This Happens Every Year

Duo smiled and waved to Trowa as the young man walked into restaurant and took a 
seat across the table from him. 

"I'm sorry I'm late." Trowa apologized. "The traffic was terrible."

"Usually is this time of year." Duo agreed. "I ordered a bottle of champagne." 
he explained as the wine waiter arrived with it I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all. It was thoughtful of you." Trowa smiled, then leaned forward to 
give Duo a thank-you kiss.

Duo returned the kiss, then kissed Trowa even more deeply. "I love you, Trowa-kun." 
he whispered.

Trowa felt his heart skip, like it always did when that violet-eyed angel spoke 
those words, words meant for him and him alone.

"I love you, too, Duo-kun."

The two of them gazed into each other's eyes as they sipped their champagne, 
each as captivated and captivating as they had been that night all those years 
ago.

"This is the same champagne." Trowa realized.

Duo nodded. "Well... different bottle..."

Trowa laughed. "Yeah. But same make, same year..."

"Same restaurant." Duo added.

"Same table." Trowa waved a hand over it, like a magician displaying a card fan.

"Something's different, though." Duo smiled. "Ah. I see what it is." he took 
hold of Trowa's left hand smiled at the gold band around the ring finger. "This 
wasn't here last time." He kissed Trowa's hand, softly, before releasing it, and 
looking down to examine his own ring, the twin of the one Trowa wore.

"....sixteen... seventeen..." Trowa chuckled.

"I do not have that many!" Duo pouted. Truth was, he did have more grey hairs 
than he would've wanted, but he didn't feel like ruining his hair with gels or 
dyes. "Besides," he gently fingered the greying hair at Trowa's temples, "look 
who's talking." he kissed Trowa again, this time adding, "Happy Twenty-Fifth 
Anniversary, Trowa."

"Happy Twenty-Fifth Anniversary, Duo." Trowa replied.

"Heh..." Heero came up to their table at this point, looking very drunk. He 
waved to them, tried to wish them a Happy Anniversary, and collapsed in a 
sobbing heap on the floor that was so unlike the Perfect Soldier they'd once 
known.

But that had been a long time ago..

"Here we go again." the happy couple nodded to each other.

"This happens every year." Trowa pointed out as he and Duo carried Heero out to 
their car, stopping just long enough to pay for the champagne.

"I was married, you know." Heero slurred, talking to Duo ask Trowa drove to 
Heero's apartment. "I killed him. I killed my little Quatre. I didn't mean to... 
I didn't know he was so fragile. I didn't..."

Duo stroked Heero's hair while the other man sobbed in his sleep. Quatre's death 
had been a tragedy. The young aristocrat had married Heero and then had died on 
their wedding night, despite the fact that Heero had been tender, of an 
unexpected and unexplained heart attack.

Duo and Trowa stayed with Heero that night, as they had every year when this 
happened. The put him to bed, then went to watch TV on the sofa.

Soon, however, the TV was forgotten as Duo lowered Trowa back onto the sofa and 
stretched out on top of him, playfully licking at his face like a kitten and 
stroking his manhood until Trowa was laughing and moaning at the same time and 
happiness was in his eyes. Then, Duo slipped off Trowa's pants and his own and, 
pausing only to pull a bottle of lubricant from his pocket, he began to 
carefully prepare Trowa for a night of lovemaking.

Trowa gasped with pleasure as Duo's fingers caressed his inner flesh, brushing 
against that elusive spot deep within him until he was on the verge of orgasm. 
Then, they were withdrawn. Trowa looked up into Duo's violet eyes, as they drew 
nearer, his heart racing with physical, emotional, and spiritual joy as Duo 
carefully entered him and made love to him with a curious combination of 
playfulness and tenderness until Trowa was absolutely sure that all the joy and 
happiness in the universe emanated from the gentle heart and tender soul of Duo 
Maxwell. 

They were still entwined on the sofa the next morning, sound asleep, when Heero 
dragged himself out of bed. He tossed a blanket over them and muttered, in his 
familiar 'Perfect Soldier' monotone "This is not your room." 

-----Owari-----