Chapter Text
With a deep-set frown, Heero checked each of the hooks in his closet again, one-by-one. There was a set of shorts missing, he noted. He knew it for a fact -- he had exactly fourteen outfits, washed on a weekly basis, one set out of commission while the other were laundered. It was an efficient, economical system. However, the system only worked when all items were present.
And one of the items was decidedly not present.
“Duo…” he muttered under his breath.
Heero glanced at the bathroom door that connected their rooms. It was much too easy for the other pilot to saunter in here and just ‘check-in.’ The living arrangement wasn’t ideal, but no one told any of them that being a war hero didn’t pay. They got by, naturally, and realistically, they could afford to live apart.
When the dust had settled though, they -- he and Duo, that was -- had gotten used to being roommates. Besides, who needed all this room? A bed, a hotplate, a sink, and a toilet. That was all Heero needed and all that could all be crammed in a room the size of a broom closet, for all he cared about. They didn’t have rooms like that though and everything they did have was too big for one person. It made more sense to share a place.
The bathroom tiles were smooth and warm. Duo always turned the heat up too high and always forgot to turn it off before he left. The apartment was always warm as a result -- warm when he woke up, when he got home, warm when he slept. It was strange after years of sleeping where they could, when they could. Everything being warm, so consistent and unchanging.
Heero’s hand hovered over the door, but he paused before knocking. He could hear Duo moving on his bed, the soft rustle of the sheets as he shifted and the pages of a book being turned. Heero always knocked before he entered even though Duo always barged in. The only warning Duo ever gave was the patter of his feet on the tile, the burst of excitement that oozed out from under the door before it flew open with a whirl of wind and Duo at it’s heel.
Strange, Heero thought as he banged on the door with his knuckles -- just once -- before reaching for the handle and pushing into the brightly decorated room. He couldn’t remember what it felt like without that excitement ready to invade his space at any moment.
Duo looked up and met Heero’s eyes from where he sat on the bed and said, “Look who decided to interact with people today. What’s up?”
“My shorts,” Heero stated flatly. “Where are there?”
“Aren’t you wearing them?” he grinned back at him, flipping through the pages of the comic as if he was searching for a particularly juicy portion.
“These are Day 3’s shorts,” he answered, gliding to Duo’s closet and pulling it open. “I’m missing Day 12’s shorts. Where did you put them?”
“What, do you have the days stitched into the waistband or something?” Duo teased, but he straightened on the bed nervously. He watched Heero intently. “I don’t have your shorts. Maybe they’re in the laundry.”
“You’re wrong,” Heero said, pushing a hanger off to the side after he finished inspecting what was hanging from it. “I always conduct an inventory after every wash cycle.”
“Talk like a real person, why don’t ya?” Duo sighed. “It’s not in there, so will you --”
Heero paused and looked over his shoulder. “There are only two places it could be. In my closet, where I put them on the hanger designated for Day 12’s outfit. Or in here, where the only other person who lives here would have put them.”
“Hey, maybe they sprouted legs and walked off?”
“Unlikely --” Heero scoffed but the unusual sensation in his hand distracted him.
Not so much unusual as it was -- soft? The rest of the garment came into focus after a moment, but not until Heero squinted at it. He yanked the hanger out of the closet and examined the…thing. Not so much a thing as it was -- a dress? He wasn’t familiar with colors, but it was a girlish shade of red. Pink? It was pink -- the short, slightly puffed sleeves, the bodice of lace with intricate design. Everything…except the trim along the bottom…the white lace with a lotus flower design.
It was a dress.
“Duo,” Heero said. He looked down at the hanger in his hand still, the dainty fabric willowing slightly as a draft rolled through the room. “There is a dress in your closet.”
Duo shrugged, eyes rolling along the pages of the comic. “I know,” he said calmly.
Heero waited a beat for more explanation. A dress. It’s a dress, Duo. A woman’s dress. Heero hummed, face twisting in thought. Has there ever been a woman in this apartment? The idea of Duo with a woman was…hard to picture, but Heero supposed it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Duo was a functional male with needs that needed to be satisfied. He’d just never thought about the possibility of Duo with anyone before. He swallowed thickly at the thought of Duo with a woman -- Duo with anyone. How hadn’t he noticed that before? It didn’t make sense. None of this made very much sense.
“Whose dress is it?”
He shrugged again, but his eyes had stopped darting along the page. As if he’d stopped reading. “Mine.”
Heero jerked around to stare at Duo openly but Duo was more fascinated by the comic that Heero was sure now he wasn’t reading anymore. Briefly, his mind tried to picture Duo in the soft cotton dress, but every time his mind failed to full render the image. Duo in a dress, he thought. It was -- a thought. “You’re a man though.”
Duo’s shoulders may fall out of their sockets if he shrugged again. “Last I checked, I guess I was.”
“Men don’t wear dresses.”
“Well, let’s see,” Duo hummed. He flipped the pages of the comic slowly, but behind his eyes, Heero could see the thoughts racing. “That’s my dress. I wear it. So I guess men do wear dresses.”
Heero’s eyes widen imperceptibly. “You wear it?”
“Yeah, that’s what I said,” Duo replied. He looked up now, for the first time since Heero’d found the thing, and met his eyes. “I’ve worn it.”
“When?”
“Here and there.”
“You’ve worn this out?” Heero said as he hung the dress back in the closet. He gave it another searching look. He tried to picture Duo in it again -- walking down the street, waiting for a friend, waiting for the rain to let up, waiting for someone who wasn’t a friend but wanted to be -- “I’ve never seen you wear anything like this.”
“I haven’t worn it outside my room, if that’s what you’re asking,” Duo frowned. He straightened his shoulders and didn't quite look at Heero. “What, you freaked out or something?”
“No,” Heero decided. “I suppose clothes are clothes. They serve the same purpose.”
“You shouldn’t be going through people’s closets, by the way,” Duo said as Heero turned to face him fully again. The taller pilot stared at his roommate considerately, causing Duo to jerk back defensively. “What are you staring at?”
“What is the purpose of buying something so elaborate if no one will see it?”
“I see it. That’s enough,” Duo mumbled, embarrassed to even say it.
“I see,” Heero nodded. “So you don’t have my shorts then?”
“I told you, you probably left them in the laundry.”
“I didn’t leave them in the laundry.”
The corner of Duo’s mouth slackened. “You’re real stubborn, you know that?”
Heero glanced over his shoulder again, at the dress that seemed to stick out so starkly against the black shirts Duo usually wore. “Would you care to bet?”
“What?”
“If they’re in the laundry, then I’ll clean the apartment for a week.”
“Okay now,” Duo smirked. “I’m listening.”
“But if they’re not…” Heero trailed off, eyes trailing the lace on the bodice of the dress. “Then you have to wear that dress. Outside the apartment.”
“Wait, what?” Duo swallowed quietly. “No --”
“Oh?” Heero hummed. “Not so confident?”
“I am,” Duo grunted. He smiled faintly and shook his head. “Nah. If they’re not there, then how about I clean the apartment for a week?”
“I see,” the pilot nodded. His eyes flickered down, a hollow sensation in the center of his chest. “Coward.”
That seemed to get a reaction out of Duo; he scrambled up in bed, and looked up at Heero. His eyes were dark blue, violet at times, like the sea in the dead on night with moonlight and darkness mixing -- like choppy waters, waves crashing against the shores. “Coward?” Duo laughed softly. “You’ve got me confused with someone else.”
“Then should I check the laundry?”
“Sure,” Duo replied evenly. “But Heero?”
Heero looked over his shoulder from the doorway of Duo’s room. “What?”
“Where am I gonna go all dressed up?”
Heero shrugged. He didn’t have an answer.
“And how’re you gonna know I actually go out?” Duo continued. “I could put the thing on and just hang out in the stairwell for a few hours.”
“You have a point,” Heero considered. “I’ll supervise then.”
Duo swallowed through a hitched breath. He laughed, a breathless quiver belaying the confidence. “Gonna take me out then?”
The vein in Heero’s neck felt stiff now. “A bet’s a bet,” he said calmly. Duo’s head jerked up in something like surprise. “I have to make sure you follow through on your end of the bargain.”
Suddenly, the air felt alive with electricity.
“Fine,” Duo replied with another shrug, eyes averted before coming back with a growing challenge.
Heero nodded, taking two steps out of the room before he paused. He looked over his shoulder, remembered the frilly pink thing and eyed his roommate, still sitting on the edge of the bed. Duo stared out the door, right at him.
“Duo?”
“Yeah?”
“You sure you don’t want to back down?”
Duo leaned back and shook his head. “Nah,” Duo said, and Heero could hear the full challenge in his voice. “A bet’s a bet, right?”
Heero smirked and shrugged again, off to confirm what he knew was fact. They weren’t in the laundry, he noted as he saw the black shorts over the back of the sofa. “A bet’s a bet.”