by Ravensilver


Funny, he’d never really thought about it, about what the pen meant to Heero. Picking the pen up from the carpet it had rolled onto as he was clearing the stacks of bills from the table, Duo held it in his hand, suddenly slammed with a moment of absolute clarity and insight.

Heero’s pen. The threads around the grip were worn away, the printing on the side was only barely visible, it needed a new cartridge every month; it had been Heero’s constant companion throughout the years. It had been a gift; one of those useless, thoughtless objects one gets when one has been with a company long enough. Une had handed Heero the prettily wrapped case with a rueful smile and a hearty handshake as if she wanted to apologize for the meagreness of the gift in the face of Heero’s twenty years of absolute dedication to Preventers.

Heero had accepted both the pen and the handshake with that grave expression with which he greeted all such attempts to “Heerofy” him. Then he’d unpacked it after the small private dinner that all the pilots held in commemoration of his service, showed it to Duo and then added it to the tin can that held all their pens. After a while, Duo would see Heero choosing this one pen over all the others if he had some work to do.

Over the years, the pen had accompanied Heero on many a mission or meeting. It had seen blood and it had seen tears. It had stopped bombs and held open trapdoors. It had received scratches and a tiny crack when Heero fell when he had been chasing an arms dealer down an iced-over alley and had slipped just as a sniper took a shot at him. It had saved his life numerous times.

Duo cradled the pen in his hand and thought about the years that had passed since. Another commemoration was coming up. It would be their last. After this, they both had vowed to resign, to finally turn their eyes and interests to other things. A sailing boat was waiting at the port in Geneva and a small cabin in the Swiss Alps was also awaiting them. They would finally have the time they needed for each other, for their extended family, and for their friends.

“Duo?” a voice called from the top of the stairs, “Have you seen my pen?”

“Right here,” Duo answered, watching appreciatively as his still handsome husband descended the stairs. The uniform still fit trimly, the rank a bit higher, the medals and ribbons more numerous. Heero’s hair was still unruly, defying all attempts to tame it even though it was now peppered with more silver. The body still muscular, the movements still fluid, his expression serene, Heero approached his waiting husband.

Duo handed the pen to Heero, who tucked it into its customary place in his left breast pocket. Then he pulled Heero close for a deep, long kiss.


“Have I told you that I love you today?” Duo looked into Heero’s slightly pinked face.

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, I do,” Duo replied and kissed Heero again until they were both panting for breath.

“What brought this on?” Heero asked as he drew back a bit.

“Oh,” Duo answered, leaning against Heero’s shoulder, deeply breathing in his husband’s scent and finding it as calming and soothing as always, “Just… stuff.”

This page last updated: