Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell ❯ Red Threads ( Chapter 32 )

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 32/?

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I think I need a good stiff drink after this chapter. It wiped me out. ENJOY!

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

Rating: NC-17

Spoilers: None for GW, and I'm now quite convinced almost nada 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. Don't own any movies mentioned in this chapter.

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

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

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Chapter 32 - Red Threads

//Quatre had finally given up trying to hustle any customers when he headed for The Bar. It had been a long unproductive night, at least in terms of plying his so-called trade.

He'd gotten halfway there when he felt something. He frowned, looking around. It was as if someone had brushed past him, but no one had come all that close to him.

He brushed his arm to rid himself of the feeling, but it did nothing to help.

He'd thought this shit only happened when he drank. Maybe he was coming down with something.

His feet led him down an alley, and it wasn't until he reached the dumpster when his mind caught up with him. What the hell had he been thinking? He knew better than to put himself in a position of vulnerability like this.

Then he heard it. A soft unmistakable click.

He cursed his curiosity and hoped it didn't get him killed.

He peered around the dumpster and saw the figure in shadows, slumped against the wall. He had one arm wrapped around himself with his hand shoved into his jacket. The other hand dangled lifelessly at his side.

Alarms were going off in Quatre's brain, but he approached the man anyway.

"Are you OK?"

The man didn't seem to realize he was there, whispering to himself and shivering. Quatre thought he heard something about blood.

"Are you hurt? Bleeding? Were you stabbed?" He looked around again to see if anyone else was in the alley.

He hadn't expected the harsh laughter that he got in response. It made him take a step back. He was tempted to turn and leave, and pretend he'd never been lured between the two buildings by some quirk of fate.

"My fault," the man whispered. "Wasn't there when I should have been. Lied to her."

If there was one thing Quatre knew quite well, it was self-loathing.

He was still pretty good at making a convincing argument, so he took a deep breath and started talking.//

~~~~~

"Where do you people go to meet each other?" Duo asked suddenly.

"We people?"

"You know. Gays."

"Ah," Heero said. "Well, first we go to the pub on thoroughbred gerbil racing nights and lament the waste. Then we play disco music and paint each other's toenails. The person whose foot is in your lap when the Village People track comes on is yours for the night. Except during a leap year when it's the night of a new moon."

Duo turned around and gave him a half-hearted glare, and Heero couldn't help smiling that little half-smile of his before Duo settled back between his legs.

"Why do you assume I'm some expert on gay culture?" he asked.

"Don't you need to know that sort of thing?"

"Why? Because I'm a whore?"

"NO! Because...because you're gay!"

"I never said that."

This time Duo turned full around and stared at him. "But you were...you said...what was with that 'for five hundred bucks I'll change your mind' shit you fed me Sunday night?"

Heero motioned for him to turn back around and sit, which he did so reluctantly. He had no doubt Heero was going to be stubborn if he didn't.

"I didn't say I wasn't gay, either. Duo, not everyone comes out of the womb knowing which sex they'd most like to fuck."

"Are you?" Duo's voice held a hint of anxiety.

Heero wanted to ask him if it weren't obvious, considering that Duo had managed to bring him to orgasm on more than one occasion, but he had a feeling that wasn't what he needed to hear right now.

"Yes, Duo. I'm gay. I used to think perhaps I was bisexual, but I'm definitely leaning toward the fag end of the spectrum."

Despite Heero's deliberate teasing, Duo felt a wave of relief wash over him. The idea that he'd been reevaluating his entire sexuality, only to find out that the man responsible was straight, was unthinkable.

He supposed that Heero had a point. In his 'line of work' his own tastes would often come second, and men were more inclined to pay for sex than women were. He wondered at the assumption that hookers actually enjoyed the sex.

That reminded him of something Heero had said that first day.

"Do you really have female...'clients?'" he asked.

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't do penetration. I told you that. Uke only. With women, there is only one way to have sex, regardless if you enter vaginally or anally." Duo could feel Heero shrug. "Granted, there is oral sex, but cunnilingus is just as perilous in terms of contracting sexually transmitted diseases. I don't mind a condom in my mouth when I'm sucking someone off, but I won't wear a dental dam."

That hadn't exactly been the answer Duo was looking for, but it did make him wonder why Heero had set up all these rules for himself. The kissing rule he hated to admit he could understand, having told Heero as much earlier in the week, but to turn down an opportunity to fuck women for money? It had to be easier than taking it up the ass on a regular basis. Heero's explanations and precautions regarding STDs seemed almost contradictory to his actions at other times. Fuck me hard enough to make me bleed, but wear a condom. Don't kiss me, but make sure you prepare me first so that I don't tear.

"Besides," Heero said. "It's just wrong to treat a woman like nothing more than a vessel."

Duo wasn't quite sure how he felt about that.

~~~~~

The cell phone was ringing. Sally cracked open her eyes and fumbled for it in the dark, nearly sending it skittering across the nightstand and under the bed before her fingers closed around it. She pulled it under the covers with her.

"Po." Her voice was still muzzy with sleep.

"Sally! I'm sorry to call you so late..."

"Not that late," she said, clearing her throat. "Just been a long day." The clock's face glowed 10:03. So it was seven o'clock, Iria's time.

"I was so caught up with the inconclusive test results, I forgot to tell you what I'd found on the medical side of things."

Sally sat up. Her partner had noticed that, too, not long after the conversation with Iria had ended, but they both knew that there was no point in trying to contact Iria right away. Finally Sally had decided to call it a night and had headed to the furnished apartment she was using during her temporary assignment.

"The drug is undetectable, but it's already out there. We've gotten patients in the E/R exhibiting symptoms, but tests come back negative on any signs of substance abuse."

"Do you know if it's restricted to just the Vegas area?"

"Difficult to say," Iria replied. "Anything goes in Las Vegas, and there are so many damn tourists, it's next to impossible to determine if it's been here all along or is trickling in."

"Any colleagues of yours that you recommend I contact on this side of the country?"

"Let me get back to you on that. I know it's not very much to go on, but I wanted to let you know in case it sends your investigation in a different direction."

"Acknowledged," Sally said. "Your assistance is invaluable, as always, Iria."

"I'll call you tomorrow."

"Roger."

Sally hung up the phone and tossed it to the foot of the bed. Next time it rang, she'd kick it to the floor.

Hell. No, she wouldn't. Unfortunately she shared her partner's dedication to their investigation. She'd be glad to have something concrete, something that would enable more resources to be allocated to the case.

Without evidence, it was just another rumor. Maybe these E/R patients would be the piece they needed to get things kicked into a higher gear.

She pulled the pillow over her head. She should have listened to her father and stayed in med school.

~~~~~

Meiran couldn't keep her hands off him once they'd managed to hail a taxi. She didn't quite climb into his lap, but he was beginning to think she might.

He knew once they got back to the apartment, there wouldn't be much talking going on, and for the most part, he was all talked out.

He did, however, want to tell her one thing. Her lips at his ear made it very hard for him to remember what it was, though.

"Meiran," he said, his voice shaky. "I am so very sorry."

"Mmm," she said, nuzzling his neck. "I look forward to your making it up to me."

He closed his eyes. Another couple of beers and he might have been tempted to straddle her here in the back of the cab. Wasn't the woman the one who was expected to put the brakes on lust? He didn't want to be the one to act responsibly. Not now.

"That stupid car." He ended on a groan as Meiran actually placed her hand between his legs and kneaded his crotch.

He was trying to be noble, and his wife was making him very hard. IT, his mind laughed hysterically. She was making IT very hard. DIFFICULT! She was making it very difficult to be noble.

How the hell far was it to the apartment, anyway?

"I'll sell the car," he blurted out. "I know you've always hated it as an obscene waste of resources. I know that the money could be spent on bettering...THINGS." She had just pinched one of his nipples through his shirt.

"Meiran!" he hissed, glancing at their driver, who seemed to not notice anything amiss.

"We can use the money to HELP-" he lost his train of thought as she slid her hand under his shirt.

"Go on," she said. She was LAUGHING at him. "To help whom?"

"To help...whoever it is that you think needs it."

She pulled her hand away and sat next to him, looking prim and proper with her hands folded into her lap, except for her mussed hair and rumpled shirt.

"Whomever I say needs it, right?"

"Yes."

She moved away from him on the seat, leaned her back against the door and turned to face him.

"Wufei, would you say that the money you spent on 'that stupid car' has put a significant dent in our bank accounts?"

He shook his head. Of course he didn't. The car was the envy of almost everyone, but he'd never have spent over half a million dollars on it if he'd thought it even remotely possible that it would come back and bite him in the ass.

She leaned over the seat, resting one hand on his leg. He didn't trust the predatory look on her face.

"I know who needs help. Help that only that car can provide."

He swallowed. What was she up to, and would it involve his being humiliated at some sort of fund raising dunk-the-CEO booth or some other such nonsense? She didn't expect him to use the Enzo as a meals-on-wheels delivery vehicle, did she?

She slid her hand up his thigh slowly and pressed her lips to his ear.

"Duo didn't really christen the backseat, you know."

He hadn't thought so, either, but he'd been so furious at the idea that Duo was allowing himself to be played the fool, he hadn't given the comment a second thought. Until now.

"Ever do it in a million dollar car before?" she whispered.

He hadn't, but if the taxi driver didn't get them home soon, he was almost positive he was going to in a Checker Cab.

~~~~~

//Quatre nearly fainted from relief when he'd managed to convince the dark-haired man to accompany him the few blocks to the bar.

He signaled Trowa to bring over a couple of beers, deciding the stranger could use something to drink, but not wanting to give him anything stronger. Besides, he knew how well a few sips could loosen lips. In vino veritas.

The stranger was reticent the whole time they were there, but Trowa had been remarkably unsurprised when Quatre invited the man to his apartment. Had merely taken a good long look at the brooding figure and seemed satisfied with whatever he was searching for.

When they arrived at the apartment, Quatre had seated him on the couch, on the cushion that wasn't covering the broken spring. Then Quatre had crouched next to him and touched his arm tentatively.

The man looked up at him, his eyes full of anguish. Before Quatre realized what he was doing, he'd leaned toward the stranger, steadying himself with one hand on the arm of the sofa, and kissed him.//

~~~~~

Duo finally got out of the tub, the tips of his fingers wrinkled and his skin cold. He chose to walk back to the bathroom inside the main bedroom for a quick shower. He had to wash his hair and wanted to have his own conditioner for that.

It had nothing to do with the fact that he was beginning to associate the way it smelled with Heero.

While Duo showered, Heero did no more than stand under a cool spray of water in the room with the tub, just long enough to rinse the bath water from his skin.

Things would never be the same after the week was over, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. It felt like he'd spent a lifetime within the penthouse suite of the Regent Beverly Wilshire. Perhaps he had. A mayfly lived its entire life in a span of twenty-four hours. He wasn't a mayfly, but perhaps...perhaps he was more a pupal danaus plexippus.

Kitty would be laughing her ass off if she could only hear him now.

The pang in his heart wasn't quite so bad this time.

~~~~~

"How...how did you know?"

Trowa released his grip on Quatre's wrist.

"I'd like to say that I didn't, and you just told me," he said. "But it's been obvious you've been in love with him since he started fucking for money." He gave Quatre a once over.

"Isn't that about the time you'd stopped?"

"Trowa..."

The taller man's face was completely impassive, his eyes shuttered and no longer the jungle green shade they'd darkened to moments before.

"It was an accident!"

He thought he detected a hint of disbelief in Trowa's expression, and hurriedly tried to explain.

"He was...a gaping wound, Trowa!"

"And fucking is your way of helping people."

Quatre frowned. Hadn't Trowa just acknowledged his feelings for Heero? It hadn't been like that.

He had been beating himself up ever since it happened, regretting his suggestion that he be the first one to take Heero, wanting Heero to enjoy it, just once, before he peddled his ass on the street.

It had been clear that he and Heero were talking about two entirely different things that first night. And it all started with that damn kiss.

~~~~~

//It was the briefest brush of lips, chaste in its brevity, but no less meaningful to Quatre.

He leaned back and blinked, completely stupefied that he'd done that.

The dark-haired man touched his lips curiously.

"Why did you do that?"

His voice was deep and sent a spike of lust through Quatre's entire body. He stood up, not trusting himself to look into the stranger's pained blue eyes.

"I couldn't help myself," he said honestly. He walked into the kitchen. "Can I get you something to drink?" he asked, desperate for something to do to distract him from the temptation on the sofa.

"What are you hiding from?"

Quatre froze, one hand on the refrigerator handle. He was afraid to turn around.

"Excuse me?"

"You're running from something."

The man had just met him, and knew more about him than those with whom he'd shared an intimate act.

An intimate act that was so far removed from any sort of real intimacy, it was laughable.

"How do you get by?"

That question he could answer. It was safer than the alternative. He ignored the part of his brain that knew what the question really meant, and chose to answer the one he was comfortable with.

"Sex, baby," he said, the words sounding hollow to his own ears.

"What's your name?"

"Quatre. Quatre Raberba." He bit his tongue before he gave any more than that away. Fortunately his middle name was unusual enough that it could very well have been his surname.

He thought for a moment he might have to ask the same question in return, but then the stranger offered the information freely.

"Heero," he said. "You can call me Heero."

And Quatre knew then that he'd been entrusted with something the man would not provide just anyone. Not yet.

The question was, how much more would Heero trust him?//

~~~~~

As soon as the door to their apartment was closed, Meiran plastered herself against Wufei, and he pressed her against the door, their kisses hot and open mouthed.

"You're drunk," he said in between gasps of air.

"Not that drunk," she returned, demonstrating her coordination by deftly unbuttoning his shirt.

He pulled away from her, and as he'd expected, her hands followed him. They stripped each other of every layer of clothing, shedding each article as they made their way to the bedroom.

"You were amazing. You ARE amazing," she said, running her fingers over his chest once they'd reached the edge of bed.

"Meiran," he said. "I love you."

Her eyes showed how much hearing him say that meant to her, but she surprised him by saying, "you'd better."

"I'm sorry, Meiran, for everything that's been going on this week," he blurted out. "It's just that..." she was kissing his ear again. Damn it, the woman KNEW that was one of his sensitive spots.

"Duo..." he tried again.

She bit the lobe gently. It seemed to be a new habit of hers, but he wasn't complaining.

"There is no room for anyone except the two of us in this bed," she said. "No Duo. No Milliardo Peacecraft. Just you and me. Duo is a big boy." She slid one hand down his chest until she reached his groin.

"But I'm only interested in making one particular boy...BIG."

He pushed her onto the bed. He'd show her who was a 'boy.' Before the sun came up, she'd know she'd been in bed with a man.

And this time, he would believe it himself.

~~~~~

Heero dressed himself in a pair of loose drawstring pants that were provided by the hotel, and would most likely show up on Duo's bill, and walked into the central room of the suite.

He looked at Duo's laptop, and then at the carrying case containing the portable one he'd designed. His feet carried him to the balcony again.

Things were spinning out of control, but he still felt that, all in all, there was only one inevitable conclusion. He'd do his best to make the journey there bearable, although whether it would be bearable for himself or for Duo, he wasn't quite sure.

He was going to have to face up to what had happened with Quatre, too.

He'd appreciated it. Had even enjoyed it. He'd known that had been Quatre's intent. He had really been horrified when Heero announced that he was going to try to follow in Quatre's footsteps, as it were.

When he realized Heero was completely serious, he'd looked him straight in the eye and decided there was no changing his mind.

"Let me make it good for you, just once," he'd said.

Duo had wanted to make it good for him, too. What was it that made him capitulate at those words when said by some people, but not by others?

For the longest time, Kitty had been the only one who seemed interested in his well being. His parents didn't count. Parents were supposed to look out for their children. It wasn't optional.

He shook his head. Easy for him to say. His parents had always been supportive, even when he defied their expectations. There was a mutual respect between them, and he knew that he'd often taken it for granted. They'd want to disown him if they knew what he was doing now, but he knew they wouldn't.

His relationship with Kitty was different. He didn't have to love her. He didn't have to protect her. Didn't have to learn Spanish for her.

He'd WANTED to do all those things.

Heero wasn't the type of person to get close to people. His upbringing had been unconventional, he supposed. His mother was the more demonstrative of his parents, but she'd also been afraid of making him too dependent on others, wanting him able to stand on his own and avoid throwing his life away for something as fleeting as love.

He hadn't known until just last year that that fear was a result of her own brother's actions, who had dropped out of college and eloped the year she'd entered high school.

His parents' backgrounds were so dissimilar, it sometimes surprised Heero that they'd ever gotten together. However, despite what his mother felt on the topic of love and affection, it was clear that his parents were deeply in love. He'd caught the occasional glimpse of them sharing a look of tenderness so strong it made his heart ache.

He felt ashamed at those moments, feeling as if he'd cultivated his relationship with Kitty just to have someone for whom HE cared just as much.

Kitty would never have allowed it, he admitted. She would have seen right through him. He HAD cared for her. Ever since her parents had come home from the hospital with their new baby wrapped in swaddling, Heero had been enthralled. When Kitty's mom saw his open mouthed look of fascination as he stood in his front yard gaping, she'd invited him to come over so she could introduce him to Esperanza Candida Vargas Milagro.

He'd been taken by surprise at the length of the name, having only two of his own. It wasn't until years later that he'd understood the tradition behind Latin American surnames. To further confuse him, Esperanza was the only child in the Vargas Milagro family that had a 'middle' name.

He remembered the day she'd tried to get him to tell her what 'Heero' meant, and he realized he wasn't really sure himself, his parents having chosen an unconventional spelling for it.

~~~~~

//"What do you mean, you don't know? You know everything!"

He shook his head. "Not everything, Kitty-chan."

As he'd expected, she was easily distracted by the unfamiliar form of address.

"What?"

"Kitty-chan."

"What does that mean?"

He explained the use of the affectionate 'honorific' and then was forced to explain the concept behind those.

"It's a means of showing respect or affection when addressing someone," he said. "For example, calling your father Señor Vargas. My father would be addressed as either Yuy-san, or Yuy-sama, depending on where you fall hierarchically."

She rolled her eyes. "So which one means you're all hoity-toity?"

He shook his head. "It's not really about someone acting superior," he said. "It's just a way of according respect."

"So if I just want to address him as Mr. Yuy?"

"Yuy-san."

"What about you, 'Niisan? Are you Yuy-san?"

He laughed. "Not to you, I'm afraid."

She seemed quite pleased with that answer, but looked at him suspiciously when he continued, "although you can call me Yuy-sama anytime."

"I am DEFINITELY not going to call you that," she huffed. "So if you were to guess, what would you say your name meant? I'm only asking you to take a guess."

She could be tenacious when she got an idea in her head.

"Hmmm. Well, hiro could mean hero," he began, laughing at the way she rolled her eyes. She always seemed so disappointed at Japanese words that were too much like their English counterparts. "Hirou...wickedness and vulgarity."

She smacked him. "You can do better than that."

"I'm not making this up."

"Puh-LEEZE," she said. "As if...YUY-SAN...would name his son something like that."

His eyes danced with laughter. "It could mean fatigue, or weariness." She scowled at that one. "Or a fathom." That got another roll of the eyes. "Could also mean an opening of one's heart."

She waved a hand to show she had heard enough.

"So you are a wicked, vulgar, really DEEP hero possessing an open heart. Got it."

He laughed when she added, "so if it's all the same, I think I'll just keep calling you 'Niisan."//

~~~~~

Since then, he hadn't spent that much time analyzing a name until meeting Duo.

He turned from the balcony and headed for the loveseat. Where else was he going to sit? The damn thing should be bronzed for all it had endured so far this week.

Many of the adjectives he'd given Kitty when she'd asked for a literal translation of his name could apply to Duo as well.

Wicked and vulgar? When the occasion called for it. Fatigued? Duo threw himself into his work, that much was obvious. Deep? Most certainly. He might even be willing to concede the hero part, considering that Duo sometimes seemed to be operating on a sense of saving Heero from...from what, he wasn't sure, but now and then, Heero would swear that was Duo's intent, even though there was precious little to base that on.

As for last...

The jury was still out on that one.

~~~~~

Trowa remained unconvinced, and Quatre felt he was fighting a losing battle. Trowa had a hell of a nerve, to act like he had any right to dictate how he felt.

"Maybe I do love him," he said. "And maybe I did want to get in his pants. The guy screams sex, if you hadn't noticed."

Trowa's eyes narrowed, and Quatre wanted to bite his lip. Don't antagonize the straight, he thought unfairly. Trowa had never treated him, or Heero, like they were beneath him. At least he hadn't until recently, and all his animosity was aimed at Quatre.

Why was Trowa so upset about the situation with Heero? Quatre would have thought he'd be happy that at least once, his friends had managed to have sex, to 'make love,' because they'd wanted it, and not because they were getting paid.

And he had wanted it. He'd wanted it so much he could taste it. He'd only been half kidding when he suggested that, if Heero was so gung-ho on the whole streetwalker thing, that he at least initiate himself into it with someone who could 'show him the ropes.' He'd wanted it so very badly, the thought alone had him rock hard in seconds.

When Heero had turned those heart-melting eyes on him and said, "OK," Quatre had stopped breathing.

He'd hadn't been kidding when he'd said he wanted to show Heero how good it could feel, but he'd also forced himself to explain to him how to insure he was properly prepared prior to having sex and what precautions were needed.

After that, he'd wanted Heero to return the favor, but that's when Heero had announced that he was going to take the submissive role only. Quatre wasn't sure if Heero knew he had just been about to ask Heero to take him, or if Heero had decided that he'd learned enough, or if there was some reason known only to Heero for his pronouncement.

With his clients, Quatre had never enjoyed sex the way he had with Heero. It had been so different, doing it with someone he cared for. He'd barely known Heero for a week, but he'd known from the moment just before he kissed him that their lives were inexplicably intertwined.

He supposed it was because he was still young that he'd thought he'd found that special someone. He had suspected that perhaps Heero was straight, but when he'd agreed to let Quatre take him, and had responded so enthusiastically, he'd known then that Heero had just discovered he was not entirely heterosexual.

Having shown Heero what lovemaking could be between two men, and finding out for himself as well, had sent him head over heels in love.

Why couldn't Trowa understand that?

~~~~~

Duo rubbed a generous amount of conditioner into his hair and then ran his fingers through it from scalp to ends, wincing as he hit a snag. Fortunately the braid went a long way in keeping the hair from getting knotted.

He wondered, not for the first time, why he didn't just cut it all off.

There was really no reason to keep it this long. He'd grown it out in his teens as a show of defiance against his mother, and then had become rather fond of the attention it got him from the girls at school.

He also realized it gave people a distinct first impression, and they tended to underestimate him, assuming that he was somehow weak or feminine.

Obviously those people hadn't heard of Samson.

But Duo had, and he knew better than to avoid getting involved with Delilah.

His hair was a major pain most of the time, but that didn't mean he hated it. Sometimes it took a lot of work, more work that he wanted to put into it at times, but in the end he still had a head of hair that made most women green with envy.

That wasn't why he refused to cut it, but it was nice to see the expressions on their faces. Half of them wanted nothing more than the opportunity to see Duo wearing nothing more than his unbound hair.

He thought of Janet's comment the other day and actually felt himself blush, something he hadn't done when he'd walked in on that conversation.

The girl had surprised him. She was nothing like what he'd expected. She looked and acted like a complete twit at first glance, but her mind was sharp and she was damned intuitive, too. Now that his anger at the news she'd imparted earlier had abated somewhat, he could see that she'd taken a chance of looking foolish by telling them of Milliardo Peacecraft's little lunchtime run-in.

She'd known it was important somehow. Duo respected that. Sometimes when he and Wufei were sitting on the fence over how they wanted a deal to progress, it was Duo who trusted his instincts.

How had he not noticed earlier that he was the one who made those decisions? Wufei was confident as hell when the facts were clear, but if it came to acting on a hunch, the man yielded to Duo.

It was so out of character for Wufei, Duo was stunned to realize how long that had been going on.

He would be glad when the weekend was over and he was back on his way to New York. He was beginning to regret ever hearing the name "Peacecraft."

After he'd showered and thrown on a robe, he found Heero sitting on the loveseat, one leg bent at the knee with the foot almost resting in his lap.

He looked so casual and relaxed, it was hard to remember the reasons he was here in the first place.

How bad would it be to pretend, just for one night, that the rest of the week hadn't happened?

He picked up the remote control and turned it on. Nothing like some mindless television to distract one's attention from the real issues.

~~~~~

Quatre felt near tears at this point. He felt things were going to come crashing down on him, and losing Trowa's respect hurt in ways he couldn't imagine. It was worse than knowing he and Heero would never be to each other what he'd hoped.

Once he'd made love to Heero, he found he just couldn't do it anymore. Couldn't mar the memory of that one night with Heero by repeating the act for money. Found it impossible to get into the act with his johns, so he had to settle for manual and oral stimulation to provide them with what they were seeking. Fortunately for him, most guys didn't have any trouble finding willing bed partners, but a good deep throater was hard to come by, no pun intended.

When Heero came back to the apartment at the end of the week, he would talk to him. Maybe the two of them could start over somewhere new. Not as lovers, but as friends.

He knew it wasn't likely, but he could dream.

Trowa seemed to have heard enough. He walked to the bar, and Quatre followed, unsure of what to do next.

Trowa turned and handed him a bottle, then inclined his head toward the door.

"Get out," he said. "You want to drown your sorrows, do it elsewhere. And for God's sake, at least be sure you know what you're drinking."

Quatre left the bar and walked home.

It wasn't until he'd climbed the stairs and entered the apartment, setting the bottle on the kitchen table and practically falling into one of the chairs, that he realized that Trowa could lose his liquor license over something like that.

Then he winced. If he were so concerned about Trowa's bar, he'd never have taken advantage of the fact that the man hadn't once carded him. Not ever.

He was afraid to analyze the implications of that. Trowa seemed to know a lot more than he'd given him credit for.

~~~~~

Relena Peacecraft didn't think she'd ever fall asleep. She'd been staring at the ceiling since she climbed into bed.

Milliardo had listened to her.

She wished she felt confident in her abilities, but it could have been a mere fluke. Her brother had been furious when he'd found her with Heero. When he'd said something about Heero's eyes, she'd at first thought perhaps they'd met somewhere before, but if that were the case, Milliardo would have confronted him sooner.

Yet her brother seemed unnaturally antagonistic toward Heero for some reason. She didn't think it was entirely because of Duo Maxwell.

She supposed she could understand, to an extent. Even though they were only there as diners, the restaurant was situated in a hotel. That carried all sorts of implications, none of them very flattering a well-bred young woman.

She'd told Heero that she trusted her brother, but she wondered if Milliardo trusted her.

He must, just a little. He HAD listened to her.

She had a feeling that might not last. She was going to need reinforcements.

She thought again about the tensing in her brother's frame when she'd explained Heero's theory.

He wasn't going to be happy with her when he found out what she had in mind, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

He'd trusted her once. She hoped like hell that faith didn't turn out to be misplaced.

~~~~~

On screen, Robert Downey, Jr., as Julian, was servicing male clients as a prostitute in order to obtain money to support his drug habit.

Duo was stretched out on the floor, propped on his elbows in a position he used to assume as a child when he'd settle down for a marathon session of old black and white movies. He couldn't resist sneaking a glance at Heero to gage his reaction.

Heero looked absolutely stricken. Duo was taken aback by that, and quickly turned his attention back to the screen.

"Seen this one," he commented, clicking the remote control to a different channel. "Hope you don't mind."

Heero made a tiny sound, but it was too soft and too quick for Duo to determine what it had meant.

Katharine Hepburn, as Trigger, was trading barbs with Robert Young.

"Hepburn is so miscast in this," he said without turning around. "It's not even funny. Actually, it is. Hysterically so. It's the only thing that makes watching this worthwhile."

Heero said nothing in response. Duo considered his next course of action, then got up from the floor and sat down next to Heero, whose position hadn't changed. His leg brushed against Heero's bent knee.

He gestured to the television with the remote and gave a self-deprecatory grin. "We had only one cable channel when I was growing up," he said.

It was a good movie, not in a cinematic sense, but in that it allowed him to think about things without getting distracted.

Something about Less Than Zero had bothered Heero, and Duo didn't think it was the obvious. Heero was far too complex to have become a hooker just because he needed a fix. He'd been practically livid when Duo had accused him of taking a hit in the bathroom, and there was no way he'd have been able to hide the habit from Duo with the amount of time they'd spent together.

So if it wasn't that, what was it?

Was it the fact that he was prostituting himself? If so, why?

Or was it the film's underlying theme of drug use and addiction?

He didn't like it, but Heero had grown rather fond of Relena Peacecraft in a remarkably short period of time. He'd patiently explained typical Japanese dining protocol to her at the Samurai. He'd smiled at her when they'd been engaged in conversation at the festival.

And he'd met her for lunch for who-knows-what reason earlier in the day. He had a very vague suspicion of Heero's motives, after Wufei's announcement that Peacecraft had called him, but that was neither here nor there.

Wasn't it?

Perhaps someone close to Heero had been involved in drugs in some way. He was making a very large leap, jumping to conclusions with little evidence to back them up, but if he was wrong, he suspected he was not all that far off.

~~~~~

They went to bed after Spitfire ended, and Duo was stunned beyond words when Heero reached for him. He held Heero in a firm embrace, and then Heero started placing hot, wet kisses all over his neck.

Duo was completely undressed, and Heero was only wearing the bottoms to a set of pajamas provided by the hotel. The pants were quickly shed, and Heero made love to his body with his hands and mouth.

Every touch was urgent, but gentle at the same time. He swallowed Duo's cock in one move, licking and sucking until Duo thought he was going to coat Heero's tonsils with his ejaculate.

Then a thin layer of lubrication was applied to his dick, followed by the condom, and another, thicker, layer of the clear gel.

When he entered Heero this time, Heero's legs wrapped around Duo's waist, pulling him deeper into the depths that promised fulfillment later on.

Only this time, the fulfillment didn't merely lie in the fornication itself. It was a deeper, more meaningful joining. It felt as if it were the first time Duo was able to fully experience it. It wasn't rushed. They weren't fucking like rabid weasels. It was a slow, sweet act, a sharing that defied description. Duo felt almost queasy, so powerful were the waves of pleasure that he was experiencing.

Heero's eyes were squeezed shut the whole time, but his hands were busy mapping a trail over every place on Duo's body that he could reach, as if memorizing it.

Duo wanted nothing more than to capture Heero's lips and kiss him senseless, but he had a feeling that if he tried to do that, the magic of their lovemaking would shatter. For the same reason, he suspected neither of them dared saying a word the whole time.

When Heero sighed Duo's name just before he came, the breathy sound pushed Duo over the precipice as well.

This time it was Duo who disposed of the condom, and who went to the bathroom for a wet washcloth, coming back to clean the evidence of Heero's passion from their bodies. He tossed the cloth on the nightstand and turned to his side, pulling Heero close and feeling relieved beyond measure that Heero allowed him to.

Several moments passed before Duo decided to take a gamble and ask the question that had been plaguing him earlier.

He didn't know how close he was, but he'd spent a lot of time putting things together in his head, and he had to at least be in the neighborhood if not at the right door. He also knew if he asked a question on this subject, he'd be lucky to get that one answer that Heero sometimes provided. It was only because he thought Heero might be asleep that he had the guts to ask it at all.

"What did your friend overdose on?"

He held his breath for several seconds before realizing he wasn't going to get an answer. He hoped that meant Heero was, in fact, asleep, because he didn't want there to be any awkwardness between them in the morning.

His eyes fluttered shut, and he was so drowsy he almost missed hearing the quiet answer, when it came.

"Lead."

tbc

~~~~~

pupal - relating to being a pupa, the stage in an insect's life when it undergoes metamorphosis between the larval and imaginal (adult) stages. This is when the insect is in its chrysalis.

danaus plexippus - Monarch butterfly. Its chrysalid stage is nine to fourteen days.

Samson and Delilah - ah, another excerpt from the Old Testament. As always, the Reader's Digest version. Samson, a young man raised under a Nazarite vow, was to dedicate his life in service to God. He was never to cut his hair, or eat raisins or grapes, or consume wine, or touch a dead body. Samson was possessed of great strength, and was engaged in several battles with the Philistines, who worshipped a god named Dagon. Eventually peace came to Israel after Samson slew 100 or 1000 Philistines using the jawbone of a donkey.

Then Samson started to neglect his vows, drinking wine, eating grapes, touching the dead body of a lion to obtain the honey in its body, and otherwise failing to dedicate himself to God. He fell in love with a Philistine woman named Delilah. Delilah, however, had been promised a large sum of money if she could find the secret to his strength.

She asked Samson on many occasions to tell her, and he lied to her each time. On the other hand, she discovered he lied because she'd do what he'd told her would rob him of his strength, only to find that he was still able to fend off attacks from the Philistines.

So the big lug is still madly in love with her, or a glutton for punishment, or just plain stupid, because despite her obvious attempts to make him no stronger than any other man, he kept going back to her, and eventually told her that if his hair was shorn, he'd lose his strength.

So gone was the hair, he was blinded...all kinds of fun stuff. There was a moment of redemption on Samson's part later on, but needless to say, Samson was a dumb ass.

On the issue of naming conventions (again)...middle names are not used in all countries, of course, and the only reason I know that they are common in the US is the fact that almost every form you fill out prompts for a middle initial. I even got some strange looks when I stopped using mine and just started telling people I didn't have one. Half the time you can't even get a user ID for the computer with that blasted initial, but I digress.

Some so-called middle names are actually either a paternal or maternal surname. Many Latin American names (please correct me if I'm wrong) are given using the surnames of both parents. In this story, Esperanza's father's surname is Vargas and her mother's (maiden) name is Milagro. The use isn't common everywhere, and I'm not sure if it's still practiced, because the two-part "surname" is rather unwieldy. Some people consider the first surname to be their middle name, BUT...the paternal surname is the one that stands. (Some countries reverse the surname, listing the maternal name first, followed by the paternal name, but I went with the convention used in Colombia...unless my information is incorrect!)

Many Spanish-Americans (not to be confused with other Hispanic Americans) do have middle names, but they aren't used often, just like most people with middle names. There are always exceptions, just look at any number of three-name celebrities like Tommy Lee Jones or Sarah Michelle Gellar.

Personally, I think middle names are great, because how else do you let your recalcitrant child know the difference between when you're merely peeved and when they'd better run for cover? <G> I haven't needed to worry about that yet personally, but I still cringe at the thought of being called by both names. All three meant you were dead meat.

Esperanza's brothers would also have the surname Vargas Milagro, but if they were addressed with a Mister (or Señor), and the name was abbreviated, they would be referred to as Vargas, not as Milagro.

I remain just as confused now as I was back when I first learned of the name change for married women. If Esperanza's mother followed the "traditional" method of changing her name, she'd keep her paternal surname Milagro, and add "de Vargas" to it, so her new surname would be Milagro de Vargas. Nothing like your very name showing that you belong to someone else, eh?

I know I have really oversimplified things, as is my wont, and perhaps I've made things a bit more confusing, but if anyone cares to shed any light on it for me, I'd be happy to hear it. It won't help anyone who's already read the chapter, but maybe I will stop scratching my head to figure it out.

PHEW! Now, on the other hand, Japanese names are composed of a surname and a given name, no more, no less. Not that I'm aware of, anyway. I have seen Vietnamese names that are hyphenated, and a few that had what I guess could be considered "middle names," but as far as I can tell (as always, not very) it would be very unusual to have more than two names in Japan.

And for all Heero's teasing about being born American, his father is Japanese. Everyone HAS figured that out by now, right? ;-)

This chapter was a killer. Give me a bit to recharge before the curtain opens on Saturday morning, k?