Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell ❯ Ripples ( Chapter 9 )

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 9/?

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Note: This fic is a response to Nova Una's challenge to write Gundam Wing/Pretty Woman fusion fic with Heero in the Julia Roberts role and Duo in the Richard Gere role.

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, citrusy situations, suggestive dialog, significant (read that as major, MAJOR) deviation from Pretty Woman script as I see fit.

Spoilers: None for GW, oodles for Pretty Woman, to an extent.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no profit, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Edulcorate (verb)- To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

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Chapter 9 - Ripples

/"Niisan," she scolded him lightly. "You worry too much. I know what I'm doing. Don't you trust me?"

"Yes," he sighed. "But I don't trust the company you keep."

"We aren't kids anymore!" she said, her tone still teasing but her eyes flashing angrily. "You can't tell me what to do!"

"I can and I will as long as you continue making choices that endanger your future!"

"Bullshit! You are supposed to be my friend! I thought you didn't buy into that whole hierarchy load of crap, but GOD! You've changed. You don't talk to me anymore, except to boss me around. Ever since you've come back, you've acted like...like you're better than me or something!"

"No..." he began, trying to find the words to say, words that would show her she was wrong, couldn't be more wrong. He was tongue-tied, unable to find a way to explain it to her that wouldn't compromise things in the bigger picture. In a way, he was doing it for her, for her and her friends. Her other friends. He couldn't tell her where he'd really been the past few years. His hesitation made her jump to all the wrong conclusions.

Her eyes filled with angry tears, and she shook her head. She was filled with the self-righteousness that only teenagers seemed to possess in buckets, and she vehemently refused to listen to reason. Because he couldn't tell her the truth, she was left to fill in the blanks. She wanted to hurt him as much as she was hurting, for what she viewed as a serious betrayal of what had been at one time a deep and abiding friendship.

He who hesitates is lost.

And it was the last time she ever called him Niisan./

~~~~~~

When Duo woke the next morning, he glanced over at Heero, who was on his stomach with his head turned away from Duo the way his whole body had been the previous night.

He'd slept with a whore. As in slept. Twice now. Duo was willing to bet his entire fortune that must defy some sort of unwritten rules that existed for hooker-client relations.

He shook his head, and slipped out of bed, being as stealthy as he could so as not to wake Heero. He needed some time to process all that had happened. Peacecraft was not going to just lie down and let things continue in their favor. Wufei would be calling soon to find out how the evening had gone.

Flexibility was key, he decided. If you couldn't gain entrance to a fortress using a force of explosives, you had to try to sneak in without getting caught. Keeping the opposition unbalanced was always a good strategy. He made a couple of phone calls, then looked at the clock when he was done.

He had half an hour. It was good to have the kind of money that put people at one's beck and call. That left him with plenty of time to check in with Wufei. Might as well get it over with.

~~~~~~

Meiran Long looked at the ringing cell phone and then at the bathroom door, where she expected her husband to come running out to answer the phone as if it were the only life line available to keep him from drowning.

She knew who it was.

As much as she liked Duo Maxwell, there were times when she wanted to wring his neck. She didn't blame Duo for Wufei's ruthless business sense, not by a long shot. Wufei was not one to be caught up in the tides of anyone else's personality, not even one as forceful as Duo's. It also meant her husband was extremely hardheaded, but she'd learned to accept him for it long ago, long before he'd first kissed her in her backyard, surprising them both.

They'd been so young then, barely fourteen and just starting high school, and so very full of youthful bravado. The act, a simple pressing of his lips against hers, had left her feeling unbalanced for the first time in her life.

She'd fallen in love with Wufei before she even knew what love was, and hadn't recognized it as such until much later. Ever since the two of them could walk, they'd been in competition with each other. Who stopped wetting the bed first. Who could get the swing to go higher. Who could go longer watching a scary movie without hiding their eyes. Who could knock down more stacked cans with a tennis ball. Who got the highest score on their history test.

He constantly made her strive harder, as much as she hated to admit it. She did it for herself first and foremost, but she couldn't remember a time when it wasn't in the back of her head - the triumphant look she could give Wufei Chang when she was victorious. That applied to all aspects of her life, not just those in which she competed directly with him.

It never occurred to her that he might feel the same way, and she'd just stood there, at the back of her house, long after he'd removed his lips from hers, blushed slightly, and gone home without so much as a backward glance. The memory was fuzzy with the passage of time, but she was willing to bet she'd still had her fingers pressed to her lips when her mother called her in for supper that night.

If there was one thing she'd always admired about Wufei, it was his refusal to back down from a fight, no matter how unpopular his opinion was. There were precious few people who stood up for what was right, especially when what was right wasn't always well received.

Then he'd decided to abandon his emerging career as a defense attorney after losing his first high profile case. And had practically gone into seclusion, which had in turn worried her endlessly. Wufei felt he'd failed, and failed in ways that she couldn't imagine. That had hurt her more than anything, that for the first time since they'd known each other, this was something she couldn't understand.

They'd met Duo at one of the fundraisers she'd helped organize. She'd actually approached him, recognizing him as someone with the determination to make things happen, no matter what. Wufei had joined them shortly afterwards.

She smiled at the memory, but it was gone as soon as her husband hung up the phone and grinned at her.

Wufei did not grin. That look meant something happened that he was immensely pleased with, but it was something she was not going to like.

"Duo got under his skin," he said. "Peacecraft was so angry, he stormed out of the restaurant, with his sister in tow."

Meiran frowned as Wufei almost gleefully told her how Duo had implied that the FDA was conducting an investigation of the Zodiac Conglomerate. He noticed the stiffening of her shoulders and crossed his arms, scowling at her.

"Don't look at me like that," he growled. "Peacecraft knows what he's getting into. It's a cutthroat world, and if you aren't prepared to do battle, if you haven't come up with a sound business strategy for your firm, then you have no one else to blame. No one forced him to take over his father's company."

"You know everything, don't you, Chang?" she asked. Wufei recognized the subtle warning. She only called him Chang when she was downright seething. "What about getting to know your enemies, recognizing where their motivations lie, assessing their weaknesses? Exploiting that knowledge in a fencing match is one thing, but to take advantage of it for personal gain is just inhumane."

She stormed into the living room of the sublet apartment they'd rented for the week and picked up a magazine that was laying on the coffee table. When he followed her into the room, she threw it at him, striking him in the chest. He caught it before it fell to the ground, and stared at her like she was crazy. It was a look that she'd often found anywhere from cute to aggravating, but it had never made her feel as enraged as she was right now.

"What's the matter, Chang?" she sneered. "Can't bother to read the entire thing front to back? Try the little business notes section. Remember those? You used to find them interesting, before you prostituted all you believed in to the lure of the business world. Where we came from, that makes you nothing more than a whore."

He was shocked speechless, giving her ample time to shove her feet into a pair of sneakers near the door without untying them. She put her hand on the doorknob, then turned to glare at him one last time.

"I'm going out for a run. You'll probably be gone by the time I get back. Have a great day playing God with people's lives. Maybe you can start a war in a third world country while you're at it, and still be home in time for supper."

Wufei watched the door slam behind her, and then glanced down at the periodical in his hand. He wasn't really looking at it, or the picture of the impeccably dressed man gracing its cover.

~~~~~~

"I'd appreciate not finding out from a third party that you've been assessing my company behind my back. I expect that from a complete stranger, but not from someone I considered a friend."

"As much as it pains me to remind you, Milliardo, you must realize that there are no friends in the business world. You of all people should know that. Everything in life can be reduced to a tactical standoff. Corporate monopolies, military combat, buying goods at a market, disagreements between friends. It's a matter of getting to know the players before making your move," the cultured voice sounded over the speakerphone.

Milliardo Peacecraft got up and walked away from the desk before he gave into the temptation to throw the phone across the room.

"I need to come up with a plan!" he raged. "If you're not going to do anything to help, I need to accept whatever Maxwell-Chang is offering. This is Relena's future we're talking about, and I won't stand by and let it be stolen out from under her!"

Relena halted outside her brother's study, not meaning to eavesdrop but unable to get her feet to carry her past the door that was slightly ajar.

She lost the thread of the conversation as her brother's voice grew low and dangerous. She shivered. He had been ill tempered since last night, sullen and moody in a way he hadn't been in a long time. She could remember the very day his personality had first undergone that shift, and knew what was coming as soon as he terminated the call, picking up the receiver and slamming it down for good measure.

She didn't need to peek in the room to see it, but she did anyway.

"...the ailing Peacecraft has called upon the assistance of his children, Milliardo, 22, and Relena, 15, as the company continues to explore new direction. The younger Peacecraft, who willingly gave up a military career to pursue his father's dream, has been placed in charge of ruining the company's diversification..."

Relena watched her brother stare at that accursed scrap of paper. It had been three years now, but she still knew what it said by heart. It had been a simple typo, she'd explained even back then, and one that had a correction posted in the very next issue, but he had taken it personally, and pointed out that not everyone bothered to read the corrections for past issues. She hadn't expected to him to take it in good humor, and she had expected him to prove them wrong. Except she hadn't realized how very zealous he'd become. It was like he'd become an entirely different person overnight.

His desire to continue on to special operations in the army had been effectively put on hold indefinitely, and he'd adamantly refused to cut his hair ever since. He claimed the next time it was cut, he'd be in uniform again, or it wouldn't be cut at all. He'd only relented to trim his bangs occasionally, and sometimes Relena thought perhaps he did it to have something in common with her, something small and insignificant but personal all the same.

It might get worse when he read that little blurb that echoed the disembodied voice's comments. She made her way to the kitchen and hoped she was able to look as ill informed about everything as her brother seemed determined to keep her.

He joined her in the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. He looked just as dark and brooding as he had since that disastrous dinner. Until that phone call this morning, she'd hoped a good night's sleep would have helped things look a little brighter. Sometimes that was all she needed, when things looked their darkest. She'd found it was easier to deal with obstacles when she was well rested, and things always seemed so much brighter in the daylight hours. Problems weren't quite so oppressive.

She supposed that might change this fall. She was graduating at the end of the academic year, and would be expected to pick up some of the slack she'd been given while attending school full time and interning at the office part time. Would she become like Milliardo, bitter and bearing a massive chip on her shoulder?

No, she decided. She would not.

He was still standing at the coffeepot, but finally turned to face her. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it and sat down at the adjacent side of the table.

"Relena," he began, "I apologize for my being short with you yesterday evening. You handled yourself with the utmost comportment, and I appreciate your assistance. I always have," he added, his ice blue eyes darkening. Relena's heart caught in her throat at the rare show of real affection from her brother.

She couldn't voice a response, but he wasn't waiting for one. He seemed to be making a decision.

"I would like you to accompany me tomorrow. There will be an outdoor festival of sorts. Invitations are usually only extended to Fortune 500 companies, but they are opening it up this year to local businesses in the region as well. It will be a chance for us to mingle with the big guns, to network with the people who count, and there are enough outdoor activities to keep you entertained as well. I think it will be a good chance to combine business with pleasure." He smiled at her then. A small, sorry excuse for a smile, to be sure, but a smile nonetheless.

How could she say no to that?

~~~~~~

Quatre sat at the bar, his arms stretched over the expanse of wood and his fingers dangling over the other side.

"Iria's been calling again," he said conversationally.

Trowa counted out the money he'd need for the register that morning. Usually a small crowd would come in for the light breakfast the pub offered on Tuesdays. Nothing much, just a few regulars and the occasional businessman looking for a place with no crowds, away from the hustle and bustle that was the rest of Los Angeles, but enough to turn a profit.

Trowa knew Iria had been calling with increasing frequency. The only number Quatre had given her was the one to the phone at the bar, so all her calls were received here. Sometimes Trowa thought perhaps his friend was afraid to talk to his sister when he was alone.

"What did she want this time?" he asked, glancing up at Quatre briefly before whacking the antique register on its side with an open palm.

"Why don't you fix that thing?" Quatre said, pulling his body forward by his fingertips and resting his stomach on the polished surface of the bar. He held his upper body aloft to watch Trowa perform a series of light punches and thwaps to get the drawer to slide open

"It's a built-in anti-theft device," Trowa said reasonably.

"I can get it to open," Quatre bragged.

"Yes," Trowa agreed. "You have a magic touch." The blond grinned at him, then frowned as Trowa prodded gently. "Quatre?"

He retreated from his position on the bar until his entire weight was supported by the stool, then leaned back as much as was safe and laced his fingers together behind his head, stretching them toward the ceiling. His shirt rode up slightly, exposing a small strip of skin between the hem of his shirt and the top of the low-rise jeans he was wearing. Trowa watched him and waited.

He sat forward again, his elbows slamming into the bar. He winced slightly as they made contact. "Ow," he said, then sighed. "You know what she wants. She wants me to go home."

Trowa considered Quatre's choice of words. "Go home," he said softly.

"What? Trowa, are you trying to get rid of me?"

"No," the brunette shook his head. "You said 'she wants me to go home,' not 'she wants me to come home.'"

"So?"

Trowa shrugged. "Nothing, I guess."

He walked to the door and unlocked it, then flipped the sign from CLOSED to OPEN.

Quatre looked like he was ready to say something, but the door opened up and a couple of men who looked like they'd been out all night partying staggered in, each supporting the other's weight.

Just another day in Hollywood.

~~~~~~

/"What happened?"

"Damnedest thing, ya know? She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. These kids, though, I'm tellin' ya. They get into that hard stuff and look where they end up."

He wanted to kill the man with his bare hands. Saw his hands reach out, in his mind's eye, and choke the presumptive bastard until his tongue turned black.

No. She hadn't, he wanted to rail at the man. No matter how very easy it would have been for her to do so.

No.

He wanted to howl. Wanted to turn back the hands of time. Wanted there to be something he could have done, anything.

No.../

Heero was lying on his stomach, and his hand reached out in a blind panic, groping the sheets searching for something, then realizing that he was in bed, and remembering everything that had happened to bring him here.

Everything.

He sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed, leaning forward with his hands on his knees, taking deep gasping breaths.

God, it still hurt.

And now he had to go out there and face yet another in a long string of mistakes he'd made in his lifetime.

He heard voices, one of them Duo's, another sounding slightly out of breath. A door closed, and Heero felt a sudden insane urge to just burrow under the covers and not come out. He snorted lightly. He was a grown man, not a child. What was the worst that could happen?

It didn't help that he thought perhaps the worst was already happening.

He stood up. Delays never made facing the music any easier.

When he walked out to the sitting room, Duo was at the computer, his brow wrinkled slightly. He smiled at Heero and inclined his head toward the table, where several covered dishes were.

Heero slowly made his way to the table, his eyes flicking back towards Duo, whose attention was back on whatever he was reading on the monitor. His hands tightened the loose knot in the terrycloth belt at his waist.

He'd felt a sense of relief wash over him when he'd found one of the luxury robes provided by the hotel hanging behind the bathroom door. He dropped his hands from the belt. Quatre would call him on that, saying Heero had a few tells of his own, given the right set of circumstances.

Quatre was a hell of a poker player. He didn't have what would be considered a poker face; his was far too expressive, but he was misleading as hell. He would look equally pissed with a royal flush as with 'jack squat,' as Trowa so elegantly put it. His eyes would gleam with unrepressed triumph at other times, regardless if he held a pair of deuces or four of a kind. You could never tell when Quatre was bluffing and when his true emotions were showing. He also had an uncanny knack for knowing when others were, and it was more than just watching for the 'tells' he was so fond of talking about.

Heero sat down and lifted the cover of one of the dishes, revealing a small bowl underneath. Another bowl resided under the second cover, and was that what he thought it was?

Miso soup, rice, and dried seaweed.

But only enough for one person.

He glanced again at Duo, who seemed not to have forgotten Heero was in the room. He broke apart the chopsticks and turned his attention to the food before him.

Duo had known Heero was awake as soon as he heard the bed creak, his ears having been attuned to it. He hadn't been surprised to see Heero covering himself this time, in sharp contrast to the blatant nudity of the previous morning.

He forced himself not to watch Heero as the man ate, forced himself not to remember the incredibly elegant way Heero had approached the meal the night before. He gave Heero enough time to finish breakfast, then swore softly as soon as the chopsticks were laid on the table. He allowed himself a tiny glance out of the corner of his eye. As he'd expected, Heero had looked up at the noise.

"Damn useless spam filter," he muttered, repeating the mantra he'd used throughout the day for the last two weeks. "Generic Valium. Refinancing my home. Reduce monthly mortgage payments. Viagra. Enlarge your penis..." this time he turned and looked right at Heero. "Do you think my penis needs to be enlarged, Heero?"

Heero mumbled something under his breath, and Duo struggled against the grin that was threatening to emerge. "What was that?"

"No," came the soft reply. Heero's head was bowed, but after that single word, he looked right at Duo, not a single expression on his face.

"Come here, please," Duo said, beckoning him further with a tilt of his head.

Heero was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he'd just expressed the opinion that Duo's penis was damn near perfect, in just those terms. Thankfully Duo hadn't heard him. He was halfway to Duo before he'd realized his feet were miles ahead of his brain. He slowed as he got within a yard of his 'employer,' and Duo motioned with his hand for Heero to stand behind him.

"You said you dabbled," Duo said. "Will a little dabble do me if I let you have at this spam problem?"

Heero almost missed what Duo was asking as he closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of the man in front of him.

"Yes," Heero replied firmly. Duo stood up and moved around Heero, and they changed places.

Heero's fingers flew over the keyboard, occasionally pausing whenever he needed to use the touchpad.

He said nothing, nor did Duo, but he was intensely aware of the heat radiating from the body that was now standing just inches behind him. Duo's hands came to rest on the back of the chair and his knuckles grazed Heero's back. Occasionally one hand would come up and point to something on the monitor as Duo asked a question.

He managed to reinstall the entire program, this time correctly configuring it, following Duo's instructions for filter settings, and applied it to the entire network. It never ceased to give Heero a sense of power, to be able to manipulate so much from a single remote location. Even with the distraction of Duo's breath near his ear when he turned his head a little too much during one of Duo's questions, he couldn't ignore that little thrill. One that had nothing to do with the fact that he'd swear he heard Duo's breath hitch when Heero's elbow grazed the inside of Duo's arm.

It seemed as though several lifetimes passed, and yet paradoxically it was over all too soon. Heero removed his hands from the keyboard and risked looking up at Duo, who was no longer leaning over him. "The only real test now is time."

"Hmm. And you call that dabbling," Duo mused. "I'd hate to see something you're really good at-" he bit off the words.

"Heero," he began, both of them ignoring any unintentional implications in Duo's words. "You've agreed to be whatever I need this week, within reason, right?"

Heero nodded. "Within reason," he repeated.

"I need you to help me with something."

tbc

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Before anyone has any of the issues I've seen in response to other fics, I am going to explain about the names I've used in this chapter. I am trying to remain consistent throughout the story with the American custom of Christian or given name followed by family or surname, hence "Wufei Chang" instead of "Chang Wufei." I did wonder if Meiran might refer to him as Chang Wufei, but I just gave up the ghost on that internal debate, because it is one of those details that wasn't worth obsessing over.

And yes, I did intend to keep Meiran's family name. It's not as common now as it was twenty or thirty years ago, but women have been known to keep their "maiden name" after getting married.