Close Your Eyes: Part 2

Heero snuck away from his class as they made their way down to the football field to join the rest of the school. Fire drills were always a disaster; intended to teach control in a time of crisis, they were never taken seriously and always lasted longer than expected as the teachers forced everyone in rows of silent single file lines. On a good day, the principle would come over the loud speaker on the fields in a frenzy, shouting at they students what immature failures they were and how disappointed and embarrassed he was. 
         Off to the right of the exhibition and down a slight hill was the peaceful, soggy baseball field which a layer of fog clung to in the yellow light. Dev was already there, Heero wondered if he had gone to class at all. They joked about the stupidity of their classmates while they smoked, waiting for the pot to work down their defensives.
         “I’d like to believe that we can still be comfortable around each other without being high.”
         Dev frowned, offended. “Why the fuck wouldn’t we be!?”
         He choked on a hit, trying not to laugh. “Sorry, touchy bastard.”
         He waited patiently as Dev stared off, thinking of what to say or if he could say it at all.
         “We’ve been friends for a while… do you think you know me, Heero?”
         He considered. “I guess… but you haven’t wanted me to.”
         “Yeah well… if you really did you probably wouldn’t want to anymore.”
         Heero snorted at the outrageousness of the thought and tried not to let his frustration sound in his voice.
         “Quit feeling sorry for yourself, Maxwell, and stop being paranoid. I’m not gunna abandon you.”
         Dev grabbed the joint from Heero before pushing him away so roughly that he almost feel off the bleacher.
         “I’m not being paranoid and I’m not fucking feeling sorry for myself, damnit! I’m being realistic. You don’t know, Heero. You don’t know shit.”
         He sat back up, looking up at his friend warily. “Alright, Dev, I’m sorry. Sit down.”
         “Don’t fucking condescend to me, damnit.”
         “…I’m not.”
         Dev would have kept arguing but he was relighting the joint that had gone out.
         “Tell me.” 
         “You’re not the only one who’s had a shitty life, you know?”
         “I don’t claim to be.”
         “But you always walk around all dark and angry like no one else can understand your tortured soul. Well light a candle for your fucking bleeding heart, I suffer too, but I don’t go around hating everyone.”
         He took the last hit and started talking suddenly, scared that if he paused, he’d loose his nerve.
         “I don’t remember everything… just the worst of it. My mother used to leave me and my brother at different houses for days at a time. She eventually started taken us to this Portuguese woman’s place. Funny; I cant remember her name but, her boyfriend was Keith. We were ignored but it was alright at first, I guess.
         “The first incident I can remember is Keith coming out of the bedroom while I was in the hall. He was naked… he asked me if I wanted to touch his dick and I ran away. The next time my mother had us spend the night I was terrified… with good fucking reason.”
         Heero noticed Dev’s hands shaking as he lit a cig. He wouldn’t look him in the eyes.
         “Justin couldn’t have been older than 2 or 3. The sick bastards apparently thought they’d really get off if they forced us to watch them fuck. So they’d locked us in their bedroom with them every time my mom would ‘go out of town.’ I tried to tell her about it but she smacked me around for lying. Of course it only got worse. I remember Keith telling me to touch my babysitter, explaining what I was to do in this real nice voice. I think Justin escaped a lot of it because he was so young; they’d just make him watch.”
         His voice was shaking and Heero could feel his rage and understood it.
         “Then the bitch started...”
         But Dev couldn’t say what she started doing and he gave up telling that part of the story. He felt nauseous.
         “You never told me you have a brother.”
         It sounded lame but it was all Heero could think to say.
         Dev’s lips twisted into a smile, “I don’t. He’s dead.”
         The calmness of his voice was unnerving.
         “How?”
         “My mother was inside with the molesters, smoking crack or whatever and me and Justin were out back. I was playing and realized I didn’t hear him behind me. I turn around and there’s my baby brother, floating face down in a foot of water in an inflatable pool. I remember banging on the sliding glass door, screaming, ‘Justin’s dead!’ But they ignored me, it was the next door neighbor who must have come over to shut me up and saw what happened. When my mom finally came outside she stood there in shock for a minute, trying to think of how she’d get out of it. Then her eyes landed on me and she fucking attacked me, choking me and screaming, ‘it’s your fault, why we’re you watching him’ blah, blah, blah. That’s when the state took me away. My mom has tried to contact me a few times but I’ve ignored her. It’s been years… hopefully she’s dead.”
         Dev’s face sunk to his knees and Heero put his hand on his shoulder.
         “I love you, Devlin… and Justin’s death wasn’t your fault.”
         Dev took a deep breath and looked into his Heero’s face, “Yeah… I know.”

         The following Saturday, Heero lied to his father, saying he had to go to a classmates house for a school project. He had one hour.
         The timing was even better than he’d hoped for; Angela walked out of Alto’s 5 minutes after he got off the bus. He caught her as she walked quickly to her car to get out of the cold. She spun around when he called her name and looked around when she saw who was calling, not quite believing the situation.
         “I haven’t seen Dev.”
         “I’m not looking for Dev. Can I talk to you for a second?”
         He looked freezing and stupid in his thin windbreaker.
         “Here?”
         “Yeah.”
         She considered for a moment, thinking what pleasure she’d get out of telling him to fuck off and striding away, balanced expertly on her heals. But she sighed.
         “Lets go in my car at least.”
         They walked around the corner to her Jetta and she started the engine.
         “Don’t you boys own coats?”
         Heero shivered, “I forgot it.”
         They sat in silence until the car warmed up and she blasted the heat until it was comfortable. Her XM radio played some indi chick rock in the background.
         “So what’s up?”
         For all of his hesitation, Heero hadn’t planned a thing to say. He’d come because he wanted to apologize but mostly because he was worried about Dev and didn’t have anyone else to talk to about it.
         “I… came to apologize.”
         Angela raised her eyebrows, “so do it.”
         He rubbed the back of his neck. She was being painfully unapproachable.
         “I didn’t mean to be such an ass the other day.”
         “…that’s it?”
         He panicked, she could see his hand lifting to the handle but he tired once more.
         “I cant explain it. It was just a bad morning… I’m sorry.”
         “So what now? Do I say, ‘you’re forgiven’?”
         Heero smirked, “I don’t give a damn if you forgive me or not.”
         They laughed together, not sure why it was funny and not insulting. But it broke the tension too suddenly and when the humor died down they were still left sitting very close in a warm car.
         “Dev put you up to this?”
         He stared at her chest as she took her jacket off and laid it on the back seat.
         “Encouraged me, anyway.”
         “Well at least you tired. I’ve got to go to class, can I give you a ride somewhere?”
         He’d been prepared to talk about Dev, even planned out the next sentence but it would be misplaced now and he couldn’t force himself to say it.
         “Sure.” 
         The urge to be near her bothered him. It was too strong to refuse so he let her drive him a few blocks away from his house.
         He didn’t want to get out of the car. He wanted to kiss her.
         Angela didn’t have the faintest suspicion about any of this because as soon as she stopped, he thanked her and jumped out before he could do or say something stupid.


Chapter 3

         At 9 years old, Dev was assigned to his 2nd foster home after being expelled from the first for reasons never explained. Sure, he was a pain in the ass but he didn’t think he was that bad. He’d been at the new home for 2 weeks and was being very… very carefully watched. His siblings were big brother named Mike (who is doing most of the watching) and little sister named Lilly who beautifully oblivious to everything. She reminded Dev of the girl on Swiss Mist hot chocolate boxes, the kind of girl that didn’t deserve to be there. He tried not to think of her uncertain, fast-approaching future. He prayed to a god he didn’t believe in that her innocence not be lost too soon, maybe god still existed for her.
         Dev had limited information on his siblings stories, he filled in the blanks himself. Lilly wasn’t a foster child, she’d been adopted by the Martins after her mother gave her up for adoption when she was born. He knew she’d been held back 2 grades, but she wasn’t stupid. She’ll get out, beat the odds… she wanted to be a veterinarian.
         Mike had been living with the Martins for several years but no one ever considered his adoption. His father was in jail for killing his mother and even though he was separated form them at an young age, their problems had plenty of time to rub off on him. Mike is what the psychiatrist called a disturbed youth. He was diagnosed bipolar and with ADHD, which he didn’t have but knew how to lie well enough to get a prescription to Ritalin. Weak speed that he didn’t pay for and sold to underclassmen, especially around final exam week.
         Mike was not an altogether bad looking guy but he was dirty and wore the same 4 or 5 T-shirts everyday. He had acne and stringy overgrown hair which he was comfortable to let hang over his eyes. He had no friends and bad grades and crazy parents… so Dev was an easy target.
         After Dev’s last foster home didn’t work out, he was warned by several people who had equal control over his life that if he wasn’t careful, if he kept getting re-placed, he’d end up in juvenile detention. So in the middle of week one of living with the Martins’, when Mike tripped over Dev’s shoes in the hall and hit him for it, Dev apologized and kept quite. Mike hadn’t really hit him that hard anyway. At the end of week one when Mike retaliated again because the dishes that Dev washed were still dirty.
         Dev was in a much severer amount of pain and decided to tell someone. But before he got a chance, Mike pulled out a pocket knife and made it very clear what would happen if ‘anyone sees that bruise on your ribcage or this one.’ And he hit Dev again, just to be sure.
         So for the beginning of week 2, Dev successfully stayed out of Mike’s way and suffered only a minimal amount of abuse… until Friday night when mom and dad went out to dinner and left big brother in charge.
Dev knew immediately something was wrong when Mike insisted that they eat at the dinner table.
         He’s more likely to let me starve than to eat in the same room with me.
         Lilly talked on about her simple little 3rd grade life; Dev wanted to get up and run. Mike kept watching him but didn’t say a word.
         He washed everyone’s dishes with the precision of a heath inspector, using water so hot his hands were red and sore by the time he was done. Then he went into his little room and wrapped himself up in his Spiderman comforter which was really a Spiderman sleeping bag. Dev watched his door in the dark, waiting for it to be bashed open. By 10:30 the house was quite and his panic died down enough that he drifted into a half sleep.
         A single creek of footsteps on the wooden floor woke him immediately. He strained to listen, thinking he’d imagined it, it was just the house shifting but he heard the distinct sound of a unbent hanger poking into his door knob and the lock popped open. A shiny steak knife replaced the pocket knife from before and he wondered distantly if the utensil he had just cleaned would be the one to kill him. Mike locked the door behind him and before Dev could yell, the blade slashed across his arm. Dev grabbed the wound and scurried away, backing against the wall. Their faces almost touching, Mike said, with his prop against Dev’s neck, “If you make a sound I’ll fucking kill you.”
         Then he moved away and Dev could only see little strips of him, illuminated through the blinds by the streetlight outside. He could feel the blood pooling in his hand and seeping between his fingers; he held is arm up and squeezed it tighter.
         “Get naked.”
         Dev laughed, “What!”
         Mike hit him hard enough in the temple that Dev felt his head rolling around on his shoulders and his vision speckled white.
         “Do it!”
         Dev was shaking uncontrollably as he clumsily undressed. His arm started to sting and little swipes and drops of blood were ruining everything.
         His pride never deflated, “keep it down Mikey or our innocent little sister might hear.”
         Mike pushed him down and Dev’s head bumped off the wall, “fuck!”
         “Shut up!”
         Devlin never understood what happened next, or told anyone about it.
         He was sitting with his legs against his chest but Mike pulled him by the ankles until he was on his back.
         “What the fuck are you doing!” His voice was trembling so badly he could hardly understand himself.
         Mike stayed dressed and pulled the sleeping bag over his head before crawling between Dev’s keens. Dev wondered if all childhoods are like this or if he’s just lucky.
         He fought against enjoying it; if he did what would that make him? Mike grabbed blindly for Dev’s arm and yanked it down, licking the blood from his fingers. Dev was so shocked he pulled the blanket away to watch, the sin of his arousal fading into the background. How could someone so evil behave so tenderly?
         Why does he hit me if he wants to do…this?!
         He laid back down and closed his eyes.
         Might as well enjoy it.
         When it was over, Dev laid there taking deep breaths, disgusted and satisfied and confused and content. He looked up to Mike, to thank him for the favor, he thought, but Mike just hit him, harder than the other times. Dev cried out when the fist connected with his face and he heard Lilly’s bedroom door open as Mike left.
         “What was that?”
         “Nothing. Go back to sleep,” Mike said. 
         Their lives went on like that until Mike turned 18. Dev snuck out as often as possible until he knew it was safe to return. The bruises were hard to hide but easy to lie about. Dev figured no one would believe the truth anyway and he was threatened and beat into submissiveness. Eventually, Mike knew how to hit him not to leave a mark. There wasn’t a whole lot he could do when the parents were home but Dev couldn’t avoid him forever. After a few months, Mike stopped hitting him as much and gave him Ritalin occasionally. When he came into Dev’s room and there was no way to stop him, Dev didn’t bother fighting it, not after a while. Mike never stopped bringing a knife with him. 

         In an ulterior universe at the same time, Heero sat in the guidance counselor’s office a month after his mother’s funeral.
         “What was it like to watch your mother die, Heero?”
         Mrs. Kiser- the grad school student who was writing her final dissertation on her interactions with the distant, angry 9 year old. For 3 sessions she’d steadily been working at him to speak about his ‘recent tragedy.’ She always asked him if he minded being recorded.
         No, he didn’t care about being recorded. He didn’t care about anything.
         He didn’t mind being studied, in fact he rather enjoyed the attention. He didn’t mind telling her the truth, especially when it scared her to hear such bleak opinions from a forth grader.
         He was answering her first question, “What do you think?”
         She contemplated this defensive remark, wrote something down and then looked at him through her big square frames with her fist under her chin.
         “I think it must have been very frightening.”
         “Yeah.”
         “I think you must be very sad.”
         Heero’d seen movies, she wasn’t supposed to tell him how he felt, was she? He didn’t say anything, just stared at her with his black eyes.
         She had to look away.
         How can this kid be intimidating me?
         “What I’m trying to say is that I understand how you must be feeling and I’m sure it would benefit you to talk about it.”
         He wanted to take that overly sharp pencil in her hand and shove it into her neck. He wanted to kill her mother, then see how much she smiles.
         “No… you don’t have any fucking idea how I’m feeling, Deborah.”
         “Why don’t you enlighten me?”
         She was angry, he could hear it in her unsteady voice but she still had to put on a front for the tape recorder. 
         He looked away, crossed his arms over his chest.
         “Let’s talk about something else today, then. You got in a fight yesterday on the bus. Is that were those bruises are from?”
         Yes, he had gotten into a fight but the kid hadn’t touched him. His swollen lip and cheek had been afflicted by someone much older, much stronger.
         Heero was reflecting on the events of the night before at home, he hadn’t heard Mrs. Kiser’s next question.
         “Heero? How is the rest of your family… adjusting?”
         “Fine.”
         Did she think he was stupid?
         She was growing impatient, he was increasingly remote each time she saw him. She was trying to demonstrate the significant positive effects that therapy could have on children exposed to traumatic situations. Heero Ikoda needed to come out of this a happy, normal child but if he wouldn’t talk than the entire study was worthless.
         “Tell me Heero, what happened on the bus yesterday?”
         She knew damn well what happened from the bus drivers police report.
         Heero shut down, he wasn’t even looking at her anymore.
         “You do know that the only reason you weren’t expelled from this school completely was because of our little meetings don’t you, Heero?”
         He wasn’t sure whether to believe her even though it turned out to be true. Not because she had done him a favor but because she didn’t want to have to start over again with another child. Plus she wanted to break through to Heero for her own self-esteem; to prove that her 6 years of medical school weren’t just a misdirected dream.
         “You think I care about being expelled from this hellhole?”
         Her eyes narrowed, “your father might care.”
         He had enough.
         Heero grabbed the little black tape recorder and pitched it at the wall before standing up and pushing his arm across her desk, everything went flying. He was so pleased with the effect that he shoved her computer monitor onto the ground and she screamed, thinking it might land on her lap. It hit the carpet with a thud and the display didn’t even turn off. Heero shrugged, he was hoping it would burst into an electrical explosion that burned the whole school down.
         Mrs. Kiser was staying very still and Heero laughed cynically before leaving.
         After that, he was expelled.
         The problem with telling all the cops and teachers and parents about the incident with Joey Ricket on the bus was that he hardly remembered it. What was said? What set him off?
         He couldn’t remember.

         At his new school he was feared for his reputation but respected for doing something everyone else had only dreamed of. He had only acquaintances and was thought to be a little crazy since naturally the details became somewhat skewed and half of his class weren’t sure that he hadn’t killed a woman. Heero resented them all for alienating him; he didn’t want to be the kid everyone feared.
         In high school he learned how to suppress his rage enough to become socially accepted but was so used to being avoided by girls that he never thought to pursue them. He wasn’t too embarrassed to admit that he was still a virgin. It was certainly not because he lacked offers but because of his lifelong low tolerance for stupidity. This was instantly a problem for him when he began to notice his interest in the softer sex, since the only thing stupider than a lust filled 16 year old boy, it is a 16 year old girl.
         He would listen as Dev and their friends sat around in their parents basements, drinking peach schnapps mixed with Kool Aid from plastic bottles and talking about who gave the best head but was too annoying to be around if she didn’t have her mouth full.
         Ha, ha!
         This is when he realized he had no urge to be intimate with an inexperienced, awkward little girl.
         He wanted a woman; passionate and sophisticated, who’d teach him how to put his body to good use- to satisfy and be satisfied. He was willing to wait until one came along.


Chapter 6
         Dev because distant towards his best friend after divulging into his past and Heero hated to admit how much he missed him. Christmas Eve past by for him like any other Tuesday ever did. He would have enjoyed going out to get Chinese with Dev as was tradition, but he knew Angela would be there so he watched the Holiday specials and went to sleep early. The next night he sat on his bed staring at the wall, too distracted to read the book in his hand. He looked around the empty room realizing what a bleak attitude it nurtured. Not one personal item could be seen, nothing that held any childhood memory or unique decoration. It looked like a cheep hotel room besides the expensive electronic equipment which Heero always feared his father would destroy someday when the situation reached it’s breaking point. The extent of his personalization was a picture on the nightstand of his mother. It was a close up of her face as she lay on her stomach at some beach; her light hair in sea water covered spirals, her eyes -his eyes, so dark blue they were often mistaken for black- sparkling against her tan skin. Heero wondered who she was smiling at and couldn’t seem to remember ever being as happy as she looked in that faded photo.
         Poor me.
         His door swung opened abruptly. He sat up straight and looked his father in the eye, trying to think of what he had done wrong recently.
Father held out the cordless phone and Heero took it tentatively like it might explode in his hand.
         “Hello?”
         Father stayed in the doorway, rudely curious.
         “Hi there, handsome.”
         A girl?
         “Who’s this?”
         “Guess.”
         There was a shuffling and then a different voice.
         “Heero, it’s Max.”
         He waited for an explanation.
         “I’m at Angela’s. We’re having a swell old time. You should come over. Her friend is here. She’s a babe.”
         Two different giggles in the background. He’d given Angela the most sincere apology he could muster up but he didn’t think that implied he wanted an invitation to her apartment.
         “Uhh. I don’t think I can.”
         “Ask, you’re old man will probably be thrilled at the prospect of his pride and joy carrying on the family seed.”
         “Hold on.”
         Heero laid the phone down and stood up.
         “Who is that?”
         “My friend Angela. She wants to see a movie tonight. May I barrow the car?”
         Father frowned. “It’s late. You’ve got school tomorrow.”
         “No, Sir... it’s Christmas break.”
         “You’ve been off two days already!”
         “For a whole week, sir...”
         Father nodded thoughtfully and Heero knew he was devising a list of chores for him to do in the off time.
         “What are you’re grades?”
         “Straight A’s.” He couldn’t help but sound proud.
         “Who else will you see besides the girl?”
         Heero didn’t falter, his father detested Devlin.
         “No one, Sir. It’s a date.”
         That sealed it.
         “I want to meet her. Then you may go.”
         And with that Heero was alone with the phone.
         “Hello?”
         Angela said, “do you always talk to your father like a Marine?”
         He smiled softly, he liked the way her voice sounded so close to his ear. “Yes.”
         She had heard the whole conversation. “So what should I wear?”
         He thought it over. “Something conservative and expensive.”

         Angela lived alone in a surprisingly nice apartment complex and as he took the elevator to her floor, Heero comprehended her families wealth for the first time. Dev had told him some story of her parents sending her off to design school on the east coast and now Heero pictured her mansion on the other side of the country; white and set against the ocean with manicured lawns, a private gate and tennis courts.
         He could hear her laughing inside.
         Angela answered her door in a velvet burgundy dress over dark green stockings. She wore proper black heals that strapped around her ankle and her hair was in a high ponytail that made her look excessively innocent.
         Heero stormed inside to find Devlin because no immaculately put together outfit was going to hide that smell.
         “Maxwell! Are you fucking insane? It reeks like pot in here.”
         Angela put her hand on his arm. It was the most contact they had ever been in. She was obviously high.
         Angela gets high?
         “It’s alright. I showered and my clothes don’t smell. Check.”
         She stood on her toes and offered him her shoulder, he leaned down and pressed his nose against the soft fabric.
         Mistake.
         Damn she smells good.
         Devlin still hadn’t shown himself.
         “We’ll be back.” Angela called, grabbing her pea coat from the closet.
         Her friend called that she had to go home but Angela hardly heard.
         She paused with Heero in the hallway.
         “Do I look okay?”
         He smiled in spite of himself, “you look like an elf.”
         Heero had never seen her in anything but work clothes. He knew Dev had gone out with her several times but he had refused when they invited him along. Why he’d accepted tonight, he didn’t not know but he was again instantly aware of how much he enjoyed being alone with her. He noticed how she looked at him. Shy admiration mixed with curiosity. He let himself bask in it for now even though he felt a twinge of guilt. She blushed under his eyes and he looked away quickly. 

         In the car, Heero cleared his throat, wondering why he felt the need to say something now, when after seeing her for weeks with Dev at Alto’s he hadn’t spoken a whole sentence. 
         “Thanks for doing this.”
         “No big deal.”
         He gripped the wheel. “It is a big deal. I’ve never brought home a girl to my father in my life.”
         That fact sent an inexplicable surge of happiness go through her.
         “Why?”
         “I’m sure you’ve heard stories from Devlin. He’s not the easiest man to get along with.”
         Oh, how she wanted to comfort him. They glanced at each other.
         “He told me what happened that morning we first met.”
         “…Yeah.”
         Angela knew when they were almost there because she felt the tension and anxiety building, choking the life out of him.
         “How should I be?”
         He smirked. “The way you always are.”
         Heero would not have agreed to bring her there if he had any doubt of the impression she would make. She reminded him of his mother.
         They pulled up in front of his house and he opened the car door for her.
         “Come on.”
         He took her hand and put it under his bicep, a strange reflex that he didn’t even notice.
         She told herself to think nothing of it, they were just putting on a show.
         He looks skinny under all those clothes but his arm is like a rock! OK, calm down.
         Heero unlocked the door and let her in first. Why was she so scared?
         “Don’t be nervous.” He whispered.
         He could hear his sisters music in her room. He hadn’t seen her in weeks, it felt like.
         “Dad?”
         Father emerged from the kitchen and Angela tried not to lower her eyes. Or was that showing disrespect? She should look away. He crossed his arms over his chest, his harsh eyes scrutinizing her. Heero stayed very close to her and didn’t give the impression that he wanted her to let go of his arm so she indulged in the contact, feeling warmly protected and safe.
         He’s taller than I thought too.
         “Dad, this is Angela. Angela this is my father.”
         She smiled modestly and curtsied.
         How perfect.
         “How are your parents, Angela.”
         He didn’t give a damn, he just wanted to hear her speak, perhaps slip a few vulgar words in by mistake.
         “Oh just fine, Sir. Father is away on business and Mother is at home.”
         “What business is that?” He asked, as though she had already said it and he hadn’t been listening.
         “He is in the medical field, Sir, learning a new procedure in Washington.”
          Heero knew she didn’t realize how tightly she was gripping his arm.
         “We have to go now, Father. We’ll be late.”
         When they stopped at a red light, Heero unbuttoned his shirt immediately and smiled at her.
         “Are movie theaters even opened on Christmas?”
         His smile was refreshing, the thought of her being responsible for it thrilled her. 
         “I’d bet not.”
         When they got out of the car, Angela stopped him before going inside.
         “Heero, wait.”
         She looked up at him seriously, “take it however you want but, if you ever need a place to stay… to get away from him, you can come here. And I’m not just saying that to be polite.”
         She didn’t know how he’d take it. Would he think she’s was implying that he wasn’t strong enough to ride it out, or that she was hitting on him. Would he ever let his guard down enough to let someone help him? She didn’t know, it didn’t matter. She needed to say it.
         “I mean it.”
         Dev was waiting outside for them, leaning against the building smoking. It was just beginning to snow.
         “Nice jacket, Maxwell.”
         “Thanks. Angel got it for me.”
         He held out his arm and she snuggled against him, the soft new leather; it did look great on him. A pang of jealously shot through Heero and he wondered -not for the first time- if they were having sex.