Chapter Text
April 4
Duo Maxwell did not want to go to Japanese anime convention, not even as security. He was a twenty-five year old man with a professional job and a broken heart that was never going to heal. With peace had come many things, most of them good, but one thing that had not come was Heero Yuy. Heero had joined Preventers too and they were partners. They'd shared an apartment and watched stupid precolony shows together. They'd played stupid games together. Neither of them had any idea what hockey was, but they both decided that Heero was Shane and Duo was Ilya. In that last month, Duo had even bleached his bangs Russian blond.
Then Heero was gone.
He'd given Une a resignation letter asking that Preventers not look for him. He was well, but he was
gone.
Duo spent six months in a psych ward. So really a Japanese convention was top three places on Earth or even in the Earth Sphere that he did not want to be in. As it turned out though this Japanese convention was very ethno diverse. There were Japanese people, people from the colonies, and every shade of skin, and then some. Duo saw people, what he assumed were people walking around with grey skin, blue skin, and an inordinate amount of animal ears. Why the Preventers thought he'd been good undercover security for this walking day dream was beyond him.
Then he was walking towards the artist ally space and saw a digital poster for the Japanese band that would be playing that night. Pretty Japanese men always made him stop and stare, just in case. Just in case his Shane came back.
Then the poster showed the lead singer of the band and Duo Maxwell, consummate professional warrior and mentally stable adult screamed loud enough to stop the flow of people at the convention and possibly loud enough to split the Earth in half.
He was falling, slow motion, like he could catch himself at any moment, any time he wanted to, he could stop the planet from breaking in half. Heero fucking Yuy could not possibly be a JPop star! How had Duo not heard about this before! How was this possible? It was not possible.
Then the strongest arms caught him, living him up in a bridal carry. "It's okay," this deep, smooth voice said in Japanese.
"Heero?"
"I'm Yuuto now," the man said. "Yuuto Watanabi. I'm taking you to my private green room. I've got orange soda, tea, and cinnamon rolls. I'm sorry for the shock?"
"Heero fucking Yuy," Duo growled, holding on just as tightly to the muscular form carrying him. "I'm going to rip your intestines out your nose," Duo screamed in Japanese, sounding very much like he'd learned his Japanese watching Yakuza movies.
"As it pleases you," Yuuto/Heero said. "I wasn't good enough to be your Shane."
"Fuck Shane! I wanted you! And if you think fictional men are your goal, just wait till you fines out what happens to Fiyero!"
"I have watched Wicked," Yuuto said softly. "Duo, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you, didn't want to hurt you, but once I started, I had to continue so that I could come back to you and be good enough for you."
"You insane mother fucker," Duo said, face pressed against Heero's neck, soaking the pop star's tee-shirt with hot tears. "You have always been good enough for me!"
"Do you still like to have your cock sucked?"
"Do you think it's that fucking easy? You show back up and I fall back into your bed, give you my heart again?"
"You never ungave me your heart," Yuuto/Heero said as he set Duo down on the bed in the private room. "I never ungave you mine."
And it was that easy!
So much so that Yuuto was almost late, but he came on the stage in a pair of black spandex pants and a green wife beater. He took hold of the microphone and said, "Hello Seattle! Do you believe in true love?"
The crowd roared, but it hardly even touched the joy he felt himself. Duo Maxwell did still love him.