiss me, and cling to me, and I could feel you trying not to cry. And I'd kiss you back, and we'd make love like we were the only two people in the universe and nothing else mattered. And then--"
Comfort (The Next Best Thing)
(3x4,4xC, R angst)
He was already asleep by the time I made it back to the trailer. I poked my head in to check on him before I went to bed myself. He looked truly pitiful. He was curled up on the bunk, the quilt thrown off and tangled around his legs. All that fine, silky blonde hair was mussed and sticking out from his head, his face was flushed and there were raw red spots under his eyes. He was clutching one of Trowa's old shirts, hugging it against him, as if only by breathing in the scent of his lover on the fabric could he manage to fall asleep.
Coming to Peace
(2x1, R, drama)
The war, at last, is over. My entire life--everything that I have ever been or done--has led up to this moment. My mission is complete.
The Gods of Good Luck
(1+2,3+4, PG, humour)
Trowa, shaking his head at his friends as if they'd all gone insane, hauled himself up by the side of the couch. "Maybe this is too much for some of them...." he suggested, indicating Heero and Catherine, who were glaring at the TV screen. It was probably fortunate for Quatre's big-screen that the knives and explosives had been left elsewhere for the night. "Let's go out and find a good spot to watch the fireworks."
(3x4, PG, humour, feelgood fic)
Sometimes good things happen. For no reason, when you least expect them to, as if their only purpose were to restore your faith in people, or the world, or maybe it’s not even that profound really, and the whole point is to put a smile on your face.
Heart, Mind, Body
(1x2, NC-17, lemon)
It had begun simply enough--just a crush, barely worth mentioning, certainly not worth admitting. He'd chalked it up to the surge of adrenaline, a traitorous hormone that always made the body desire what was not necessarily good for it.
How It's Not Supposed To Be
(1x2, R, drama)
But that's all a dream right now. This is our world--this corner of dark cold metal, the rush of bloodlust and the psychotic thrill of courting death. Fevered sex that leaves us both with bruises, the only release from a battle that scrapes away the edges of our sanity til we barely remember we're human, and whatever wishes I can make for us while I'm huddled and shivering in the void of space
(1+2, Heero POV)
I don't know what possessed me to use that name. Out of all the vast entirety of human nomenclature that spanned a planet, five colony clusters, a moon, and a space fortress, it was the only one I could think of.
Kiss Me Again
(1+2, PG-13, romance)
There is only one thing I know for sure to say, so I do. "Kiss me again."
Kiss Me Jack Frost
(1x2, NC-17, lemon PWP)
The corner of his eye caught the flash of a swinging braid, and he spun. Duo. His heart clenched til it hurt, his jeans grew uncomfortably tighter, and jealous fury rose in his throat like bile as he stared at the living embodiment of the vision that had brought him here. Bathed in the neon eroticism of cheap decour and strobe lights, glitter painted onto his skin and bleeding into the sheen of his sweat, Duo swayed in rhythm with the music.
(1x2, NC-17, lemon PWP)
It was all over for both of them from there--suddenly, it didn't matter that they hadn't discussed this first, or that the carpet was rough and scratched at their skin as they bared each inch of it, or that the lining of Duo's coat was getting tangled in their limbs, or that the thunder crashing outside made the walls shake.
(Duo POV, PG)
It amases me, fascinates me, the way the moon looks from here. It looks too serene and ancient to be the home to mobile suit factories and war bases, even though I know they’re there. It looks so close and so dauntingly far away, even though I was even farther away only a few days ago.
(3x4, R, romance)
Peacemillion makes no revolutions of its own around the sun, it is always dark, and time is measured only in scientific increments. It is only a sort of conditioning, innate perhaps to the human mind, that makes us believe that if we are in bed, dozing toward sleep, then it must be night. Perhaps Jung was right, and that there is some human consciousness that infuses us even when we fight against it. And perhaps I have a tendency to think too hard, when I should simply be enjoying having him in my arms.
(D+C, 3x4, Dorothy POV)
She wasn’t looking at me, but staring off into the night, massaging my shoulders absently. “There has to be a point,” she continued after a moment, “when somebody is willing to take that reckless first step...to take a chance even if there’s a possibility things won’t work out the way they ought to. To be the one who says ‘we shouldn’t be fighting.’”
(3x4, NC-17, drama/romance)
Quatre stared at him for several seconds in shock. "It's that important to /ME/," he declared, when he had regained his voice and some semblance of his former composure, and was rewarded by a flicker of faint surprise in those deep green eyes. "Please..." he sighed, searching for words that his turned-on, emotionally-distraught, and sleep-deprived brain was having trouble locating. "I don't want to hurt you. I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable. And for trying to kiss you...I shouldn't have, but I've never done this before, I don't really know how it works." With that, he crawled out of the bed, stripping one of the blankets from it to wrap around himself. "Get some sleep," he finished wearily. "I'm afraid we're going to have a rather stressful morning."
(2x1, NC-17, PWP)
That earned him a look of pure wonderment from a blank-faced Duo. "You--oh, God." The last word came out in more of a strangled moan as the braided boy seized Heero by the shoulders and pressed him back against the wall, their mouths colliding in a bruising, electrifying kiss. Heero felt his knees go weak, closed his eyes against the swirling of his clouding vision, gripped the soft folds of Duo's shirt for everything he was worth. The other boy's wiry, firm body pressed hungrily against his, every tingling nerve and straining muscle easily felt even beneath the thin layer of clothing that separated them.
(2+1, PG, shounen-ai)
Heero lives in a high-rise apartment downtown, and we walk to the bar. It's not far, and it's better if we actually partake a bit too much if we only have to stagger back. He may have learned to manage the ZERO system, but that doesn't mean I'm letting him drive my ass anywhere drunk. And I want him to get drunk. I want him to lose control, break through the barrier of perfection and just let go, let himself be completely stupid for a night. Besides...I've waited three years. There are some things I need to say to him sooner or later. Maybe tonight'll be the night.
Take On Me
(4x3, R, romance)
So he followed. The boy was waiting for him when he boarded the shuttle. He was tense, though he was trying not to show it, and his eyes were bright with the telltale shine of tears. Trowa was tense too, and guilty, knowing he was the reason for those tears. They faced each other, neither quite knowing what to say, not quite brave enough to touch.
(1+2, 1xR, drama)
He'd stayed with her, when it was over. She seemed to expect it, and it was clear she loved him. He'd imagined that in time he'd grow to love her as well, and the part of him that had been deprived of childhood fairy tales had hoped for true love and happily-ever-after. So he stayed, and protected her, and sometimes shared a bed with her. If he was discontent, it was only because he couldn't force the emotions he was trying so desperately to feel--until now.
(D+R, R+1, 1x2, drama)
I make her beautiful. I do it selfishly, because i like to see her so; because i will spend the rest of my night watching her. I was right about the gown, the way it hugs her body and lends her curves she has yet to possess, the way the skirt rustles and shimmers like moonbeams when she moves. I am the one who fastens the diamonds around her neck, who highlights the smooth skin of her face with powder and rouge and a touch of glitter under her sky-blue eyes. And i'm the one who curls her hair, who gathers it atop her head and catches it with silver pins--it's my artistry that leaves a single ringlet spiraling to her shoulders at each ear, and my trembling fingers that smooth her glossy lips with colour.
The Stars For You
(3x4, angst with a happy ending)
I dreamt that I was holding Quatre's hand, and he was flying. We drifted through space, without shuttles or spacesuits, just the two of us. Wings, like long frayed strands of gossamer and spidersilk, spread from his back, and as long as I touched him I could fly too. "See?" he told me, pointing, his glorious blue eyes sparkling. "The stars are dancing."
To Mohammed the Mountain
(3x4, R, drama, romance)
There are different kinds of crying. There's happy crying, and sad crying, and frustrated crying. Then there's the sort of raw, desperate tears that burst their way forth when all the despair inside can't be held back anymore, and something in the soul finally breaks. I wrapped my arms around Trowa and pulled him against me, and he buried his face in my shirt, remaining hidden there until his eyes were red and sore, and he was too raw and empty inside to cry anymore.
(R+1,2+1, drama, romance)
I'm not blind. Preoccupied, yes, but I don't like to think of myself as a complete idiot. Not that I think they meant to treat me like one--I think we were all confused, trying to grow up as fast as the world needed us to, skipping over the part of life where you learn to deal with all those feelings you don't really understand. They'd saved the world, now I was supposed to shape it--is it any wonder, really, that our personal lives were an absolute mess?
wholly to be a fool/while spring is in the world
(3x4, R, romance, sap)
And Trowa and I /talk/, something we haven't had time for in far too long. Not about the meeting I pulled him out of or the proposal I have to finish for Exports by the weekend, we leave behind for a while the prison of operating procedures and profit margins. We talk about ourselves for once, about how I'm still so afraid I'm going to mess something up horribly, how he still doesn't feel like he quite fits into his job, how we both wake up in the middle of the night sometimes and watch the other sleep, wishing there were even just a few more minutes in the day.