Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell ❯ Aftermath, Part 1 ( Chapter 16 )

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 16/?

~~~~~~~

Note: This fic was written in response to Nova Una's challenge to the 1x2ML 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 as I see fit. Gratuitous insertion of red herrings throughout.

Spoilers: None for GW, quite a bit for Pretty Woman.

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

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

~~~~~~~

Chapter 16 - Aftermath, Part 1

Heero wriggled his way out from under Duo's collapsed body, his mind at war with his body.

Had it been good for him?

His earlier question came back to haunt him. 'Whose definition of good?'

He'd known that Duo was all about power, and control, and probably a host of other less than flattering traits, if he took the time to look for them.

Had it been good for him?

Physically, he couldn't deny it. The proof had been right there on the sheets. Duo had started off with that damned seductive voice. The smugness crept in when he'd reminded Heero of their employment arrangement, and he'd been horrified at how easily he'd acquiesced.

Then Duo had started to...to worship his body. It brought back sharp memories of the night he'd been left sitting on the loveseat, dumbfounded. Duo had amazing hands. Gentle, confident, thorough.

It was obvious Duo had no idea what he was doing from the questions he was asking, unless he was playing a more complicated game than Heero thought.

But he really did know where to touch Heero's body. The feather light touches on his abdomen, the moist caress of Duo's lips against the base of his spine, they all were carefully laid stepping-stones in Duo's so-called seduction lessons.

They were men. Physiologically, they really didn't require as much foreplay to enjoy sex as women did. The intensity of one's orgasm depended on the individual's receptiveness to various stimuli. Physical, visual, auditory...

Emotional.

Heero ran a hand through his hair.

Was that what Duo had wanted to show him? That he could get Heero off? Did he know, or at least suspect, that Heero worked very hard at keeping his mind dissociated from his body during the act? That he never allowed a john the satisfaction of mutual orgasm? That it went against the reasons he was doing it, if he gave in to the pleasure, even when it was obtained reluctantly?

Again, if he was so determined to keep a tight rein on his body's reactions, why was he even doing it in the first place?

It had been an accident, really, an odd combination of circumstances, and Heero didn't have the energy to explore that thought at the moment.

~~~~~~

Trowa was locking up for the night, and Quatre was grumbling about how he'd lost to Otto. Again.

Suddenly he became very quiet.

"Quatre?"

When he received no response, he touched his friend on the shoulder. "Quatre?"

The blond turned and beamed at him, causing Trowa to frown.

"Are you alright, Quatre?"

"Never better," was the overly cheerful reply.

"Did you..." how did he phrase this? "...see something?"

Quatre frowned darkly. He hated when anyone made light of the knack he had for just knowing things.

"It's not like I have visions, you know. Don't treat me like some kind of charlatan," he snarled.

Trowa was taken aback, and decided that perhaps he'd said enough for one night.

The two of them parted ways outside the bar. Trowa spared one last look at Quatre's hunched over figure, the blond's hands thrust in his pockets as he stalked in the opposite direction, and sighed.

~~~~~~

Heero was out on the balcony again, looking out at the cityscape but not registering the sight.

He felt cold. It was a balmy night, and he was shivering.

He hoped he wasn't coming down with a cold.

Then he hoped he was.

//"'Niisan, you're such a geek."

He turned away from his laptop to face her and very calmly stated, "and proud of it" before resuming his typing.

"AARGH! Does nothing ever upset you?"

That gave him pause. "What do you mean?" he asked, slowly and carefully. He saved his homework assignment and turned off the computer. Once he'd closed it, he looked up at her from his position under the tree in his backyard.

"I mean...it's like nothing ever fazes you! I could tell you that the earth was spinning out of its rotation and you'd just nod and say you already knew that, but thanks for the info." She was pacing back and forth in front of the tree.

"I'd also be impressed that you'd noticed."

She came closer and kicked one of his outstretched legs. "You're so lucky I love you."

He nodded, and she resumed her pacing.

"What was it like in Japan?" she asked.

She obviously hadn't outgrown her leaps from one subject to another.

"Why do you ask?"

"I thought it was a 'chick thing' to answer a question with a question," she teased lightly. "I dunno, I guess I just want to know."

"Why?"

She kicked him again.

"I'm filing a domestic abuse complaint," he said, then ducked when she threw her shoe at him. "I'm not picking that up for you," he added. The other shoe nearly hit him that time.

She stood there with her hands on her hips, fuming.

He stood up then and imitated her stance, and was pleased to see the smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She threw her hands in the air in frustration, then walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his chest.

"Hmmm," she said, listening to the gentle thuds. "No, you're not heartless as I suspected."

"You wound me," he said. His deep voice sent tremors through her ear and she looked up at him.

"You know I would never, don't you, 'Niisan?"

"I know."

She rested her cheek back on his chest and he began stroking her hair.

"I really missed you, 'Niisan. I really thought you weren't coming back this time."

"I wrote to you," he reminded her.

"Not the same," she said, her voice hitching slightly. "It's not the same when you're not physically HERE."

He sighed. He'd been back for nearly a year now, but his absence still seemed fresh in her mind. They'd had this conversation many times throughout the school year, as if she hadn't trusted that he was really going to school only thirty miles away and not seven thousand.

It hadn't been his choice to go to school in Osaka. His mother had been asked to accept a temporary assignment in Kyoto, but she'd been hesitant about interfering with his education. Then a recent news report on the declining standards of education in the United States had set her off. It hadn't helped that she was, as she phrased it, going 'all that way to learn what an American taught them in the first place' after the Second World War. She'd cursed her grandfather's generation in two languages when they'd asked her to go.

When they broke the news to their son, she'd looked at him intently and made it very clear that he WOULD reap the full benefit of the overseas education or there would be hell to pay.

It had been a major concession for her. As much as she adored her husband's birthplace, she had little tolerance for some of the cultural differences such as the use of honorifics and the general attitude some companies held toward women, particularly working mothers, in the business world. She had a chip on her shoulder that was born from her American upbringing, and only her devotion to her spouse kept her from making her opinions known in rather vulgar terms at times.

Fortunately his grandfather was bucking tradition and adhering to some of the more outdated customs less than was common. It could have had something to do with his admiration for some of the younger staff members employed by the family business as well as respect for his own wife, who ran their family like a military operation.

The company was technically his birthright, but neither parent wanted him to rest on his laurels. He hadn't wanted that, either.

He hadn't lacked for anything while they were living in Japan. Academically, he'd surpassed even his parents' expectations, so much so that he was two years ahead of his classmates when they finally returned stateside, although that only emphasized his mother's already lackluster opinion of American public and private education. He'd obtained his high school diploma shortly after, concurrently engaging in independent study while enrolled in a few community college courses.

Through his musing, he realized he was still stroking her hair, and her face was nuzzled against him.

Well, maybe there had been ONE thing he'd been lacking while he'd been gone.//

~~~~~~~

Heero shivered again. Maybe he was destined to always lack some vital piece that connected him to life.

Bullshit. 'Destiny' was an excuse used by people who refused to take responsibility for their actions.

His eyes traveled to the constellations. Interesting how sailors once relied on these very same stars for navigation, the tiny pinpoints of light the only thing providing them an anchor and sense of direction in what must have seemed to be an ocean of infinite size.

How frightening it must have been on overcast nights, when their only link to the world beyond the expanse of water was hidden from view.

~~~~~~~~

//"I'm here now," he murmured into her hair.

"You're only going to leave again," she complained, her lips moving against his shirt.

He couldn't say for sure one way or another, so the best he could offer was to repeat, "I'm here now."

She pulled away and looked at him.

"Yeah." They stared at each other for several moments.

Years separated them, and at times he felt like a lecherous old man, even though he was only seventeen to her nearly twelve. At other times he had to remind himself she wasn't even in her teens yet.

In the time he'd been gone, two more boys, twins, had joined her family. He hadn't been there for that. He was amazed at her pragmatism. She understood that her newest siblings would be the center of her parents' universe for a while, and patiently abided by the stringent rules they had placed on her, rules that her elder brothers had never had to follow.

Maybe not 'patiently,' he amended, but she had seemed to accept it as something she couldn't change, merely because she was a girl and therefore viewed as someone to protect.

That he could understand, but it had nothing to do with the fact that she was a girl.

"You'll go back eventually," she said.

"Think so?"

"Know so."

They were quiet for a moment.

"I can't believe you tried to hit me with your shoe."

"Almost did," she bragged.

They shared a light chuckle, trying to shift the mood to something light and upbeat. Something in their Now, rather than their past or future.

"Soooo, Niisaaaaan..." that tone of voice was always trouble. He didn't have to prompt her, knowing the punch line was coming.

"Was it good for you, too?"//

~~~~~~

God, Heero thought. She'd always seemed so much older than her years, and yet she always managed to make him feel younger, even playful. His current thoughts were jumbled, random. It was like trying to force a caged animal back into its prison, once the door had been left unlocked and it nudged its way out.

By the time she turned thirteen, he was already starting his junior year of college. He'd opted to enroll at Gibbs at the ripe old age of sixteen, but once he was old enough to legally make his own decisions, he'd transferred to Mt. Sierra. His parents had frowned at both choices, but he wasn't interested in attending an Ivy League school.

He'd thought of pointedly reminding his mother how sadly lacking American education was, and how it would just be a waste of money to pursue a degree on the assumption that more money equaled a better education, but he feared that he'd be sent to Tokyo University for his cheek if he did that. His father had expected him to pursue a degree in law, but he'd feared that he'd only be sucked into the business in Osaka and never get out if he did that.

His mother seemed more accepting of his choices than his father, who still seemed torn between familial obligations overseas and those right there in Berkeley Heights.

Would he have blithely gone along with his family's wishes for his future, never giving a thought to what he wanted, if not for the girl that had become his surrogate sister? He smiled, a small, sad smile, as he thought of that day she'd thrown her shoes at him. After that, it became part and parcel of who she was, as well as a representation of their relationship. She never acted like that around her own flesh and blood, but then, the same was true for him.

She'd picked up a rather crude sense of humor from her brothers, who didn't always remember to curb their tongues around their only sister. It horrified him that she probably knew far more about the mechanics of male-female relations back then than he did when he was twice that age. He hoped fervently that he was worrying needlessly about her precociousness, then remembered that it didn't matter anymore.

'Was it good for you, too?'

Was it?

The demanding voice in his head now sounded suspiciously like the one he'd heard just hours before. It should have been a simple question, but there was no easy answer for it.

Was it good for YOU, Duo?

Did he even care?

He looked at the sky again, then turned and walked to the loveseat. The loveseat that was fast becoming a shrine to his lack of adherence to his principles.

He winced. What principles? He had to stop thinking about her. Every time he did so, he was filled with melancholy. Regret. Doubt. Shame.

He should just sleep on the damned loveseat, seeing as it had been the site of so many signs of weakness these past few days.

No. What he SHOULD do is just leave. This time no one would stop him. He walked over to the blond wig that was still hanging off the back of one of the chairs and picked it up. His fingers unconsciously stroked the platinum colored strands as he debated his next move.

~~~~~~~~

Duo woke feeling ridiculously pleased with himself. He turned his head toward Heero and frowned.

Heero was facing away from him, his body curled into itself so his rumpled brown hair was barely visible over his hunched shoulders. A spare sheet he must have obtained from the linen drawer was wrapped around his body. It didn't seem as if it would be possible to increase the space that lie between them.

For some reason it bothered him slightly.

He shrugged off the unfamiliar feelings that Heero's body language was causing and swung his legs off the bed. He stood and stretched, then gave in to the temptation to glance at Heero one more time before heading into the bathroom.

He didn't want to think too much about why he felt he needed to jerk himself off while he showered.

tbc

~~~~~~

Regarding the issue of quality methods in Japan vs. the United States:

A mathematical physicist by the name of W. Edwards Deming (1900-1993) was indeed sent by the US to Japan, in 1946 and again in 1948, to assess agricultural production and other problems in the aftermath of WWII.

He was invited back to Japan circa 1950 to teach several courses in statistical methods and served as an advisor and consultant for Japanese industry.

He is sometimes described in rather lofty terms, such as the father of the Japanese post-war industrial revival, and is sometimes viewed as a bit of a Japanese folk hero, although I'm not sure whose viewpoint that refers to.

On the other hand, the US abandoned Deming's methods after the war and has taken much longer to pay attention to the heart of his teachings.

Fast forward thirty years to a little television special called "If Japan Can, Why Can't We?" and you get the gist of what happened. Japan stuck with the methods Deming has introduced, embraced them, in fact, and made them part of the industrial culture. The US, on the other hand, who was responsible for sending Deming to assist Japan after the war, didn't see the long-range benefits at the time, and later looked to the Japanese for the secret to their successfully changing the world's perception of their export products after the war.

I found the irony pretty funny when I was a graduate statistics student.

As for the role of women in Japanese society, I only know that it isn't as bad as the Western world often perceives it, and that the woman rules the roost in the home because men are simply not there due to their jobs. I don't know how it is today, but I know that it was often frowned upon for a mother to join the workforce because that meant she was neglecting the responsibilities of the home. I could go into more detail on this, but my info is outdated, and everything could be rebutted, I'm sure, by someone who knows what the hell they are talking about.

PHEW! I think the footnotes are longer than the entire chapter!