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Engrossed her newspaper and hot chocolate, Relena did not hear Heero enter the café. She didn't look up until she heard his low, gruff voice say from barely three feet away, "I dismantled the bell."
Relena choked on her hot chocolate. No sooner had her eyes filled with tears than Heero was pressing a paper napkin into her hand and saying, sounding slightly disconcerted, "Sorry. I should've said something."
Relena nodded and dabbed at her eyes and lips with the napkin. "Should've," she gasped when she had her breath back. "Would've been – nice." Looking up into his face she saw the contrition in his eyes and mouth.
"Um." She dropped her hands into her lap and twisted the napkin between her fingers. "You – wait, you what?"
"I dismantled the bell," Heero replied calmly. At her blank look, he elaborated: "The bell over the door. Of the café. I didn't want to call attention to myself." He began to unwind his scarf.
Relena could have informed him that in that busy café, with so many holiday shoppers seeking shelter from the biting winter wind, no one was likely to have noticed the tinkle of the bell above the door. It was Heero's good looks and obvious discomfort that were currently drawing attention.
"Those men," Heero muttered abruptly, leaning toward her over the table. "Two o'clock. Your bodyguards?"
"Y – yes," Relena stammered. She knew better than to turn her head.
"They're too obvious."
"So are you," she whispered back.
"I'm not your bodyguard."
"No," said Relena, "you're my—" She broke off because even after all this time she wasn't sure what to label Heero Yuy.
They dated. They went to movies occasionally and sometimes – like this afternoon – they met at a café or restaurant. More often they holed up in whatever hotel Relena happened to be staying in, rented movies, and ordered pizza or Japanese takeout.
They had sex. They had good sex – in hotel rooms, in limousines, once behind the bar during a cocktail party. (Heero never told her how he'd gotten rid of the bartender.) She suspected that Heero liked the frantic scrambling, the shutting out the rest of the world. She liked it, though she would have preferred a little stability.
Watching him now, she knew that he wasn't ready for the word boyfriend. He was scanning the café, taking in the faces, the fragments of conversation, all the coats and handbags that might hold weapons or recording devices, the windows and doors.
She jumped a little when he swung back to face her. His thick hair spilled over his forehead, shadowing his eyes. "I got you something."
"It's not Christmas yet," she said inanely.
"I know. I saw it and thought you could use it."
So, no perfume, no music, and probably no silk negligees. No teddy bears, either, which was something of a relief. For a few months at the beginning that was all he had given her. Bear after bear, as if she were a little girl. As if someone had told her that stuffed bears were the only appropriate gifts for pretty girls. (She wondered if Duo had told him that, though she wouldn't have put it past Dorothy either.)
She brightened when he drew a book from his coat pocket, but it turned out to be a survival guide of sorts.
"Look," said Heero, "this is pretty good, but the author makes some mistakes. This, for example." He flipped to a page he'd marked. "There's a better way to break someone's grip if he's got you from behind like that. We'll go over it later. What?"
He'd glanced up and seen the look in her eyes, of pain and love and frustration.
He licked his lips. "I just want you to be safe. I'd hate it if anything happened to you."
"I know." Forcing herself to smile she pushed her hot chocolate toward him. "Have some. I can't drink all of it and it's actually really good. And it's not poisoned. I checked – just like you showed me."
She was joking, but the look he gave her was one of mingled relief and pride. Her heart clenched.
We're becoming something, but I don't know what it is. We're not there yet. Sometimes I think we're not even close.
Heero wrapped his long fingers around the mug of hot chocolate and brought it tentatively to his lips. His eyelids drooped as he sipped, and Relena found her gaze roving between the long sweep of his lashes and the wind-chapped knuckles. Color rose in his cheeks as he drank and, watching him, Relena felt warmth flutter in her belly.
I can give you time, she thought. All the time you need. That's my gift to you.
10/25/05