Nutter Butters
By Skandranon
The phone rang. It was only his grogginess that had him picking up the receiver instead of instinctively reducing it to shrapnel.
"Erro…?"
-Duo. I need information.-
Damn that man and his lack of sensibility and it was four in the fucking morning. If he'd been any more awake, he would've mustered up a good mean insult and hung up. As it was, he mumbled "Yeerha?"
-If a person wins at a competition and they are relieved, what does it mean?-
Beside him, a warm lean body twisted in its sleep and dug fingernails into his hair. "Err… means they's relieved, s'pose."
-But the expected emotions are joy or pride. Why relief?-
He yawned with his tongue sticking out and slunk out a hand to shift the alarm clock, so that the light of the dial faced away from him. "Couldya give me s'more info on the whatsit?"
-It was a previously unattempted competition, of athletic nature. The person was expected to exhibit arrogance or cynicism if they won, but instead they showed an expression I have categorized as relief.-
"Mn."
"Is that Heero?" The warm body next to him growled.
He palmed the speaker. "Yeh."
"Tell him it's four in the fucking morning."
And Heero would say 'Yes, answer my question already', the bastard.
Half a year ago, Heero Yuy, Preventer, hero, He-Who-Flies-Big-One-Wing, had finally gotten the clue that when it came to social niceties, he was a polar bear among penguins. People got eaten. Not pretty. Since social niceties were a primary fact of ex-war life, the logical course was to train, study, and gather information. Thus, Duo had found himself labeled as an informant, and got called up whenever Heero was stumped on the bizarre nature of civilians in their natural habitat.
Though, usually he had enough courtesy to call during sane hours. Or rather, after the nth midnight call, Duo had threatened to 1. refuse to serve as informant 2. give out Une's cell number on a dating site 3. commit seppuku 4. invent a time machine and use it to find Heero's grandmother and fuck her seven ways to Sunday and then steal her purse, unless Heero 1. only called during sunlight hours unless it was really important 2. bought Duo nutter butters.
Nutter butters were, after all, sacred food of the God of Death. Though Heero thought rules 1. and 2. linked and only bought some if he called late. So the options were to stay on the phone and explain to the child warrior why the other Preventers were picking on him, and get nutter butters, or hang up and get some sleep.
Mm, nutter butters.
He rolled his shoulder and discovered his arm was asleep. He whapped it on the pillow until it regained some feeling, and focused on switching into Heero-Speak. "Relief usually comes when a worrying possible situation doesn't happen. In this situation, losing the competition. The person was worried they'd lose."
-Why worried?-
"Were you in the competition?"
-Yes.-
Long pause for the brain to absorb that. "Somebody beat you at something?"
Another pause, long and awkward. -…Yes.-
Heheh. Excellent teasing fodder to save for later. This was worth sitting up for. "They'ere probably worried about looking bad to you."
-Why?-
"It was Wufei, right?"
-…Yes.-
Of course. Heero's partner was the reason he called, at least half the time. 'Duo, why is Wufei yelling at me? Make him stoooop.' What made those two think they could survive each other? Not just partnering, they shared an apartment! To save money, they insisted. Duo would think otherwise, except he had the inside track and knew Wufei got uncomfortable if Heero even breathed on him, and Heero had no clue yet why all his instincts and Importance Scales, as he called them, insisted he be near Wufei as often as possible.
See, Heero had these scales. He'd told Duo about them once when the informant insisted he needed to know everything or he couldn't tell Heero why the Ambassador's wife was stalking him. It was a thinking exercise Heero used to get in touch with his inner self, or 'that thing', as he always said with frustration. The thing that made it so hard to shoot little girls, that thing. He trusted its directions implicitly, but it drove him nuts that the impulses it sent him were always jumbled and made no logical sense. How was he supposed to follow an inner voice that said 'Go left!' and 'Go right!' at the same time? Especially when there was no left? So he'd created the Importance Scales.
What he did was, he'd line the scale up in his mind. On the ride side he'd set up all these big stones, labeled things like Total Pacifism, Efficiency, and The Mission. The latter was always the biggest stone. On the left, he'd drop whatever impulse he was feeling, a tiny little stone, smaller than a pebble, small as a grain. But sometimes the tiny grain was immensely heavy, and tipped the scales. Then he'd go do whatever the impulse had told him to, because it was obviously important.
He'd grudgingly told Duo about the first time he'd put the tiny Be Near Wufei As Often As Possible grain on the scale and how it had shot down so fast it launched all the other rocks off the other side and into an imaginary puddle that had been inexplicably nearby.
Duo had decided to let Heero figure out that one on his own, and had a betting pool set up for how long it would take. It was up to five hundred dollars and a gameboy.
"What sort of competition was it?"
-A speed race. 600 yards.-
"Just you two?"
-No, all available Preventers. We had previously not considered speed running when providing exercise and training. To begin the new training, we needed to evaluate the current abilities of all agents. Wufei came in first-
"Woo, go little China man. You were second?"
-Hai.- Duh.
"You know how Fei gets. He's always trying to match you or beat you. That damned perfectionism of his."
-Hai. But it's not in his nature to worry.-
"S'he been stressed out lately? Snarling a lot, heaping on the cruel snipes?"
-Not exactly. He's been… tense. Nervous?- Heero hesitated on the word, as if he only knew it from a dictionary. –Sullen. Morose. Not snarling. His shoulders go back and down when I enter the room, his shoulders tense, but he's said almost nothing to me, and nothing insulting.-
"Have any females been chatting him up lately?"
-Not that I know of.-
"You been naked around him lately? Or half naked and soaking wet?"
Silence as Heero checked his memory. –No.- He said it calmly.
Yeah, was looking like Hilde's bet of 40 years would be the winner. "You know of any habits/routines that have changed recently?"
-He's on paper duty, an assignment that should take two weeks.-
"Ah, and our China man hates the paper demons. Weird he's not sniping you, though. Anything else change?"
-No. Sally's on injury leave, broken ankle. We bought a new stove. Nothing else.-
"What's the assignment?"
The silence was pointed and scorning. –Classified.- You should know that.
"Right right, no talky. Well, are you both working on it?"
-No, I am in charge of the new training program.-
"Ah. The same program in which a race made you confused enough to call me at… four fucking fifteen in the morning you sick prick. Nutter butters, lots of 'em."
-Hai.-
Trowa slipped an arm around him and made a snatch for the phone. Duo yanked it back and covered the speaker. "What?"
"Let me talk to him."
"Hell no, we're in your bet time period. You'll tip him off."
"It would take a jackhammer, which I don't have. Gimme the phone."
"You tip him and you're disqualified," Duo growled, and passed over the receiver.
"Heero? Yes, Trowa. Wufei was acting strange before the race? Ah. For how long? It's not that, then. That's the result, not the cause. What about his assignment is not classified?"
Duo slouched back on the pillows to wait, and remembered how tired he was. And his lover was rubbing nice nummy circles on his hip. He forcibly blinked his eyes open as they got heavier.
"Mmn. What was the first time you noticed this new behavior? Eh? No, of course. Ah, alright."
He slipped further under the cover, and rediscovered how snugly warm it was from his body heat. The phantom taste of nutter butters teased him. They were especially delicious if you baked them a little, then put some honey on top, just a drop.
"Hn. That's called a blowjob."
Duo was up and diving for the phone. Trowa blocked him. "Wha? Who to the what now?!"
Trowa casually twisted him around and tangled him up in blankets. "No, it's a unigender object, if properly used. Hm. Nn. I'm not surprised, but I wouldn't rank Relena as an expert of sex toys."
"Gimme the phone! Trowaa! No fair! Mmph!" A pillow pressed into his face.
"Have you discussed this with him since then? Ehn. Uhn. No, I think he was joking. Mhn. I wouldn't suggest it; you don't have anywhere to keep a goat."
Duo kicked and thrashed, and Trowa lay across him to keep him down.
"So what did he do then? Mm. The whole banana?"
Duo whimpered and wriggled towards the far end of the bed, hoping to slip out of his evil lover's clutches.
"Yes, Sprite and conditioner should get the stain out. No, it's not required to swallow on the first try. Eh. Did you lay down towels? Oh, relax, it washes right off latex."
Hah, he had turned around and could almost see an escape!
"Well, usually the prostate is for the male organs, but it can be useful for that, yes."
Duo hooked the phone cord and yanked, and the receiver smacked him in the forehead. He grabbed it before his partner could retaliate.
It was a dial tone.
"He remembered why Wufei was upset and had to go suddenly," Trowa smirked.
Duo tackled him and bit his ankle savagely. "You brute. When?"
"Sometime before blowjob."
"Well, what did he remember?"
"Didn't say."
"I hate you. Sick, twisted, evil, maniacal… clown!"
Trowa calmly hung up the phone and dragged his lover down into warm comfort. "Sleep now."
The phone rang.
Duo groaned and picked it up. "Ello!"
-Duo. Forgot to ask some things. Not related to emotions. Different subject.-
"Shoot."
-What is it called when oral sex is performed on a phallus?-
He tossed the phone to Trowa. "It's for you."