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'Til Death us do part	By : ClareSelley Category: Gundam Wing/AC > Crossovers Views: 896 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or Highlander, and I make no money off this.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
Duncan ignored the few people hanging around the entrance to his partner's apartment, muttering a calm 'No comment' to all and any questions and ducking his head with the ease of long practise to avoid any recognisable photographs or video being taken of his face. It was probably a good thing that the cameras wouldn't get a clear look at him, he thought with faint glowering amusement, the expression currently on his face would most likely shatter the glass.

Richie. Why the hell did he have to think of Richie? For that matter, why in all the Gods' names did Duo have to remind him so much of his old student? They were both jesters, and more streetwise than any teenager deserved to be, but... And that was enough, wasn't it, really. Especially for his brain to pair the two. He cursed under his breath in Gaelic, he did not need another Richie, not after... And again, he felt his mind skitter away from the racetrack.

Except, the braided man wasn't Richie. He forced that thought into his mind, focusing on the differences to distract the thoughts of his blonde student. Duo had seen more death, caused more death, than the young Immortal ever had, even around a guy who had attracted enemies like flies to a banquet for several years. Richie would never have earned the title that Duo had given himself. And that started another thought that whispered through his head. Methos. Methos would probably be rolling around with laughter at the self-named Shinigami's name. Well, assuming Duo hadn't told him it before he killed him. Damn.

He found his way to a liquor store that he often frequented near the canal, near enough to walk to that he hadn't needed the car, allowing himself a distraction by wondering how his young partner had talked him into buying beer for the party. Oh, yes, he'd explained that he'd ensure Heero checked the security before the party started, it wasn't as if they'd be leaving the flat after all, told him that he as he wasn't on Preventer grounds, Une would never need to know, even if they were technically on duty, and smiled brightly enough to light up his violet eyes in a way that he'd not felt entirely comfortable with. Quatre had then chimed in to assure him that all the pilots were perfectly competent even after a few drinks, oh, and he'd not be drinking much, so he could protect himself if required.

Before he knew it, the blonde had fished out a wallet, pushed a hundred dollars in to his hand and all but shoved him out the door. Sighing with resignation, and still caught up in his memories, he'd headed down the stairs, wondering as he reached the bottom how he'd been out-maneuverered by a pair of teenagers.

The store owner greeted him with a familiar wave, which Duncan returned with a smile out of long habit. "Ah, Mr. MacLeod, how can I help you tonight?"

Scanning the shelves, Duncan shot a sideways conspiratorial glance at the other man.. "Hi, Veeron, I'm having a party tonight - do you think I could have a look in your special selection?" If the Winner CEO wanted him to spend money, he'd at least spend it on the good stuff.

"Of course, Mr. MacLeod," With a wink, the shopkeeper gestured him over to the small locked cupboard where he kept the rarest of his stock and unlocked it with a smile.

The Scot allowed his eyes to widen appreciatively as he looked over the exotic selection, searching for a familiar bottle that he hoped would be available. Ah, yes. "I'll take the bottle of the L4 single 25," he said, letting the owner's slender fingers remove the precious whisky from the cupboard. It wasn't as good as the genuine 50-year-old Scottish nectar that he had had sitting in one of his warehouses for the past thousand odd years, however without figuring out a way to explain his ability to afford a million dollar bottle of alcohol, it would have to do. As it was, the whisky with the beer, a bottle of wine, some fizzy drinks and a few bottles of luxury favoured sparkling water for Quatre came to over the $100, and he pulled the remained cash from his wallet. Hopefully he'd be able to get it back from Duo, given it was his party after all.

He packed the precious liquid into a bag and was making his way back toward the flat when all his senses went on high alert, the silent warning buzzing through his mind with an old familiarity. Ducking into an alley, he checked the darkness, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dimness as he positioned himself and drew his katana from his coat, tucking his bag behind a dumpster.

It had taken about two months for the information that Duncan MacLeod was back from space, and therefore fair game, to circulate. Since then, while he hadn't been as popular as he once had, thank God, he'd had regular challenges from head hunters as they entered Brussels. None of them had left the city yet. He still felt slightly guilty on behalf of the police whenever he took a head - the person committing the recent spate of decapitation murders – the ones that he knew he wasn’t responsible for at least - hadn't been found and the case had no leads with a little help from the Quickenings shorting out all the electrical equipment nearby and the Watchers' contacts within the law enforcement departments managing to remove most of the evidence. Sadly, they couldn't remove the evidence of the headless bodies, and it wasn't always practical to weight them so they sank to the bottom of the canal.

It was only moments later when a large silhouette appeared at the entrance, and it was obvious that the figure had seen him as it stepped forward, pulling what looked like a long narrow knife from a back scabbard.

Duncan sighed, "We don't have to do this."

"My name is Dekas Abraham. If you want a formal challenge, I can issue one?" The voice was strong and calm, with a hint of an old American accent

"Have it your way," Duncan shrugged, bringing his own weapon into a guard position, "I am Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. Shall we get on with it, then? I've got a party to go to."

He knew the first few feints were a test, and parried them easily, batting them away as he tested the tall heavy-built man in turn. Allowing his focus to settle throughout his body, he allowed the blade to become an extension of his body, blurring into motion as he turned a feint into a full attack.

He was met with a fierce attack, and quickly lost himself in the familiar movements, keeping one eye on the other Immortal's free hand from long experience. When the dagger appeared in Dekas' hand, he was ready for it, twisting around the underarm strike with ease.

The extra weapon was swiftly utilised to parry the Scot's blade, and Duncan found himself frowning in concentration as he slipped between the thrusts to score a slender slice across the other man's t-shirt, before backing off to push the on-coming knife away from taking a similar path.

He realised he'd underestimated the other man's skill as they circled, both re-adjusting their opinions and strategies. Suddenly he found himself manoeuvred around so that his opponent was in shadow, outlined by the streetlights from outside the alleyway and before he could reposition himself, the pommel of the American's dagger caught him on his temple. The blow stunned him for a moment and only instinct saved his neck as the blade swept round. Allowing himself to fall backwards into a controlled roll, he brought his sword up to block even as he felt the sting of the short dagger bite into his leg. Cursing, he managed to parry the flurry that the other Immortal rained down from both of his weapons as he struggled to his knees.

Suddenly, he felt, rather than saw, an opportunity. Whirling round on one hand, he swept one leg up and around, whipping under the other man's legs. Before the American hit the floor, Duncan bounced back up, ignoring the blood seeping down his leg as he brought his katana to the man's neck.

"There can be only one," He murmured the familiar words almost tenderly as he swept the blade around, decapitating the other Immortal cleanly before sinking to his knees to await the Quickening as the body fell with him.

It started quietly, a silent wind that was felt brushing over his skin like a soft kiss, lifting the white mist from the floor gently to wrap around his shoulders like the shroud of the dead Immortal.. Then the crackling of the lightning began, echoing in the small passageway as the sparks began to fly within the whirlwind. Suddenly, the bolts began striking at him from almost nowhere, shorting out the streetlight in front of him even as they lit up the darkness, rippling over his body and sword in a painful caress.

He couldn't hold back the shout from the pleasure-pain as the electricity shot through him, the other Immortal's Quickening fighting within him for dominance before he felt his own energy overwhelm it, subsuming it into the current that ran through him.

Panting, he stayed on his hands and knees where he'd fallen forward while the storm ravaged him, waiting for the silence to stop echoing in his ears and reality to reassert itself.

It never gets any easier, MacLeod. Sometimes it just gets harder. Hamsa's final whisper echoed in his head, and he sighed. The young head hunter had attained almost legendary status in the early days of the After Colony era by taking so many heads, including several old ones, in his first fifty years. Panicked, several Immortals had stretched the rules of the Game by arranging a fight that the over confident youngster would have been unable to resist and unable to win.

Swept up in the fear, he'd still found himself unable to allow the dishonourable fight to go ahead, and challenged the youngster before the trap was sprung. He still wasn't sure if it had been pure luck or if he'd imagined the plea in Hamsa's eyes even as the other man furiously parried his blows, but he'd seen an opening and taken it. It had taken hours to settle the Quickening, and he was almost certain the younger Immortal had lost himself amongst the constant storms he inflicted upon himself, much as he had once done taking Coltec’s head, his sense of self simply not strong enough to stand up to the other currents he took into himself.

A moment later, and he was certain that the last vestiges of the other Immortal were gone. Checking his sword over, he cleaned the katana's blade on the dead man's clothing before throwing the body into the dumpster, relying on the Watchers to pick up and destroy any forensic evidence as usual.

Suddenly hearing a slow hiss, he turned to frown at the brown spray that was spurting to cover the wall near the dumpster, before digging into his bag to pull out the ruptured bottles of fizzy drink and tossing them into the bin with a resigned look. You could never predict Quickenings, but at least the whisky was fine, and the rest of the drinks, even if they were now covered in sticky syrup.

Great. This was just great. His black jeans had a hole in with congealing blood around the edges, which Duo at least would recognise as a knife wound, although with no actual wound, his nice white t-shirt was muddy and splattered with Dekas' blood, the bag was a mess, but only some of the drinks had been damaged, the rest were fine... The list went on, and he just knew that his partner would pick up on every single little oddity. He'd just have to go back to the barge and change, he decided, there was just no way he could find an excuse that would wash with the pilots.

It didn't take long for him to trudge along the canal, his coat covering his ruined clothes, and get changed into an identical outfit, deciding against a shower as he was certain his too perceptive by half partner would notice if his hair was damp on a perfectly dry night, just wiping his skin over and spraying deodorant liberally. Digging out another bag from under the sink, he wiped the bottles off and repacked them before heading back out to the party.

As soon as Duncan had left the flat, Duo turned to his friend with a broad smile, "So, what d'ya think, Q? He's cute, isn't he? And did you want some tea or something? I'm sure I can make that without destroying the kitchen. Well, probably."

"Tea's would be nice," Quatre smiled back, unable to resist the infectious grin, "And I have to agree, he's not ugly by any means."

Throwing the switch on the kettle, the Deathscythe pilot dug out some teabags and coffee, preparing the cups before perching on the edge of the worktop. "You do realise we're in the same boat now? You're obsessed with Tro, no, you really are, don't interrupt me, and I'm keen on Mac, and neither of 'em are letting us know if they're interested. This sucks."

"I agree, but I'm not going to push Trowa, if he's interested, really interested, then he'll let me know eventually."

"You're too damn patient, Q." The buzzer went on the kettle and quickly pouring the water, Duo made his way back to the lounge area, passing his friend the tea and taking a long sip of his own coffee. "It's been, what, almost three years since you met Tro on that battlefield, and you're still refusing to at least ask him out for a drink, let alone a date. You're best friends and you can't even talk to him 'bout the fact you like guys, for god's sake. And don't give me that bull 'bout the company, Tro's one of the most subtle and discrete people I know."

The blue eyes above the cup hardened in anger for a moment before looking down into the liquid, the softness returning, "I just don't want to lose his friendship, and if that means I never tell him, then that's what will happen. Anyway, I don't see you asking Duncan out."

"I've known the guy, what, a week? Week and a half? Half of which I spent on the hospital level. I know I move fast, but not that fast!"

The teasing and banter continued for a while, covering everything from how Winner Corporation was doing, to the latest music sensations and movies being released. When the security system beeped to alert them to Duncan's return Duo was filling the blonde in on Preventer and the mission that had landed him on the hospital floor.

"You took your time," the braided pilot said, glancing at the clock. "It's seven thirty already."

"I'm so sorry," the older man replied sarcastically, dumping the bag unceremoniously on the small lounge table. "Next time I'll run, shall I?" And not get caught up with challenges that end up with my clothes ruined. he added silently. "Talk about ungrateful."

"I think what Duo meant to say was thank you for getting the stuff, were there any problems?" Quatre jumped in before his friend's temper sparked, reaching over to rifle through the bag curiously, pulling out the beers before blinking in surprise at the next bottle. "Whisky?"

Duncan nodded, "I don't know if any of you like it, but it's a L4 25 year old that I find particularly pleasant. I hope you don't mind me picking some up?"

Quatre shook his head, unpacking the rest of the bottles and tossing the empty bag to Duo to recycle. "Not at all. I don't have it often, but it's not an unpleasant taste, and I believe the Scots on L4 have found a way to make some water that is an acceptable substitute to the old Earth water?"

"It took a while, but there's a man-made loch on the colony which the water's drawn from. I believe the water was deemed suitable about a hundred years ago."

Ignoring the developing discussion on the finer points of making whisky in space, Duo checked over the beer selection, choosing one that he recognised and popping the top off with a quick tap on the table. Sitting back, he watched the other two men debate the effects of gravity on distilling spirits, enjoying the opportunity to watch Mac.

Both Mac and Q had poured a shot of the golden liquid, the blonde accepting the glass despite his earlier words, and he watched as they both sipped the, in his opinion, foul stuff, Mac closing his eyes in pleasure, his face relaxed and elegant as he savoured the taste. He couldn't help running his eyes over his partner again, the tight jeans and t-shirt causing something else to tighten uncomfortably. Dammit, he'd never get through the party at this rate, Mac couldn't help being gorgeous, but, hell, the man knew precisely how to dress to set all his features off perfectly. His slightly curly hair, pulled up in a ponytail with a knotwork and leather band, spilled down that perfect back as he tilted his head back, the muscular neck spasming as he swallowed, causing Duo's arse to clench in arousal in time with the swallowing.

Get yourself under control, Maxwell, he told himself, and his anatomy, firmly, you hardly know the guy, at least wait 'til he gets drunk, if he gets drunk, before making a pass at him, at least then you've got the excuse that the alcohol did it. And then, of course, he'd have to cope with the morning after, when there was every chance the Scot would request a change of partner. Damn. Maybe he should request a partner change - it would mean he could chase him without the problems of working together in a team, but then there was less chance to socialise and talk with the guy.

Deciding he couldn't win, he took another swig of his beer, relieved when the buzzer on the security system distracted him before he started drooling.

Checking the security viewer, he grinned, letting Heero into the flat and opening the upper door for him. "Hey, Heero, you escaped from your electronic jungle then?"

The Wing pilot just looked at him sideways as he passed, a small smile in the cobalt eyes, "It's a lot easier to manage the system without you being there," he replied coolly, "It doesn't randomly generate dancing mobile suits on the screen, for example."

"Hey, that was only on a safe house system once, and I thought it was rather clever that it'd detect which of us logged on and display the right mech. Not my fault 'Fei got pissed off at the representation of his Nataku and smashed the screen."

"Maxwell, you turned Shenlong neon orange."

"And?"

Heero sighed, moving further into the flat and giving it a critical gaze. "Secure?" he asked, the closest the Japanese pilot was likely to get to complementing the decoration.

"Well, I was hoping you'd have a look at the entry system, it was a condition of Une letting Q stay here with me and Mac as bodyguards. I kinda volunteered you to do it." With a sheepish smile, he tilted his head at the console that they'd been working on earlier. "The internal code's too easy to get into for a start, and there's some notes on the piece of paper next to the computer that Q made."

"Am I allowed to get a drink first?"

Ignoring the Wing pilot's grumpiness, he pointed at the table where the drinks had been dumped, "There's sparkling water, beer, or if Mac and Q'll let it go for a second, whisky. I've got some pop in the fridge, but it's a little flat."

Heero nodded, and Duo wasn't surprised to see him pick up one of the bottles of sparkling water, twisting the top off and taking a long drink. The tousled haired man was bloody paranoid about losing his self-control, even compared to him, and he couldn't think of one single instance where the guy had ingested any substance that could affect him in any way willingly. He'd been tempted to spike a drink once or twice, but given how he'd react if someone did that to him, he'd decided against it. He might have a couple of drinks now and then, but he was always careful to monitor himself - letting Shinigami out the box accidentally would be a shitty way to end a party.

By the time the buzzer went again seconds later, Heero's fingers were already flying over the keyboard, only glancing up to let him know that both Wufei and Trowa had arrived and he was letting them in.

At that announcement, Quatre looked up brightly, his face turning to the doorway even as he stopped what he was saying mid-sentence, and Duo smirked as the blonde's eyes lit up as the taller man walked through the door, dressed in a casual green shirt and brown trousers. Behind him came Wufei in a blue vest top and oriental trousers, his black ponytail still slightly damp from a shower.

"Glad you could both make it," the braided pilot said, waving them both in and towards the seating. "Drinks are on the table if you want one and food should be arriving shortly, Q ordered it a while ago." Glancing over at the Arabian, he waved his hand in front of the distracted pilot, "Earth to Q? When will the pizza get here?"

Suddenly realising that he'd been staring at the Heavyarms pilot, the blonde almost jumped, blinking at Duo owlishly. "Oh, they said about 8.30, I hope that's alright?" His gaze swing back to the new guests and his smile turned shy, "Hi Trowa, it's good to see you again."

Wufei shook his head, obviously not surprised at being ignored by Quatre in favour of his colleague, and made himself comfortable on the sofa, grabbing a beer from the table and looking around the room. "It's not a bad place, Maxwell. It's secure I assume?"

"What is it with you guys and security? I'm not stupid you know. Yes, it's secure - and Heero's making it more so at the moment. Think you could comment on, oh, I don't know, the rooms? The layout? The furniture? You know, the house in general? At least Q made some nice comments on the furniture."

Quatre nodded enthusiastically, his eyes still shyly looking at Trowa, "Yes, Trowa, you really should see the bedroom," his blush deepened unconsciously, "there's genuine antique furniture in there."

Duo watched as his two friends disappeared behind the partition, shaking his head when his partner started to follow. Hoping the Scot could lip read, he mouthed "They've not seen each other in a while." He was rewarded with a pause, then a nod, and the taller man moving round to take a seat in the free armchair.

Searching for a topic, the braided pilot relaxed in his own chair, stroking the beer bottle with slender fingers. "So, 'Fei, how's life for you on Earth?"

Midway through the discussion on the differences between living on Earth and living on the Colonies, the pizza arrived at the same time Heero declared the security system fully secure, although he recommended that his friend talk to the letting agent about upgrading some of the sensors and locks to ensure the physical security was just as good. Placing the teetering tower of boxes on the kitchen work surface, Duo started digging around in them, pulling out a box before flopping back in his chair happily with his prize.

The scent of the food drew the other two pilots out of the bedroom, and he was only slightly surprised to see them holding hands for a moment, before breaking the connection as they entered the room properly. Glancing at his other guests, the American was pretty sure that the others had all noticed the same thing given the varying states of surprise between them, and there was even a hint of satisfaction in Heero's cobalt eyes that he knew matched his own as they watched the Heavyarms pilot bending his neck, almost shyly hiding behind his hair even as one visible green eye remained fixed on Quatre.

So, that cleared that little mystery up then. Well, at least the one about who Tro had been secretly interested in for months. It was probably a damn good thing it was Q, he decided, the blonde's own dark side could be bloody scary when let loose. He suspected it was a remnant from testing the ZERO system, but even so, he'd have hated to have to clean up the mess if the emerald eyed man had preferred someone else. He allowed himself a small smirk as he watched them walk in together, "Don't stop on our account."

"Oh! Sorry," If the blonde's face got any redder then he'd be able to warm the house all on his own, Duo thought with amusement as the other pilot picked a pizza box and rushed round to sit down on the sofa, next to Wufei, both of them moving over to make room for Trowa who'd calmly picked his own food, the quiet mask sliding back in place before he'd even sat down.

Realising his partner had been silent and still during the exchange, the braided man glanced over to see a speculative and almost sad expression on the man's open face, before Duncan lifted his glass, hiding his expression.

"I propose a toast, to Duo and his new home. This is an old Gaelic blessing that I think suits the occasion." The Scottish accent deepened as he spoke, "May you have walls for the wind, and a roof for the rain, and drinks beside the fire. Laughter to cheer you, And those you love near you, And all that your heart may desire." All of them scrambled for a glass to raise with Duncan's, the quiet clinking in the silence echoing in the moment's silence.

Suddenly, Quatre jumped up, grabbing his bag and rifling through it quickly. "I knew I forgot something!" Turning, Duo could see an large envelope in his hand, which the blonde held out to him with a smile. "I believe it's traditional to give a gift at a house warming party - I hope this is acceptable."

"Q, you didn't have to," the words faded on his lips as he pulled out a photograph. It was a simple scene, with himself sitting in Deathscythe Hell's hand, gazing at the moon the night before the mecha had been destroyed forever along with the upgraded Sandrock and Heavyarms. He knew his eyes were slightly damp as he traced the familiar lines of the black mobile suit with his gaze, but he didn't care, unable to look away from the picture.

"I hoped you'd like it. I wanted to get a group photograph of all five of us, but we were rarely all in the same place at the same time, so it wasn't possible. And I didn't want to have to fake it."

"No, no, this is perfect, Q. Thanks, pal." He managed to smile, pushing the sadness back and forcing himself to cheer up. Wishing 'Scythe was still around wouldn't bring his old friend back, and the photo was definitely a good way to remember the giant machine. "You didn't have to."

The other man shrugged, still smiling, "I've been trying to find a reason to give it you for some time. This seemed like the right time." Turning to Trowa with warm blue eyes he added, "I took one of you and Heavyarms too, Trowa, I brought it with me, if you want it."

"I'd like that, Quatre, thank you." The brunette dipped his head slowly, closing his eyes in acceptance as he replied in a quiet voice.

Managing to carefully put the photograph on the table, Duo found himself presented with another, much smaller envelope from the Wing pilot and blinked. Heero giving presents? Now that was a turn-up for the books. Resisting the urge to make a comment, he opened it to find a gift voucher for a local homeware store and grinned, OK, maybe not so much of a surprise.

"I thought this way you could pick out what you required. I was not familiar with what you already had, and this seemed like a sensible option."

Yep, definitely the same old Heero. Trowa also gave him a gift voucher, with a quiet murmur that he wanted Duo to get something that would be of use to him.

Another envelope from Wufei contained a small scroll with some elegantly drawn Chinese characters on, which the Asian pilot informed him meant 'Good Fortune House' in Chinese. To be honest, he couldn't really understand the difference between the shapes on the paper and the ones outside his favourite Chinese take-away, but he hoped that his friend would know the language he was brought up with and just nodded at the explanation, promising to find somewhere to hang it up soon - after he'd checked that it didn't say something like 'Idiot lives here'. He was pretty sure 'Fei hadn't paid him back for the last prank he'd pulled on him yet.

He was vaguely disappointed when Duncan didn't pull anything out, but then, he'd only known the guy a short time and he hadn't really expected anything from him anyway, getting him at the party and out of uniform was present enough. Turning a bright grin on his guests, he took another swig of his beer. "I'd give you the grand tour, but there's not really space, feel free to have a look around though. I kinda ran out of plans after the pizza and drinking tho', so not sure what you want to do next. I could get a game out or something? Though I'm not sure which box I put them in..."

"If you've got a pack of cards, how about poker?" Duncan suggested, pouring himself another small measure of whisky, "We don't have to play for money, just for fun."

He hadn't even had the chance to mention strip poker before several blue, green and black gazes were very pointedly turned on him and 'Fei had firmly clarified that they were not playing that version of the game. Spoil sports. It wasn't as if he always won, and he didn't mind getting naked in the spirit of the game, it wasn't his fault that 'Fei and Q seemed to have what he thought of as basic body issues whenever the idea had been suggested in the past.

The black haired pilot moved to sit on the floor to allow Heero to take the seat next to Quatre on the sofa and with the rules agreed on, and a battered deck dragged out from a box, they began playing in earnest. It only took a few rounds for Duo to realise that the Scot was a skilled player, easily bluffing his way through the first few hands. By the time the clock ticked around to midnight, they'd changed games several times, and the beer and pizza was a distant memory.

Eventually, Wufei called a halt, reminding them that at least some of them had to go to work in a few hours. With a resigned nod, Trowa gently nudged the smaller man who'd fallen asleep against his side,

"Hey, Quatre, it's time for me to go now."

"Don't wanna wake up," the blonde murmured, snuggling into Trowa for a moment, before blinking sleepy blue eyes open and sitting up abruptly with a slight blush when he saw everyone looking at him.

Holding back a laugh, Duo starting gathering the cards together, putting them back in the pack as the others started to organise their belongings. "You staying here, Q, or do you want to head to a hotel? Une kind of insisted that me and Mac stay with you, and there's only one bed and one sofa here. I don't mind sharing, but..." He tried to keep the hopeful note out of his voice, his friend already knew damn well that he'd be very happy to share a bed with the Scot. Even if it would be perfectly platonic, at least currently.

"You canna ask Mr Winner to sleep on a sofa," the object of his desire replied, his accent even stronger from the whisky. "If he wants to stay here, I'll take the sofa and you two can take the bed."

Damn it. "Not sure you'll fit on the sofa, Mac, but whatever."

"In which case, assuming that Duncan drove here," he waited for the nod before continuing, "we should go to a hotel. Duo's right, the sofa's too small for you, and I'd hate for him to have to sleep on the sofa in his own house."

Heero and Wufei were already moving out the door, waving their goodbyes and promising Quatre that they'd meet up with him before he had to go back to L4. The Heavyarms pilot lingered behind for a moment, before Duo sighed and gave the blonde a small shove towards their friend. "Go say goodnight, Q. We'll be in the bedroom."

Dragging Mac past the partition, he couldn't resist peeking round the corner, watching as the taller man wrapped his arms around the smaller, whispering in his ear. Suddenly he felt himself being pulled back, and he turned to see the Scot's eyes boring into him. "What?"

"You really are a nosy one, aren't you?"

"Hey, I've been waiting three years for these two to get their arses in gear," he hissed back, "I'm not missing this kiss, dammit."

"You're going to give them privacy for that kiss." Duncan insisted, pulling him back by his shoulder.

Wrenching himself away with a growl, the braided man peeked back round the corner, coming face to face with his slightly blushing friend, almost bumping into him as the front door quietly shut. "So? That was quick."

"So what, Duo?" the Winner CEO looked at the floor, the pink tinging his hairline, "We didn't kiss if that's what you're asking."

"You didn't?" Duo pouted, surprised.

"No, we didn't. People don't always kiss as soon as they start dating, you know. Now, shall we get going to that hotel, or did you want to sleep on the sofa after all?"
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'Til Death us do part