Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell ❯ Reiki ( Chapter 31 )

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 31/?

~~~~~~~

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhanger endings, red herrings, various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, occasionally explicit sex.

Rating: NC-17

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.

Archived at:

http://www.gundam-wing-diaries.150m.com/gw/Mookie/gwmookie.htm

ht tp://www.atsui.org

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

~~~~~~~

Chapter 31 - Reiki

Heero had always prided himself on his ability to take action when faced with insurmountable odds.

Mutually acknowledged selective amnesia, right?

He could work with that. Duo was obviously going to be receptive, because otherwise he would have chosen the bathroom furthest from this one.

Heero would have to improvise with what items were on hand, but in a hotel like this, he had no doubt that whatever he found would still be very high-end quality.

He dried off and wrapped a towel around his hips, then walked past Duo, who seemed almost fascinated with the draining water in the toilet. Heero wouldn't be surprised if Duo hadn't needed to use the bathroom at all.

Duo had an inquisitive mind. He'd be sure to follow. Given enough time, a mouse would brave the trap for the cheese.

You just had to figure out if the mouse preferred Roquefort or cheddar first.

Heero was fairly confident on that score.

~~~~~

Quatre wanted to hide behind the bar with Trowa when he saw Johnson enter the bar.

'Big' Johnson, as he'd insisted all the whores call him, had taken a break from female prostitutes a couple of months ago and started sniffing after Heero. Finally Heero agreed to take his money, but Johnson had been less than pleased when he realized Heero hadn't even gotten a hard-on. He'd taken it as a personal affront, which, knowing Heero, it probably was, and had tried to show his displeasure in a rather physical manner.

Heero had nearly broken the man's wrist, but had restrained himself, as he'd later told Quatre and Trowa, because he'd wanted to avoid having charges leveled against him. His contempt of the man was obvious, but he'd felt like that about everyone he accepted as a client. Although perhaps 'accepting' wasn't the right word for Heero.

Heero had stubbornly clung to his uke only role, and it worked in his favor, if attracting clients could be considered favorable. He was the dangerous looking one, and some men jumped at the chance to 'fuck him, and fuck him good,' as Johnson so crudely put it. Quatre, on the other hand, would not allow another man to penetrate him. He had hoped, on one occasion several months ago, to get over that little hangup, but nothing that had happened that night had gone the way he'd expected.

Quatre supposed his attraction lie at the extreme opposite end of the spectrum from Heero. His blond hair and large blue-green eyes made people think he was some kind of pure, wholesome, boy-next-door, and men exploring their need to be dominated were drawn to having someone who looked innocent be the one to take them. It was especially true for men who wanted to experiment with homosexuality, but were afraid to. He supposed they felt he was 'safe' in the same way everyone viewed Heero as 'dangerous.'

It bothered him. He hated being judged by the way he looked. Being kind-hearted and well-mannered back home had gotten him pegged as a queer, and that was ten times worse than earning the label because it was true. He'd gone out of his way to defy the stereotypes, giving up things he truly enjoyed if he thought they seemed girly, like playing the piano. Unless you were a drummer or a guitar player, musicians were treated like thespians. He didn't understand it. There was a world of difference between Billy Joel and Liberace.

Living just outside the Sin City did nothing to pave acceptance of 'alternative lifestyles.' Quatre had headed to San Francisco to see if it really was some kind of gay mecca, but Los Angeles was closer. Besides, Hollywood was full of celebrities coming out of the closet.

He really should have given more thought to how the hell he was going to earn a living when he got there, and he sure as hell should have made that decision based on more than an overwhelming feeling of spite. Spite towards whom, he was beginning to wonder. Seemed to be directed toward himself lately.

~~~~~

Meiran's face was flushed with laughter and a slight excess of alcohol by the time she finished her fourth beer. They'd tried beers from three different countries and gone from IPAs to stouts. Wufei managed to down more of the dark brown porter than Meiran had, and she hadn't been able to keep from making a face at the aftertaste.

Suddenly they both fell silent at the same time, and Meiran started picking at the label of her bottle.

He took one look around the bar. No one was paying attention to them.

He reached across the table and pulled her hands into his. The bottle she'd been toying with spun a few times but didn't tip over.

"When I started out as an attorney," he began, "I think I was under the impression I was going to save the world, from a legal standpoint."

She leaned forward in rapt attention as he talked.

He told her about the sense of fulfillment he had every time his client walked away a free man. She nodded, clearly remembering how things had been early in their marriage.

He told her how he'd prided himself on being able to judge the guilt or innocence of his clients. He would not accept a case if he thought he'd be setting a guilty man loose on the unsuspecting public.

Told her the entire story of that fateful day, when Treize Khushrenada had paraded one surprise witness after another. How the man had calmly torn apart Wufei's carefully constructed case. The way his client didn't look the tiniest bit apologetic that he'd not given Wufei all the information he needed to present a winning argument.

Losing the trial was a blow to his ego, but knowing his client had lied to him, and that he'd been so convinced of the man's innocence, had been a blow to his heart and soul. He had lost his ability to trust in anything. Himself, others. Even Meiran. Treize had become a symbol of all that he'd lost, not the actual source of the ache in his soul.

He'd quit his job shortly after that, but hadn't told Meiran right away. He just said he was thinking about it.

All the nights she worried he was considering pursuing an extramarital affair, he'd been trying to figure out what he was going to do with his life from that point on.

He hadn't realized until he saw the relief in her eyes that she'd actually suspected he might cheat on her.

That hurt even worse, until he recognized the disappointment in her eyes. Disappointment directed internally for even entertaining the idea that he might.

She'd known better, had trusted him, and had actually felt guilty for doubting him, when he'd given her nothing to base that trust on. Hadn't returned it.

"I'm sorry, Wufei," she said, squeezing the fingers that had entwined themselves with hers.

"You have nothing to apologize for," he said gruffly. "Trust is a two way street. My behavior at the time was abominable."

"You gave me a lifetime of reasons to trust you," she said, reminding him that they'd been friends long before he'd given her that first shy and awkward kiss.

He realized something, looking at her. She was incredibly beautiful. He'd always known she was physically attractive, but it was as if blinders had been removed from his eyes. He also noticed that the tight feeling in his gut, the one he thought might possibly be the beginnings of an ulcer, although he had refused to go to a doctor about it, was gone.

He freed one of his hands and brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes.

"One more round?" she said, her eyes holding a wealth of promises.

"You'll be under the table by then," he said, which was all she needed to hear to prompt her to prove him wrong.

"My turn to pick," she said, and got up. As she walked to the bar, he noticed that she was amazingly steady on her feet.

He hoped to change that later tonight.

~~~~~

Heero found what he was looking for in the room with the large sunken tub in it, and within minutes had a bath running. The hotel's liquid soap had a crisp clean scent, but Heero had wanted something a bit more soothing, so he opted for a moisturizing bath oil containing jasmine. It seemed as thought there were plenty of highly stressed hotel guests, because he saw a blend of rose, gardenia, and magnolia, too, for inner peace, according to the bottle. Too easy, he thought, setting that one aside.

Duo's use of the penthouse suite puzzled him. Duo did not own a car in LA, but rented, giving Heero reasons that sounded practical from a monetary point of view. But he had no compunctions about paying seven-and-a-half thousand dollars per night for a top-of-the-line room in what was one of most expensive hotels in all of Beverly Hills.

He'd recognized the aptness of Duo's name since Tuesday. Perhaps earlier than that. The man had a dual nature, and Heero was just starting to figure out what made up Duo and what made up one half of Maxwell-Chang Enterprises, Inc. Perhaps 'Trio' would have been a more fitting name, as it seemed there was a part that he couldn't recognize yet, even though the hints were there.

The part that had reacted violently to his defense of Relena Peacecraft, and yet had taken care to not suck hard enough to leave any telltale marks on his neck or chest. That suggested that Duo held a certain amount of respect for him.

He was running an arm through the water to test the temperature when the mouse decided to risk going after the cheese.

Heero tamped down a rather surprising urge to grin like a loon as he heard Duo's soft footsteps halt in the doorway.

Snap.

~~~~~

Lost in his reminiscing, Quatre didn't initially realize that Johnson had spotted him.

After Johnson had gone out of his way to tell everyone what a lousy lay Heero was, a ploy that did nothing to upset Heero or to hurt his business, he'd turned his attention to Quatre. Johnson had made it his mission to convince him to 'take it up the ass like a good boy.'

He would have been safe behind the bar, but he'd left Trowa on a bad note earlier.

You reap what you sow, Quatre.

He managed to hedge his way around some of the tables until he had a good view of the door. He glanced up at the security mirrors and then at Trowa, who was listening to a dark-haired woman.

The woman carried a couple of bottles over to one of the tables, and Johnson's attention was momentarily diverted by watching her ass as she walked.

Quatre thought he was home free and made a break for it.

Then Johnson's hand whipped out and grabbed his arm roughly.

"Playing hard to get, Quatre?" he leered, positioning his body to block the view of his hand squeezing the blond's groin briefly. "No, not yet," he laughed.

Quatre attempted to jerk his arm free without creating a scene. Like Heero, he'd put up with a fair amount of needless pawing to avoid police involvement. Unlike Heero, he couldn't intimidate with just a look.

Johnson's grip on his arm tightened, and Quatre wondered when his life had become a Lifetime movie. 'Rebellious teen runs away from home to become a hooker and finds life on the streets isn't all she'd dreamed.'

Tell me about it, sister, he thought wryly.

~~~~~

Wufei noticed the two men out of the corner of his eye. His lip curled in disgust as he realized the shorter one must be one of Heero's ilk.

What possessed these men to whore themselves he couldn't imagine.

Then he remembered what he'd done to his own ideals and had to acknowledge that Meiran had been right.

Which was worse, selling your body, or your beliefs?

He glanced at Meiran, whose eyes were starting to glaze over, although her smile was wide. If he didn't know her, he wouldn't suspect that she was three sheets to the wind right now. Meiran hadn't had a drink since they graduated college. In fact, if he'd just wandered into the bar, he'd have mistaken her for a university student. Her casual attire and pleasantly relaxed features reminded him of a much younger Meiran.

His soul was not for sale, he realized. If ever he decided it was not worth keeping, he knew someone who would cherish it.

Almost without thinking, he got up from the chair and walked over to the two men.

And the selling of one's body was not going to happen on his watch, either.

Sorry, buddy.

~~~~~

Heero stood up and let the towel fall to the floor. With his back toward Duo, he picked it up and folded it several times, then placed it on the tiled floor behind the tub. He finally turned toward Duo and knelt on the impromptu cushion he'd created.

Duo didn't need to be told twice. He moved slowly, with a bit of hesitation, and climbed into the tub. He turned his back to Heero and slowly let his body sink beneath the warm water.

Heero poured some of the bath oil into his hand and rubbed his palms together vigorously.

He'd been told he was very good at this, not that he'd ever doubted himself. He placed his hands on Duo's shoulders, sliding his fingers outward and bringing his thumbs together.

He began kneading the heels of his hands at the top of Duo's spine, and this time he allowed the briefest of smiles to curl his upper lip when Duo leaned his head forward and pulled his braid into the water in front of him, providing Heero with greater access.

When the body was at ease, Heero thought, slowly working his way down Duo's back, the mind was more inclined to follow.

~~~~~

It happened so fast, Wufei had no time to blink.

One minute, he had pried the big oaf's hand off the male whore's arm, and in the next, he found himself pushed up against the wall, a hand threatening to cut off his oxygen. He had barely had time to catch the flash of movement when the bartender had flown over the bar to intervene.

He looked into a pair of blazing green eyes and attempted to demand what was going on, but he couldn't draw in enough of a breath to do so. If he'd been expecting it, he probably could have held his own, but the man was damned fast.

His captor broke eye contact to glare at the real assailant, who was nursing either a bloody nose or a black eye.

"Trowa," a quiet voice said. "Trowa, I'm all right. He was only trying to help."

The bartender, Trowa, Wufei's fading consciousness reminded him, slowly released him.

Meiran had remained uninvolved, but looked at him with shining eyes. She was smart enough to stay out of it, perhaps overly confident in his abilities to handle the situation. He might have appreciated her losing her temper for a change when it came time to haul off and punch someone whose last name WASN'T Chang, though.

Trowa turned to Johnson and looked at him with contempt.

"You are banned from this establishment," he said coldly. "Get out before I call the police."

Johnson was outraged. He wanted to tell Trowa to go right ahead, because he'd been the one attacked. He also would love nothing more than to get the cops involved. The blond would be sure to go to jail, and he'd find out the hard way what it was like to get fucked up the ass. At least he would have paid the bitch.

But he also knew that if he were caught, chances were good they'd do a bit of investigating into his background, and find things in his past that he hadn't yet paid his dues to society for. His prints were on file, after all.

Trowa had no way of knowing for sure, but the look in his eyes suggested he'd cheerfully do more than drive his nose into his skull if he so much as protested.

He could promise himself to wait for a time when he could accost Quatre outside the bar, but with the way his luck was running, he'd run into the blond's nameless, frigid, slut friend.

Psychos, all of them. And he'd known quite a few, so he felt confident in his assessment.

He settled for leveling a glare at everyone who had been witness to his humiliation, and walked out.

He wouldn't really be violating his parole as long as he didn't cross state borders. Maybe he'd head toward Fresno this time. He'd heard it was nice there this time of year.

~~~~~

Meiran's eyes were wide as she stared at her husband. Wufei ran a hand over his throat, and received an ambiguous look and a shrug from the bartender. He assumed that was an apology of sorts.

He was surprised to see the man do nothing more than return to his position behind the bar, ignoring the blond man whose defense Wufei had sworn he'd just come to.

Perhaps he just didn't like to see altercations in his pub. He had vaulted over the bar like it was a frequent occurrence.

This was exactly why he avoided places like this. Public displays of any kind made him uncomfortable.

He looked at Meiran again, and was stunned at the expression on her face. She looked downright worshipful.

He reached a hand to her, and she accepted it, then he pulled her to her feet. The beers he'd consumed earlier warmed him as he brought her body flush against hers.

He could always blame his high blood alcohol content. He put a hand to the side of her face, closed his eyes, and kissed her.

He should have been embarrassed, but then she returned the kiss with enthusiasm.

The years seemed to slip away, and his arms went around her. Either the sight of two people engaged in a passionate lip lock was common enough here that it was nothing to garner attention, or he simply didn't care.

Some things were of secondary importance.

Of primary importance was the feeling that he was falling in love with his wife all over again.

~~~~~

Heero watched Duo's body language and waited for the right moment to alter his position from kneeling to sitting on the edge of the tile with his feet in the water. It made his massage less effective, at least in terms of releasing the tension in Duo's muscles, but it had the desired effect. Duo was not rebuffing the almost accidental contact Heero's bare legs made with his body.

Several minutes later Duo moved forward enough to enable Heero to slip into the water behind him. His hands moved to Duo's lower back, and Heero would swear he heard Duo sigh.

Nonverbal cues were often ambiguous, but Duo's very nature seemed a study in ambiguity.

Eventually his knuckles stopped pressing into Duo's back and he moved his hands around to Duo's abdomen. He wrapped his arms around Duo and rested his chin on the other man's shoulder.

One of Duo's hands came up to cover Heero's, and the two of them were content to sit there, not speaking, until the water cooled.

~~~~~

Quatre stared at the gauze that was unraveling from his hand as he held the drink aloft.

The man who Trowa had assaulted and his female companion had just left. Johnson was gone. People were paying him no attention. Perfect time to slip out and get back home.

The amber liquid beckoned him. Heero had looked at his drinks that way often, before he'd started turning tricks. What had Heero seen in the golden depths when he had that look on his face? Shattered dreams, a destroyed past, forsaken hope?

The glass was removed from his hand and set down on the table with a firm thunk.

He turned in his chair and glared at Trowa, who had the slightest look of disapproval on his face.

He hadn't sorted out how he'd felt about being treated like a damsel in distress, and Trowa's presence wasn't helping matters just yet.

"You don't drink," Trowa said in that annoyingly calm voice of his. "Said it 'makes things worse,'" he added, illustrating with the well-known gesture for quotation marks.

Quatre seethed. It was just like Trowa to act like nothing had happened. First he thinks he has the right to interfere with a possible business transaction, forget that he'd not give Johnson the time of day even if he were starving. Now he thought he could dictate whether or not Quatre could indulge in any vices? He reached for the glass out of sheer obstinacy, only to have Trowa cover it with one hand.

Not a chance.

He stood up and glared at Trowa for all he was worth.

"You're not my mother," he growled. "Nor my lover."

Trowa's eyes darkened, and he grabbed Quatre's wrist before the blond could repeat the disappearing act he'd been cultivating. Quatre wondered if it had been a conscious move on Trowa's part to choose the hand that had been holding the glass a moment ago.

"That's right, Quatre, I'm not." His eyes were nearly black now. "So were you ever going to tell me that you fucked Heero?"

tbc

~~~~~

The chapter title, reiki, typically refers to Reiki (sometimes capitalized, other times, not). To oversimplify things, it's a spiritual or energy healing method, often translated as "universal life force energy." The word can also be translated as an established rule, a chill, an electrical excitation, or an aura in general.