Endless Summer Part 11
Hurricanes and Rollercoasters
The smell of cooking eggs, green peppers, onions, and sausage drifted through the beachfront house. After only a few minutes of cooking, there was a frantic scratching at the door. Baka could get out by himself, but he needed help getting back in.
Duo stood up, still in his towel, and opened the screen door. Baka bolted in, letting out a resounding bark that boomed through the house. He danced around Heero's feet, nostrils flaring at the smell of the omelets.
Heero looked down at him sternly, wearing nothing but his boxers and holding a spatula. Duo grinned at the look on Heero's face. "Baka. Bedroom. You'll get eggs later."
Whimpering, the dog gave him a doleful look.
"Now."
Baka gave Heero one last reproachful look, then sulked off to the bedroom with his tail in-between his legs. He laid down in the doorway, looking down the hall at them with pitiful chocolate brown eyes, tail wagging a little.
Duo went over to his bag, grabbing a change of clothes before dropping his towel, aware of Heero's eyes on his back as he changed.
When he turned back around, Heero was watching him, neglecting the omelets. The mood of the room had changed, shifting like winds in an incoming hurricane. The questions were heavy in the air again, making it hard to breathe.
On impulse, Duo ran over to him, loose hair flying, and threw his arms around Heero's neck, covering the Japanese boy's face with kisses-forehead, cheeks, chin, lips. Heero dropped the spatula, pulling Duo into his arms.
Heero's face registered alarm as he saw tears welling in Duo's eyes, threatening to spill over. "Hey, hey, Duo, don't-"
"I won't compete if you don't want me to, Heero! I don't want to! I swear I won't!"
Heero looked at Duo seriously, his voice monotone and no nonsense as he cupped the other boy's face in his hand. "I would never ask you to forfeit the competition over me. I refuse to let you back out over me, Duo. Over us. Besides, all the papers already known you're here and that you've entered. It'd look bad for you if you didn't compete."
"I know..." Duo buried his face against Heero's neck, and Heero stroked the back of Duo's head carefully. "...but you can't back down, either. It'd look just as bad for you."
"Hn. Since when do I care what anyone thinks about me?" Heero growled, a little disdainfully. "If I cared what those idiot reporters and everyone else thought, I never would have quit competing in the first place."
"But... but you promised... you bet and you promised, you already entered..."
"I'll ride at Billabong, too. Just like I promised. And you'll ride at Billabong, and I will show you that it doesn't matter who wins. We need to know if we can handle this. We can handle it, Duo. Aren't you up to a little competition?" Heero's voice took on a subtle teasing tone as he tried for a smile out of the Californian.
Duo looked up into Heero's confident face, the tears in his jewel-colored eyes spilling over. Who won or lost wasn't what he was worried about...
Heero read the thoughts in those swimming violet eyes, and the smile faded from his face; he held Duo tightly. He smelled the eggs beginning to burn and turned them off with one hand without taking his other arm from around Duo, the spatula on the floor forgotten.
"Duo, Duo..." he whispered. "Why? Why are you so afraid?"
Heero couldn't see his face; Duo's deep voice was muffled against his skin.
"They all die, Heero... they always die. I don't... please don't... please don't ride. You said you didn't want to. So if you're not going to let me back out, then please don't compete. I don't want it to be you," he whispered. "Never you."
Heero cupped the back of Duo's neck, rubbing it softly, tangling his fingers in the soft, damp hair there. His expression was hard, but his eyes... it was his eyes that told Duo what he felt. His voice was rough, but his eyes were soft. Those liquid cobalt eyes were as deep and blue as the ocean itself.
"Nothing is going to happen to me. It's just surfing, Duo. It's just surfing. People do it every day, and no one is hurt. No one has drowned at the Pipeline in almost two years. I'll be fine. We'll be fine. Whatever they say about you, Duo... it's not true."
"No, I don't want to talk about it anymore," Duo whispered, trying to pull away.
"We are going to talk about it," Heero replied softly, not letting go. "You listen to me, Duo Maxwell. Do not buy into the crap. It's bullshit. All of it. You're not the God of Death. You never were. Those things that happened-"
Duo jerked free. "-are none of your business!" He glared at Heero, and Heero saw the hurt and the bewildered terror in his eyes.
The two of them stood off for a moment, neither one able to speak.
Finally, Heero spoke again. His voice was soft. "What is it that you think you are, Duo?"
Duo didn't answer his question. The boy's head was bowed, chestnut bangs falling in his face. Instead, he said, "They thought I was crying when it happened at the Rip Curl Classic, Heero. When that great white tore that grom up in Aussie a few weeks ago, when they pulled him out and the surf was all red from the blood, they thought I was fucking crying. But you want to know the truth? The awful truth about it?"
// No. I don't want to know the truth. //
He looked up at Heero, and Heero could see the horror in his eyes, like the gaze of a child who cannot be convinced his nightmares aren't true, not even in broad daylight. "I think I was laughing, Heero... I think I was just laughing."
Duo rambled on. Heero could see his lover's hands shaking as Duo brushed one through his bangs. "I knew it was going to happen. I knew it. But they always bring me back. They always want me to come... why? Death boosts the ratings, that's why..."
Heero grabbed Duo's shoulders tightly, then hugged him hard. "Just stop it, Duo! Stop!"
Duo fell silent, shaking his head violently, his arms closing around Heero's waist with panicky tightness, as if he was the only safe harbor in a storm. Without thinking, Heero picked Duo up and carried him back to the bedroom, stepping over the dog and setting Duo on the bed that was still rumpled from where they had made love the night before.
Heero laid down next to him and pulled Duo close, comforting him silently, reaching up the back of his shirt to rub soothing circles, skin-to-skin. He wanted it off, but he didn't want Duo to feel vulnerable. He wanted him to feel safe.
"It's okay, ko'u ipo," he whispered. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise. I swear."
Duo shook his head. "You don't know that, you don't..."
Heero pulled back from him a little, wiping Duo's tears away gently with the ball of his thumb. "If you don't believe me, we'll make a wager on it. Another bet."
"What-"
Heero's expression was hard and inarguable. There was no denying the calm, cold surety of that gaze. "If no one dies at Pipeline during the competition, then I win. And you can never be called the God of Death again. Ever."
Duo sniffled and closed his eyes, laying his ear over Heero's heart, as if the strong, steady beat of it soothed him. "What if I win?"
"If I'm still alive and someone else dies at Pipeline, I'll never pick up a surfboard again."
Duo was silent for a moment, and Heero was sure that the boy wouldn't speak of it again. But he did. "You sure as hell better not die on me."
"You don't have to worry about me. Or anyone else, for that matter. I'll win the bet. You just concentrate on beating me in the competition. Although that is something you might have to worry about. If I compete, Duo, I want to win. And I-" He pulled Duo closer to him, looking at the long-haired boy with heat blazing in those dark blue eyes. "-always get what I want."
Heero lifted Duo's chin again, making the Californian look into his eyes. He was happy to see that most of the fear and uncertainty in Duo's eyes had been chased away by his promise. He leaned in closer, smiling softly, until his lips brushed Duo's as he spoke. "Don't you know who I am? Who am I, Duo?"
Succumbing to Heero's firm, insistent comfort, Duo closed his eyes and sighed, wrapping his arms around Heero's neck again. Heero was safe. Heero was a talisman. Heero would protect them all. Somehow, he felt sure of it.
"You're Heero Yuy."
Heero's voice was a whisper as he brought Duo's lips to his.
"That's right. And I never lose, Duo. Never."
~*~
They laid together, Duo in soft shorts and a tee-shirt, Heero in nothing but boxers, dozing in the mid-morning sun that streamed behind the bamboo blinds. It painted them with vivid stripes of light and shadow.
Neither of them heard the crash of the frying pan as Baka pulled the omelets onto the floor.
TBC...
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