Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell ❯ Regret, Part 2 ( Chapter 14 )

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 14/?

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Note: This fic is a response to Nova Una's challenge to write a 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, *reference to religious dogma*.

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 14 - Regret, Part 2

He was tired of staring at the ceiling. He was tired of waiting. He'd spent far too much time waiting. Things had to be resolved now, and Meiran and he would talk, whether she wanted to or not.

"Meiran," he said softly, approaching the couch. "What's wrong?"

It was a ridiculous question. The simple answer was 'everything,' but he didn't know where else to start.

She turned around, and he could picture the glare she was leveling at him, even in the dark. She sat up and folded her arms across her chest.

"You're not the man I married," she said.

"People change," he offered lamely, wondering if he was trying to start an argument with her.

"No. You're right," she said, confusing him. "You're wrong, but you're right. You are the man I married. But people don't change. Not really, Wufei. Not where it counts the most. It just pains me to see you doing everything you can to deny who you are inside."

He didn't know how to respond to that. People DID change, didn't they? Look at Duo, just this past week.

"Don't even try to use Duo as a counterpoint," she said. Despite the number of years they'd known each other, it still surprised him when she could anticipate what he was going to say. "Duo has nothing to do with this. And if you insist on trying to use him as some body of evidence, then you'd better make sure you have all the facts first. How well do you really know Duo, outside of work?"

He opened his mouth to protest, but the only times he'd associated with Duo, it had been business related. Even their social gatherings had always had something to do with an upcoming deal.

He'd punched Duo in the face the first time he saw him, standing there talking to Meiran, off to one side at some conference or another. He'd reacted to an unknown emotion, a fear, a feeling of possession that he hadn't realized he'd admitted until his knuckles made contact with that smiling mouth.

Wufei hadn't missed the coldness in Duo's eyes as he rubbed his aching jaw. As if he were warning Wufei that if he ever did it again, he'd be sorry.

Meiran had been pissed. She had made it clear that she was no squeamish miss in need of rescuing, and would have stormed off if Duo hadn't suddenly laughed it off as one big joke, making Wufei forget about the dangerous gleam in his eyes. Duo managed to get Meiran to admit that he was irresistible to women, and how could she blame Wufei? She complained that it showed a lack of trust on Wufei's part, but Duo had won the smile he'd been after.

She made a few cutting comments in the car on the way home that night, but as soon as they got home, they were all over each other. Sex that night had been incredible, as if Meiran were suddenly reassured of her place in his life.

He'd done Meiran a great disservice, on many occasions, throughout their marriage, and she had borne under it. He hated to think in cliche terms, but Meiran was probably the closest thing to a soul mate he was likely to find.

He seemed destined to repeat his mistakes. Fitting that the second person he'd punched in some antiquated attempt to protect Meiran's honor had been involved with the first in some way.

The time for talk was past. Action was needed, not words. He walked over to her, bent down, and grabbed one of her arms. He pulled her up over his shoulder, her head and arms dangling down his back, then headed for the bedroom. Their bedroom.

"You are so dead meat, Chang!" she started yelling, but he recognized the passion that lay under the anger. He slapped her ass playfully as she struggled in earnest. Let her fight him. He'd missed their wrestling matches. Maybe she could show him a few more things he'd forgotten.

Like his place in HER life.

~~~~~~~

Duo was surprised to find Heero at the hotel waiting for him.

OK, he admitted to himself. Heero wasn't exactly waiting for him. It was more like he was standing in front of the closet, practically ripping the linen shirt off without unbuttoning it. A few buttons came loose with the effort, but the others resisted, making the shirt hang crookedly off his shoulders.

It might have been funny, given other circumstances.

He knew that Heero was aware that he'd returned, but the man was too busy yanking his own green silk shirt out of the closet. He finally pulled the yellow fabric over his head and threw it on the floor, then shrugged on his own shirt. His hands were on the button of the slacks he was wearing before he finally looked at Duo.

He seemed to reconsider, then snagged the leather pants off their hanger and rudely pushed past Duo, storming out the door and toward the elevator.

Duo took a few calming breaths before following.

Heero was glaring fiercely at the elevator doors, as if that might make it move faster. His fists were clenched around the leather he was holding, and he carried an aura of 'don't fuck with me' that probably could be seen from miles away.

But Duo Maxwell had never backed down from a challenge.

He adopted that placating, slightly condescending tone of voice he used when he was delivering the killing blow during a meeting, the one he used to calmly inform investors that they no longer held a majority of stocks in a company.

The response was immediate.

Heero swung at him.

He probably would have connected, too, if he hadn't dropped the pants first, giving Duo ample warning. Duo hadn't been in a fight like this since his somewhat misspent youth, but it seemed that some things were never forgotten. He barely dodged Heero's fist, then retaliated by tackling Heero, throwing himself at Heero's midsection in an attempt to knock him off balance.

They both landed on the floor and rolled. The elevator doors opened, but neither of them paid any notice. Sprawled on the ground as they were, a few feet from the doors, they were out of the line of sight of the elevator operator. The hotel employee could hear the signs of their struggle but had learned to avoid getting involved in any strange goings on with the penthouse suite. He ignored the sight of the pants that had been dropped in front of the elevator and sighed in relief when the doors slid shut again.

Duo was having a hell of a time pinning Heero. The man wasn't as broad in shoulder or build as he, but he was remarkably strong, and at times, elusive. He threw Duo's body off several times, managing to land a few blows to the torso as they grappled.

He received a few as well, but they only seemed to fuel his anger. Duo had the feeling he was in a fight with an angry wet cat. It was part skill and part luck that he finally managed to pin Heero's legs with his own, entertwining them and holding Heero to the ground with his most of his weight. The rest of his body was supported by his elbows which were on either side of Heero's arms.

This position left them in full body contact, and Duo studied the face beneath him.

The wig was hanging onto Heero's brown locks for dear life. It looked like a large furry spitball had gotten stuck in his hair. Duo took a chance and raised his left arm enough to reach for the dangling hairpiece, pulling it free of the remaining two bobby pins and tossing it aside.

Heero's eyes were flashing angrily. A line from a song flitted through Duo's head. Temptation eyes. That's what Heero had, no matter what color they were.

Heero was a beautiful man, Duo realized. He'd never have considered that an appropriate adjective for anyone with a Y-chromosome, but it was true. The thick, almost bushy eyebrows did nothing to detract from the rest of his face. His lashes were long and thick, and his nose upturned slightly at the end. His nostrils were flaring, giving Duo had the distinct impression that he was lying on a powder keg.

And Heero's lips...

There was a small cut from where his teeth had cut into his lower lip, courtesy of Wufei's punch, but Duo was more focused on the heavy breathing that was coming out of those extremely tempting, extremely kissable lips.

His mind filled with the sudden vision of the two of them doing it right here, having hot, angry sex, in the hall. Pictured the two of them in a tangle of arms and legs, hands roaming everywhere. Felt the swelling in his groin as he leaned forward to capture Heero's lips.

Heero started bucking madly in an effort to get away.

Duo stood up immediately. Strike two, Maxwell.

"Don't touch me," Heero growled at him.

Duo willed his erection down only by means of the anger that swept through him at Heero's tone, because this spitting mad Heero was a hell of a lot sexier than the pliant, submissive one he'd been seeing most of the time.

"I think I've paid enough for the privilege of doing a damn sight more than touching you," he said, proud of the calm, impersonal tone he used.

He thought Heero was going to try to deck him again, but it seemed as though he just deflated. Duo felt a sense of alarm, and he reached over to touch Heero on the shoulder, feeling he had to console Heero in some way, maybe even apologize.

Then he felt Heero's fist connect with his gut.

Taken by surprise, he sank to his knees. He was still doubled over when he heard the elevator doors open again, and the surprised gasp from the operator. Then Heero was gone.

The leather pants were lying on the floor, mocking him.

~~~~~~

Heero glared at the elevator operator as soon as he entered the lift, making the man avert his gaze.

He was going to kill Quatre for starters. He would never have approached that damn Ferrari in the first place, if not for Quatre's 'what do you have to lose?'

He wanted to laugh at the bitter irony of it all.

He'd managed to scrape up enough change by picking up coins that had been littered on the ground. Then he'd gotten on the next bus, glad that no one else had found the money first.

Until he realized which bus he'd boarded. If he had any other options, he would have gotten right back off the bus.

Although, to be honest with himself, something he seemed to be having a lot of trouble with lately, he had plenty of other options, none of which involved setting foot anywhere near the Regent Beverly Wilshire Hotel.

Once, before he'd taken his current path, and when the lure of alcohol was still dangerously attractive, he'd sat with Trowa and Quatre in The Bar after closing. The Bar was generally accepted as the de facto name of the establishment that Trowa either ran or owned, Heero wasn't quite sure which. Trowa had explained that there had been a contest quite some time ago to name 'the bar.' The entries had ranged from hilarious to pretentious to downright offensive, and at some point it had become a pub ritual, to see who could come up with the most outlandish suggestion every week. Eventually its namelessness became its generally accepted identity, despite Quatre's teasing attempts to get Trowa to change it at least once or twice a month. But as Trowa had pointed out at one time, "and put an end to a long standing tradition?" Then other 'traditions' had been bandied about, including bar fights and bodies thrown through plate glass windows.

So he'd sat with the two of them that night, nursing his beer and staring into its depths, trying to find the solace it promised, but afraid to take that first step, that first sip. He hadn't yet approached his first john, and he was in a state of there-but-not-really-there as Trowa and Quatre debated, of all things, religion. Mainly the effects of religious beliefs on things like blue laws.

Somehow the differences and similarities between basic dogma of various faiths came into the conversation

Quatre had compared 'Elihom' to the Holy Trinity of Catholicism. He'd commented that the Hebrew word for God, or Allah, ended in 'm' which, if he remembered correctly, indicated a plural form of the noun. Heero remembered pondering, at the time, the plurality of a higher power; how much of it was symbolic and how much was a literal translation.

He'd never really believed in an omnipotent being, finding that the only thing he could believe in was himself and his ideals. How very naive he'd been back then. It seemed a lifetime ago. Someone else's lifetime ago.

Duo's name indicated duality. The man was hot and cold, honest and cunning by turns. What was in a name? In Duo's case, everything and then some. He still couldn't believe he'd given his own name to Duo that first night. He could have given any name, made one up as he did for those johns who felt the need to address him by something other than 'bitch.' It seemed that someone else had been doing all the thinking for him ever since he leaned in the window of that Enzo.

Heero wasn't a religious man, but he felt sure of one thing.

He'd looked the devil in the eye, and the devil's name was Duo Maxwell.

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The girl behind the reception desk answered the courtesy phone, and her face brightened immediately.

"Yes, he's here, please hold."

She opened her mouth to yell across the lobby, then remembered the reprimand she'd received the last time she'd been so crass, and quietly approached the manager of guest relations.

"Howard," she said meekly. "There is a guest requesting to speak to you on line two."

He nodded in approval, then went to the phone in his office to take the call.

~~~~~~

Heero was ready to commit bloody murder with his bare hands. Could any more people possibly need to use the elevator right now? He didn't think it possible that anyone needed to leave this hotel more than he. His angry scowl went largely unnoticed, as people boarded the elevator still speaking on cell phones or to each other.

By the time the elevator doors opened to the lobby, Heero was almost surprised to see traces of daylight still beyond the glass doors leading to Wilshire Boulevard. It had seemed that so much more time had passed.

And just when he could nearly taste the freedom of the outdoors, he saw the calm easy smile of the hotel manager as he approached. Heero wanted to howl in frustration.

So damn close...

But had he really thought Duo was going to take that sucker punch lying down?

Apparently he had.

Part of him wanted to rebel, wanted to slip past Howard, knew he could. Why would Duo continue pursuing him once he'd reached the outside? Would he file charges of assault? He couldn't see Duo wanting to explain their association to the authorities. What would it accomplish? Duo did nothing that didn't benefit himself in some way.

He'd already called Duo's bluff once before. Did he dare do it again?

He did. He was close to the point of no longer caring, having skated close to the edge so much in the past few days.

Bring it on, Duo Maxwell.

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He should have his head examined.

He could have neatly avoided Howard, along with any hotel security that might be dragged into what had to be coming known as daily entertainment for the staff of the Regent Beverly.

Perhaps that was a slight exaggeration.

He had decided the hell with Duo's twisted little game of power, had wanted to see what lengths Duo would go to in order to win, once he physically left the hotel, once he gave into the beckoning liberty that lay beyond those doors.

Curiosity killed the cat, hadn't it?

He gave up trying to rationalize his reasons. He wasn't sure he'd like what he found if the answers existed.

Because here he was, sitting on the loveseat in Duo's luxury suite, staring at the wall hard enough to make it combust.

He was beginning to think the loveseat had a siren song of its own, not quite ready to admit that the silent call he'd responded to came from Duo.

Duo was honestly stunned when Howard had called him from the lobby to tell him that his guest was on his way up. He hadn't really believed it until the door to the suite opened and Heero was standing there, looking just as angry, but with a touch of resignation.

Heero had practically marched into the room, thrown himself into the loveseat, and proceeded to stare a hole into the wallpaper.

He didn't know how long they sat there. Two minutes? Two hours? He felt the room only needed the ticking of a grandfather clock to complete the picture.

"I'm sorry."

Heero's eyes snapped up to his, pupils narrowing. Duo sighed.

"Look, I know I've fucked up. I'm not going to beg your forgiveness. But..." he took a calming breath. "Neither am I going to beg you to stay."

The last thing Heero expected from Duo was begging, but he was taken by surprise nonetheless.

Damn it, he didn't want to be intrigued, but it was far too late for that. If it weren't, he would never have come back up to Duo's room.

Duo moved from his armchair, slowly approaching the loveseat. He lowered himself to the empty cushion, turning his body to face Heero.

He reached out a hand and brushed the disheveled bangs from Heero's forehead, running his fingertips over the lobe of Heero's ear as he retracted his hand.

"Heero," he said, his voice low and husky. "Heero, let me make it good for you."

Heero didn't know how to respond to that.

How many sides were there to Duo Maxwell? With horror, he realized his face had turned toward Duo's hand so that Duo was cupping the side of his face. He didn't want it to feel good. He didn't want this feeling of warmth. That wasn't why he was doing it.

'Let me make it good for you.'

Wasn't that HIS job? He was the one who was paid to make Duo 'feel good.'

Of course, there had been men who'd insisted on seeing Heero respond to their clumsy attempts, on a physical level at least, just to feel like they were lovers extraordinaire, but none had touched him with such gentleness.

It was another game. Duo was changing tactics again. Hadn't he mentioned that flexibility was a key strategy?

His defenses had been slowly crumbling, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to build them back up fast enough. This time when Duo leaned forward, he had a moment of panic. Then Duo's cheek grazed his own, and Duo's breath was in his ear.

"Let me."

To which Heero replied firmly, steadily, "I don't do seme."

Duo sat back, surprised to hear a response from Heero.

"Excuse me?"

"I don't do seme," Heero repeated, feeling a little more in control of the situation now that Duo had moved out of his personal space.

Duo wracked his brain for the meaning of that word. Attack, offense?

"Uke only," Heero continued.

Uke. Receiving. Ah. Message received, Heero, no pun intended.

He hadn't expected it to be any other way, but found it interesting that Heero felt the need to state that up front.

He stood, then reached a hand to Heero, who looked at it for a moment, then allowed Duo to help him to his feet.

The two of them headed for the bedroom.

tbc

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Heh. Well, I had to stop there, otherwise I'd have had to attach the lemon warning to THIS chapter, and then where would the surprise have been?

OK. Yes, Elihom is the Hebrew word for God. There are schools of thought regarding the interpretation of the "m" suffix, ranging from "One True God of the people" to polytheism. Not bad for a Roman Catholic, eh? I mention that only because I'm sure I'm oversimplifying the explanation, so please forgive me my ignorance!

Blue laws refer to the laws dating back to the Puritans. Think of states where working on Sunday was still forbidden, and the laws governing sale of alcohol on Sundays. Back in the seventeenth century, 'immoral behavior' was frowned upon severely, including not observing the Sabbath as well as drinking, and engaging in the playing of games (dice, cards, etc.) in public. Remember the Prohibition? Yeah, me neither. I'm not quite that old.