Author's Note: Hey, anyone who might've scolded chibichocopaws for nagging me? Totally off base! Chibi is one of my very kind readers, and to my knowledge has never left an unkind review, or hounded me for updates. The note in my profile about that refers to someone from a different e-mail domain altogether, and frankly, it's old news now. I got over it. But after Chibi's last review, I wanted to state for the record that she's never been mean to me in any way, okay? So, no picking on her.
"Jacob is dead. Word arrived today--a messenger from his regiment brought it, along with a few of his belongings. There's a stack of letters addressed to me, which apparently Jacob never had the opportunity or means to send. I haven't even got the heart to open them. All I know is that there was no need for Jacob to die that way. He didn't have to run off to fight in the war. He should have stayed here and been a son, a husband, and a father. But his guilt over Aaron's death was too great. God help me, I could hate Aaron right now, for what his death did to my son! I can't bring Jacob back, but I can make sure Samuel is never tempted to follow in his foolish footsteps. This child will be raised to cherish family above all else, and only family. The Bartons can take care of themselves, if they just stand together. We don't need the sanctimonious townspeople, or the government, or anyone! We'll take care of our own, and to Hell with the rest..."
--excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton
Smoky Hills Part 34
Rude Awakening
On his way back to town after his relaxing hike, Duo decided to swing by Howie's to top off the gas tank, just in case he and Quatre wanted to do something the next day that involved driving anywhere. He scanned the parking lot for signs of Otto's truck or Trant's beat-up Chevy, and sighed when he saw neither. He wasn't in the mood for their kind of altercation at the moment.
Hilde looked up at the sound of the door chime and when she saw Duo, she smiled in greeting. "Hey there, cutie."
"Right back atcha," he drawled, heading for the soda cooler. "How's things?"
When she didn't respond right away, he turned to see a sort of worried look on her face. "What's the matter?"
Hilde came around the counter, glancing out front to see if anyone else was approaching the store, and relaxing at the sight of the empty parking lot. "Cops came to see dad last night," she said.
Duo's eyebrows shot to his hairline. "What? Why? Your dad's never done anything wrong." He gave a wry smile. "Although, his bein' a dentist--I suppose they could try to charge him with torture or something."
"They wanted some old records," Hilde told him, not even smirking at his joke. "Solo's."
The mailman's jaw dropped, and the can he was holding slipped from his fingers.
Hilde deftly caught it before it hit the floor and held it out, frowning with concern.
"W-why?" Duo managed in a husky whisper, taking the can with a shaking hand.
"Why d'ya think?" she asked a bit snidely, cocking her head to the side and waiting for him to get a clue.
"Dental records--they usually use to identi--" Duo's eyes widened still more and his face paled. "Fuck. They think--? The body on the Barton place--?"
Hilde nodded, moving to slip an arm around Duo's waist when it looked like he might slump to the floor right then and there. "C'mon and sit behind the counter," she urged, escorting him around to the little stool she took her breaks on.
He allowed her to push him onto the seat, his face devoid of color. "Solo--left," he whispered, looking up despairingly. "I mean--everyone knows--he just took off--" He shook his head, his expression firming. "He's not dead, Hilde. Solo's alive--somewhere."
"I hope so, too," she said gently, rubbing his shoulders soothingly.
"I don't hope. I know," Duo insisted. "He's not dead. He can't be."
"It--" Hilde hesitated, not wanting to add to Duo's fears, but unable to help herself. "It would explain why he never came back to you," she said quietly.
"That doesn't matter!" Duo said sharply, warningly. "I don't give a shit why he left any more--or that he didn't come back. But he didn't fuckin' die, Hilde. He didn't."
She gave a sigh, shaking her head. "Well, we'll find out soon, either way."
Duo pushed up to his feet, shaking off her grip, and setting the soda on the counter. "All they'll find out is that his dental records aren't the same as that skeleton they found. That's all."
"Yeah," she agreed weakly, not pushing the issue when Duo was obviously so raw--so in denial. Her expression hardened, though, when he reached under the counter for the little flask Howard had always kept there. "Duo--"
He gave her a dark glare, defiantly pulling the nip bottle out and shaking it to see if there was liquid inside.
"You know I keep it full," she said tartly. "Tradition an' all."
Duo tucked it into his pocket. "I'll bring it back full."
She rang up his soda and the ten bucks worth of gas he requested in silence. But then she caught his sleeve as he turned to go. "Duo--just--don't be driving anywhere while you drink that, okay?"
"I won't," he said unconvincingly, before walking quickly out the door and grabbing the nozzle to fuel his Jeep. It took only a couple of minutes to finish pumping the gas, and then Duo climbed behind the wheel, pulling the flask out of his pocket almost before he was out of the parking lot.
He sipped at it--hell he drained it--while driving straight for the overlook. Although Howard's store had been the last place he'd actually seen Solo, Beech Bluff was the place they'd spent the most quality time. And it was the place he'd always dreamed Solo would show up again, full of apologies for running out on him, and maybe some reasons that made sense.
"Please be there," he muttered under his breath. "For God's sake, Solo--don't be dead."
He got to the dirt pull-off where people parked to walk up to the bluff, and had barely thrown the vehicle into park before he was out the door and running through the woods. At a steady sprint, he reached the overlook in record time, bursting from the trees onto the outcropping and stumbling to a halt, panting for air.
The rocky ledge looked like it always had--like it always would. There was a breathtaking view of the lake below, and the green of the hills surrounding it--almost like a sapphire set in green velvet. The shadows were lengthening across the water as the sun set, darkening it to indigo. And of course, Duo saw none of that.
All he saw was the image in his mind's eye, of Solo lounging across the big, flat-topped boulder, holding out a hand in invitation.
"Fuck!" he hissed, flopping down on the cold stone ledge and staring up at the boulder, hoping by sheer force of will to make his imagination become reality. "They're wrong!" he blurted desperately. "I don't know where you are, Solo--but you didn't end up under some goddamned tree on Old Man Barton's farm. No fuckin' way!"
He stood again, too restless to sit still, and paced the length of the ledge, trying to recall any detail in the past eight years that might prove those dental records wouldn't match the skeleton. All it would take was a single call or card--something that indicated Solo was out there somewhere. If he'd contacted anyone--
"Mueller!"
The bartender at State Line had been one of Solo's best friends, back in the day. He was the only one besides Duo who ever showed any sign of missing the brash, cocky mechanic. In fact, they'd commiserated a time or two--Duo and Mueller--downing a few beers and wondering why the bastard hadn't at least said goodbye, or sent a postcard, or something.
But what if he had? What if he'd had the decency to communicate with his best pal, since he didn't bother with his boyfriend? And what if he'd told him to keep his mouth shut?
"Fuck," Duo muttered, unable to still his vivid imagination now that it had broken loose.
He had to know. By God, if Solo had any kind of communication with Mueller at all, Duo needed to know--and he needed it now.
Besides, he also needed far more liquor than had been in the small flask he'd thrown aside in the Jeep. He wasn't even remotely buzzed yet.
Giving up on the vague notion he'd had when he left Hilde's store--that of drinking himself into oblivion right there on the bluff--Duo headed back down the hill towards the Jeep, thinking instead he'd pay a visit to the State Line Bar and try to drag some reassurance out of Mueller while drowning his fears in the strongest liquor they sold.
He made record time, ignoring speed limits and stop signs with equal contempt, while keeping a sharp eye out for the cops and other motorists. And in no time at all, he was pulling into the dirt lot outside the run-down building, noting with relief that Otto's beat up truck was absent from its customary spot. The last people he wanted to see while grappling with the possibility that Solo was dead, were his two worst enemies.
"Maxwell!" Mueller blurted as the long-haired man entered the bar. "Shit, man. Where've ya been?"
Duo shrugged one shoulder, plopping himself down at the counter. "Around," he said vaguely.
"As if!" Mueller glared accusingly. "I ain't seen you in here in two years--at least!" he continued on with his indignant bluster, even as he was reaching for a frosted glass and the beer tap.
Duo shook his head, making the man pause. "Whiskey," he said curtly. "Bring the bottle."
"Shit." Mueller pulled out a shot glass and plunked it down, then poured it full of Jack Daniels. "What's the occasion?"
Duo tossed back the drink, wincing and blinking as tears stung his eyes. "Fuck," he muttered hoarsely. "Used to go down easier than that."
"As if you could tell," smirked the bartender, recalling all too well how proficient a drinker Duo had become shortly after Solo's disappearance.
Of course, it hadn't been legal for him to drink at that tender age--but he'd had plenty of sources for and ways of procuring liquor.
"Seriously," Mueller persisted. "What's up kid? You ain't set foot in this place since you, Otto and Trant busted it up back when!" He shook a dishrag at Duo, even as his other hand was busy refilling his glass. "Don't start no trouble tonight--got that? Even if Clark or Richter shows up, you better stay cool. The boss will press charges this time."
Duo downed his second shot and gestured for a refill. "'M not looking for a fight," he said flatly.
Mueller snorted skeptically, but poured again.
"Matter of fact," Duo told him somberly. "I wanted to talk to you."
"Me? About what?"
Duo rolled his eyes. "What else?"
"Aw, kid--I told you. I don't know where Solo went. He didn't say shit to me any more 'n he did to you--just disappeared into thin air."
Duo flinched, but kept an intense look on the guy who'd been Solo's closest friend in the world. "Look--I'm not trying to track him down or anything. Or get you to break a confidence. I get that he wanted out of this hellhole. Really, I do. I just need to know--" He swallowed hard against a lump that was trying to form in his throat. "Did you hear from him at all? Even a single call? Ever?"
"Duo--"
"I mean it, Mueller," Duo said hastily. "This is important. I need to know he got out of Smoky Hills. That's all."
Mueller frowned, catching the desperation in Duo's voice. "Why, kid? What's happened?" Mueller leaned in closer. "Did you hear something?"
"Dammit--just tell me he contacted you after he left. Just once. I don't care why, or how, or what he said. But I need to know he really got clear of this town."
Mueller shook his head. "Wish I could help you, Duo. Really, I do. Woulda liked at least a postcard from the bum sayin' so long, or something. But I got nothing. Just like you." His scowl deepened. "What kinda best friend just splits on you like that, hm? I thought he was better than that--that he'd at least have the balls to say goodbye."
Duo lifted his glass with an unsteady hand. "I'm afraid he did," he said raggedly.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," Duo muttered, fumbling for his wallet, and putting enough money on the bar for the drinks, and then some extra before he reached for the bottle.
"Whoa--you know I can't let you take the bottle," Mueller reminded him, grabbing it by the neck. "This ain't a liquor store; it's a bar. You gotta drink it here."
Duo met his gaze steadily. "You owe me, Mueller. Or have you forgotten that time you an' Solo an' Trant--?"
"Fine!" snapped the bartender quickly. "Just--here!" He shoved the bottle towards Duo, who gave him a lopsided grin and a rather malicious wink as he picked it up.
"Thanks, Mule. Trust me--I need this tonight." Duo tucked the bottle unobtrusively along his arm as he headed for the door, although there was only a scattering of patrons in the dark, smoky place.
"Hey, Maxwell."
Duo paused and looked over his shoulder.
"Y'gonna come back sooner next time?"
"I s'pose," Duo conceded.
"And--" Mueller regarded him with a puzzled frown. "Y'gonna maybe explain what this was about?"
"Yeah, I will," Duo replied with only a hint of a catch in his voice. "If it turns out okay, at any rate."
He left before Mueller could pry any further. He rather expected the insightful barkeep might figure it out on his own, anyway. News of the skeleton's discovery was all over town. No doubt news of a possible identity would travel just as swiftly.
Duo climbed into the Jeep, half-tempted to head for the police station next and demand some answers from Ralph. But aside from the foolishness of showing up drunk, after obviously having driven to get there, he knew they'd only stonewall any inquiries he made. He'd have to wait to find out the identity of the skeleton along with everyone else.
Or would he?
Taking a long swig from the bottle of whiskey, he put the vehicle in gear and started towards the too-familiar road around the reservoir. There was only one person likely to know more about those remains than the local cops--and he knew for a fact he'd be home alone this evening.
~*~
Heero had been so wound up after Chang's call, and the resultant cleanup of Thor's paint-splotched face, that he'd taken the dogs out for an extra-long run that afternoon, ending up back at the farm when it was nearly dark.
Leon was yowling sporadically from the barn, demanding his evening rations, and both Wing and Zero set up an immediate screeching at their tardy master when he entered the house.
"Such a welcoming committee," Heero sighed wearily, releasing the dogs in the hallway and tossing their leashes onto the table.
He quickly set about feeding all the animals, if only to shut them up, and then decided he deserved his own meal and a leisurely shower. If Trowa followed his instructions, he'd have the place to himself until bedtime.
So, with that in mind, Heero made himself his favorite saut¨Ĥed mixture, and settled on the couch to watch the evening news while eating it. Thor and Balder gave up their begging the moment he gave them a stern look and a surly growl, and they settled on their dog beds in the corner and chewed on the cow bones Trowa and Catherine had brought back as a joke. Trowa had pointed out to Heero that giving the dogs an alternative to human bones might ensure they didn't end up with another body on their hands.
It didn't seem as funny now that Heero knew the identity of the one they'd already found.
He tried to keep from musing on that while he ate, and headed for the shower right afterwards, so he wouldn't be tempted to watch the clock for Trowa's return. Once again he would have liked his brother's input on the situation. Should he wait for the Smoky Hills cops to dump the news on Duo, or do it himself?
The decision was more or less taken out of his hands a bit later, when he'd finished his shower and returned to the kitchen to wash up the supper dishes.
There was a faint sound from the driveway, which Heero at first assumed to be Trowa returning from his date. And then Balder and Thor ran to the front door barking.
Over their clamor, he heard a sharp rapping, and so he dried his hands on a dish towel and went to answer the door, wondering who on earth might be visiting at this time of night.
When he pulled it open, Duo was standing on the porch, swaying slightly on his feet, a nearly-empty bottle of whiskey in his hand. "Hey 'Ro."
Cobalt eyes widened as Heero took in the braided man's condition.
"Jesus, Duo--come inside and sit down before you fall down--" Heero stepped aside, tugging the dogs out of the way, and letting Duo stumble past him into the living room and slump onto the couch. He followed as far as the doorway. "Are you--okay?" he asked warily.
Duo shook his head. "Obv-isly not," he slurred, leaning back and closing his eyes. "What'd y'r f'rensic guy say?"
"My what?"
"Th' scientisht."
Shit! Duo knew.
"Chang? He--made a positive i.d. of the remains," Heero said carefully, cursing inwardly at the speedy rumor mill in Smoky Hills.
"And--?"
Heero walked to the couch and took a seat facing Duo, a worried look on his face. "Are you okay?" he asked again, hoping to delay having to answer Duo's question.
Indigo eyes blinked open and shot him a reproachful look "'Ro--!"
"Okay--stupid question," he conceded hastily. "But, can I get you something to eat? Or maybe coffee? You shouldn't be out in this condition--"
"Condition's fine," Duo growled irritably, blinking and trying to focus on Heero's face, but failing. "I need t'know." He closed his eyes again, as if it was too much of an effort to stay awake.
Heero didn't want to be the one to tell Duo his missing lover was dead. "Know what?" he stalled, hoping Duo might miraculously have fallen asleep, or in his drunken stupor, forgotten what he'd asked.
Or maybe Trowa would get home in time to help him figure out what to do with the tipsy, obviously-distraught man, preferably before he couldn't avoid blurting out the bad news.
"Who was it?" Duo finally mumbled.
Fuck! The man had a one-track mind even when drunk off his ass.
"Duo--"
"Jus'--tell me," Duo sighed, opening his eyes and fixing a pleading look on Heero's face. "Please."
Heero grimaced at the desperation in that whisper. "Solo," he said quietly.
A faint sound, somewhere between a groan and a sob, escaped Duo's lips, and he suddenly threw himself forward, into Heero's arms, burying his face on his shoulder.
Heero didn't know what he'd expected for a reaction, but that wasn't it. He stayed frozen in place, feeling the trembling of the lean body in his arms, and hearing the muffled sobs against his shirt.
"Shh," he soothed, running a hand down the long braid and over Duo's back. He wanted to say the usual "let it out," or "it'll be okay," phrases he'd used so often in his job in the past--but somehow Duo's pain seemed too deep to brush off with such trite comments.
When the crying trailed off and he felt the body in his arms go limp a few moments later, he realized the stress and alcohol had caught up to the braided man, leaving him worn out and passed out.
Heero shifted his position and deftly picked up the slim body, easily carrying him up the stairs to his own bedroom and tucking him under the covers, after pausing just long enough to remove his shoes. He wasn't about to start undressing his drunk guest without a witness present to attest to his innocent intentions.
Innocent? Not likely. He felt a wayward urge to crawl in beside the slender body and keep offering any comfort he could--
Heero carefully didn't let his thoughts travel down that road right then. In fact, he studiously avoided dwelling on the way Duo's arms had felt wrapped around him, and how angelic that face looked when relaxed in sleep.
"Fucking hell," Heero muttered, tiptoeing down the stairs and heading for the kitchen.
What to do now? He'd just shattered Duo's long-held hope that his missing boyfriend was alive and well somewhere. The odds were that he'd end up having to guide the investigation into Solo's death.
He really shouldn't have a near-stranger, around whom a murder investigation was about to begin, in his bed.
"Where's that damn phone book?" he mumbled, looking to see where Trowa had left it after calling Quatre the previous night.
Yes, Quatre would be the person to call. After all, he was Duo's housemate and boss. No doubt he'd be worried when his friend didn't show up that evening.
Assuming Trowa hadn't distracted the good-looking young blonde into the nearest motel for a bit of private time.
No--Trowa was more serious than that, when it came to Quatre. At least, he didn't seem to be following his usual pattern of short-term affairs.
Heero glanced at the clock, wondering if the postmaster would be home yet, or if Trowa had taken his dinner suggestion to heart. Then he went ahead and dialed the number for Winner in the phone book, figuring he could at least leave a message.
About that same time, Trowa was pulling into the driveway, frowning in confusion at the sight of the red Jeep pulled haphazardly across the lawn, the driver's door still hanging open.
The auburn-haired man parked Heero's car in its customary spot, got out, and walked over to close the door of the Jeep, wondering what on earth was going on. Then, feeling a pang of fear that perhaps something had happened to either his brother or one of the animals, he hastily ran up the front steps.
"Hey, Heero--is everything all right?" he called as he threw open the front door.
"Shhh!" Heero stepped from the kitchen, gesturing him to be quiet, the phone held to one ear. "Yes, that's right," he said to the person on the other end. "No, I think he's okay."
He placed a hand over the receiver and looked at Trowa. "Did you see any damage on the Jeep when you drove up?"
"No--just the door left open," Trowa said with a puzzled look.
Heero moved his hand and spoke into the phone again. "The Jeep looked okay, but I'll check it out more carefully, just to be sure."
"'Ro?" Trowa asked, frowning.
Heero shushed him again, still mainly focused on his phone conversation. "Well, my best guess is that he single-handedly downed a fair-sized bottle of Jack Daniels-- No, he passed out and I carried him up to bed."
Trowa's eyes widened, and as Heero continued to try to explain the situation to whoever was on the phone, the auburn-haired man jogged up the stairs and walked down the hall to Heero's room.
Sure enough, there was someone huddled under the thick quilt, braid trailing across the pillow and over the edge of the bed.
"What the hell--?" Trowa muttered, turning and retracing his steps, determined to get the whole story from Heero.
His brother was apparently just finishing his conversation. "Yes--I'll tell him when he wakes up. Of course he can stay the night." A faint blush crept up Heero's cheeks. "Winner--"
"Quatre?" Trowa demanded. "You're talking to Quatre?" He reached for the phone and Heero slapped his hand away.
"I will look after him," Heero promised gravely. "Don't worry. And have a good night." He hung up the phone and gave Trowa an irritated glare. "If you want to call Winner, do it on your own time. I was just letting him know Duo showed up here drunk off his ass and passed out on the couch."
"What? Why?"
"My guess would be that word leaked out that the local police sent Solo Stevens' dental records to Chang for a comparison to the skeleton we found. Duo came looking for answers."
"And did you have any?" Trowa asked warily.
Heero nodded. "Chang called late this afternoon--shortly after you left. The victim was Stevens."
"Shit!" Trowa blurted, his face paling. "You told Duo?"
"I had no choice," Heero sighed. "He showed up here staggering drunk and pretty much begged to know the truth." He ducked his head, looking a bit sheepish. "I couldn't leave him hanging like that--not when he already knew the records were being checked."
"What'd he say?"
Heero shook his head, turning towards the kitchen and gesturing Trowa to follow. "He just sort of threw himself into my arms and cried his heart out for awhile," he said in a slightly husky voice. "Until he passed out."
"Jesus," Trowa breathed, walking past his roommate to grab a cold iced tea. He popped the cap off and turned to face Heero, taking a long swig before talking. "So--you carried him up to your bed?" He arched an eyebrow teasingly.
"All I took off were his shoes," Heero snapped defensively. "He was in no shape for me to even be thinking about that kind of shit."
"Oh come on," Trowa scoffed. "You can't tell me sliding him under the covers of your bed wasn't--tantalizing."
"Under any other circumstances," Heero admitted. "But right now he doesn't need someone trying to get him into bed--not the way you meant. He needs--a friend." Heero shrugged slightly.
"Yeah, he does," Trowa agreed. "He needs someone to care about him." He gave his brother a long, searching look. "Think you're up to it?"
Heero paused for a long moment and then nodded. "I do."
Trowa frowned thoughtfully. "You barely know him, Heero. Maybe you should have Quatre come over--"
"And do what? Watch him sleep?" Heero shook his head. "That's not necessary. He's down for the count, and probably won't stir until about noon tomorrow. I can look after him until then."
"And what if he wakes up sooner? What if he has a nightmare or something?"
"I've had my share of those," Heero reminded him. "I'm sure I can help him through." His blue eyes turned a bit haunted. "God--seeing him like that--just broken in pieces-- It just about ripped my heart out."
Trowa smiled, but in a soft, approving way, rather than teasing. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." Heero's expression firmed. "I want to take care of him tonight. I need to."
"You are so lost," Trowa said with a chuckle, raising his bottle of tea. "And I'm happy for you."
Heero scowled dismissively. "Don't jump the gun, Tro'. Duo's in shock right now, and hurting. He just found out his childhood sweetheart was murdered and dumped in the woods, when the local cops have spent the last eight years insisting he simply left town. I'm not sure he's going to be in a hurry to get into any kind of relationship."
"Does that mean you are?"
"I--I'm interested," Heero admitted, as if it pained him. "Like you said, he's a handsome man with an intriguing personality. So, yes, I want to get to know him better--help him through this--maybe pursue a relationship, when he's ready."
"Yes!" Trowa crowed jubilantly. "Finally! You admit it."
Heero rolled his eyes. "Get over it, Barton. You've known all along I was attracted to him. Since before even I realized it."
"Well, yes. I am a fairly perceptive guy, after all." Trowa's green eyes gleamed with triumph. "I think Duo's exactly what you need to help you get over your issues, and it's pretty obvious you could be what he needs." He gave a pleased smirk. "It's about time I got the two of you together."
"Technically, the credit should go to Thor," Heero said with a faint smirk. "He's the one who found the bone that started all this. He's the reason Duo's upstairs sleeping in my bed right now."
"Sure--give the dog all the glory," Trowa huffed. "Don't you think my magazine subscription might've helped just a little? I mean, how likely is it Duo would've turned to you if he didn't know you were gay?"
"He came here because he knew Chang would report his results to me."
"Uh-huh," came the skeptical response. "And why do you suppose he threw himself into your arms? You think that was just something he'd have done with anyone?"
"As a matter of fact, yes." Heero shook his head. "You didn't see him, Trowa. He was a mess. I'd lay odds he won't remember our conversation by tomorrow morning." His face darkened. "I'll probably have to tell him all over again."
"Lucky you."
"Your sympathy overwhelms me."
"Hey, I'm sympathetic," Trowa assured him. "At least, I'm going to be gracious enough to let you share my room, so you don't end up sleeping on the floor tonight." He gave a smile at the expression on Heero's face that told him he'd intended to do just that. "Unless you want to--"
"No. Honestly, I don't. I could just as easily look in on Duo every few hours, without sleeping on the floor next to the bed. In your room, I might actually get some sleep in between, too."
"Well then--let's get the dogs out to pee and get ourselves off to bed. If we're going to baby sit a drunken mailman, we should share in the responsibilities."
"I'll take the dogs out. I have to look over the Jeep anyway. And I'll lock up when I come in." Heero gathered the leashes, pausing to look back at his brother. "Hey--I almost forgot to ask how your date went--"
Trowa smiled widely. "In the morning, 'Ro. Didn't we agree I'd tell you in the morning?"
"Yeah, I guess we did," Heero admitted. "Though judging by your expression, it wasn't a total disaster."
His brother's smile turned sheepish. "Well--aside from an unfortunate incident with one of those little rolling carts full of books--"
Heero groaned theatrically. "Tell me your knee wasn't involved!"
"No, but my groin was," came the rueful response. "It was just the right height, and I guess I was paying more attention to Quatre's big blue eyes than where I was going."
"I can imagine," Heero smirked.
"It's okay, though. I got the distinct impression he wanted to offer to kiss it better--" Trowa's eyes went a bit unfocused and dreamy.
"Maybe next time."
"Mmm," Trowa agreed, his mind obviously elsewhere.
"Good night, Trowa," Heero said snidely, snapping the leashes on the dogs and heading out the door.
He didn't wait for a reply, but flipped on the lights and walked the dogs down the steps and over to the Jeep, which as Trowa had said, was undamaged.
"Lucky," he muttered to himself, noticing a few leaves and twigs stuck between the bumper and the body, as if Duo might have done some unintentional off-roading. "Jesus, Duo--" It occurred to him the braided man might just as easily have ended up in the reservoir as at his door that night, and he gave an involuntary shiver.
Thor moved closer, nudging his hand.
"Yeah, I know," he said to the dog. "Close call. Let's see if we can keep him out of trouble in the future, shall we?"
The big wolfhound cocked his head, and then casually walked over and lifted his leg on one tire of the vehicle.
Heero chuckled and fondly patted the shaggy head. "I can always count on you for comic relief, can't I?"
He was grateful for that moment, knowing there'd be less to laugh about the next day when Duo revived and wanted answers.
TBC...
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