Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell ❯ Aria ( Chapter 35 )

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 35/?

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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.

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 35 - Aria

Heero settled for donning nothing more than a pair of shorts after his shower. He wasn't sure what Duo's plans were for the day and didn't want to bother getting fully dressed this early anyway. There'd be time to decide what he was going to wear after they'd eaten.

He was more than surprised to discover that Duo must have used one of the other bathrooms to shower, judging from the wet tendrils of hair clinging to his temples. The majority of it was dry, however, but he supposed Duo was not about to risk using anything but his own special brand of conditioner for hair that length. The braid was neater than it had been earlier, suggesting Duo had taken the time to brush and replait it.

It brought back memories of complaints he'd heard not all that long ago about the maintenance required for long tresses. He brought a hand up to his own hair. Since he'd been using Duo's conditioner, it had become less coarse than usual. It stubbornly maintained its tousled appearance, but it wasn't quite so wild now that the hair was more relaxed. He wished he could say the same thing about the rest of him.

He watched Duo uncover their breakfast before it registered that the other man was already dressed in a pair of jeans and an unbuttoned, short-sleeved, mosstone shirt. Where had those come from? He hadn't heard Duo enter the bedroom. His next thought was how he would never have pictured Duo in green, but it looked good on him nonetheless.

The shock of seeing Duo in body-hugging denim, though, was another story. Heero felt the back of his neck grow warm as well as other more interesting parts of his body.

If only they'd met under different circumstances...

Was that such an unlikely event? Would their worlds have intersected, had Quatre not pushed him into approaching the Enzo nearly a week ago?

For that matter, would he have met Quatre, had he not tried to hide himself as far from the scene of Kitty's death as he could get?

It was the second time all week he'd consciously allowed himself to think of her, and the first time he'd openly admitted she was gone. Ironic considering that had been the driving force in his actions for the past several months. He'd been insane to think that she'd have wanted him to do...this...in order to atone for some imagined failure on his part.

Duo turned and noticed a sad smile on Heero's face, and his stomach fluttered. He ignored the unfamiliar feeling and gestured for Heero to help himself, then carried his plate to the loveseat.

No man should be allowed to look that gorgeous in the morning. Hell, for that matter, no man should ever have looks that could be considered even remotely beautiful.

Maybe it wasn't so much that he was gay, as that Heero was beautiful. Women were beautiful, not men, so it was obvious that he was attracted to Heero because Heero was feminine in appearance.

He actually winced at the hysterical laughter that particular thought got from some imp in the recesses of his brain, and he thanked his lucky stars that Heero's attention was on the food at the moment and not on him.

~~~~~

Quatre tried to appear nonchalant as he lounged against the exterior of an establishment several doors down from The Bar. He resisted the impulse to whistle.

He looked the other way when Trowa arrived and unlocked the door, but as soon as he entered the building, Quatre's eyes immediately sought out the entrance.

Trowa had left the door ajar.

Quatre took a deep breath before accepting the invitation. He could do this. He just had to act...like nothing had happened. And really, nothing had, right? So Trowa knew he and Heero had been intimate with each other. He'd already known that, even before he'd confronted Quatre about it.

He spared half a thought to the bourbon Trowa had thrust into his hands before telling him to go home, and sighed. Liquid courage, he didn't need right now, because in his brief flirtation with alcohol, he'd found it was also liquid lack-of-good-judgement, and he seemed to possess that in buckets as it was.

He still suspected Trowa knew he was breaking more than one law by giving him the bottle of Bulleit last night, but he wasn't going to bring it up, and he was sure Trowa wouldn't, either.

He opened the unlatched door and walked in, then closed it quietly behind him. Trowa was in the back room, most likely taking an inventory to insure he'd have enough food for the Saturday crowd.

Except for pretzels and peanuts, it was mostly frozen, ready-to-thaw-and-eat fare, but it was sufficient to feed the bar's patrons, none of whom actually came for the cuisine. Without a full time cook on staff, Trowa made due the best he could on busy nights, usually roping Quatre or Heero into heating something up in the tiny kitchen if anyone requested appetizers with their drinks.

Except Heero wasn't going to be here tonight.

He didn't know what to say to Trowa, or if he even should, so he simply went behind the bar and found the box of cleaning supplies he'd sent crashing to the floor the previous day, right where Trowa had obtained them from the last time. He picked it up and carried it to the bathroom.

Maybe someone got really sick in there last night and he'd have to clean it up. That might make him feel better.

The sad part was how true that was.

~~~~~

Duo had seated himself with his back against the left armrest and his left leg was pulled up in front of him. The other leg dangled off the side, and Heero was struck with a sense of déjà vu, although usually he was the one seated there. Duo tended to prefer the armchair, unless he was planning something designed to put Heero off guard.

"It's Saturday," Duo said, extending the leg on the loveseat before picking up the remote. "Ever watch cartoons on Saturday mornings when you were a kid?"

Heero shook his head, and Duo laughed. "Me neither. Told ya we only got one cable channel, and the local network reception was horrible. Seems backwards, doesn't it?"

He turned the TV on, and flipped through the channels. His eyes were on the screen, but his attention was far from it.

"I had originally intended on spending the day looking for information on Romefeller, in light of some news I received yesterday. However, I have a rather good feeling about this one. I think it's time I gave myself a day off. It is the weekend, after all, at least until Wufei calls me to let me know that the iron is hot."

Heero walked toward the armchair with his breakfast, but Duo obligingly swung his leg out of the way, picking up his own meal from the end table to indicate that he wanted Heero to sit next to him.

Some animated program obviously targeting the preteen male audience was on, but Heero couldn't have said what it was about, with Duo sitting that close to him. If anyone had told him a year ago he'd spend his weekend eating haute cuisine for breakfast while watching cartoons with a multi-millionaire as the result of a sex-for-hire proposition, he'd have treated them to a look of utter contempt.

And yet...

He took a bite of the crêpes suzette Duo had ordered and chewed it thoughtfully.

...it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

~~~~~

Quatre heard the outside door open as he exited the restroom. He nearly dropped the box he was carrying when he saw the uniformed LAPD officer walk into the bar, until he recognized the woman from the previous day.

He hoped it was a social call. She hadn't seemed to like him very much for some reason. The last thing he needed was to be arrested, or to have someone decide to call his father - the former would both disappoint Heero and cause Iria undue amounts of stress, which she clearly didn't need, and the latter was undesirable from his own standpoint. If he thought his life was a mess now...

Trowa's head popped up from behind the bar where he'd headed to as soon as Quatre had disappeared in the bathroom.

"Cathy."

"Is that thing still broken?" she asked, shaking her head. "I thought you were good at fixing things. Can't get them to stay fixed?"

"I'm getting a better deal on Coke than Pepsi, so I'm switching," he shrugged. "Can't have any fraternization between the two warring factions, you see."

Quatre felt warmed by the dry humor that Trowa displayed, even if it wasn't directed at him. Trowa realized he'd finished in the bathroom and tilted his head in the direction of the tables.

Quatre sighed and started taking the chairs down and placing them on the floor. He took his time. He knew he'd probably be asked, in Trowa's nonverbal way, to clean the tabletops next. Perhaps Trowa would be in the mood to have the oil lamps on the tables tonight, too, if for no other reason than to give Quatre something to do.

He wasn't sure if he should find all these extra jobs insulting or encouraging.

Catherine Bloom leaned both elbows on the bar and stared into Trowa's eyes. "You really want this," she said.

He shrugged. "Here, I don't have to worry about watching my back so much. And it's honest work."

She glanced at Quatre meaningfully, and he shrugged again.

"You're lucky I'm not on duty yet," she said under her breath. Knowing Trowa, he'd heard her anyway.

"Sure you're not throwing away a dream?" she asked gently.

The look he gave her could have frosted Hades.

"Quatre," he barked without lifting his gaze from Catherine. "Rotate the stock in the back. I don't want the older pretzels hanging around forever."

She glanced at the blond, and noticed that he looked surprised that Trowa had addressed him, but he hurried in the back to do as he'd been bidden.

Quatre knew damn well that Trowa had probably already taken care of this particular job, but he would do as Trowa requested, even if it meant he'd have to check the expiration dates on all the bags. He was so relieved that Trowa was even speaking to him that it took him a moment to realize that he'd not been asked, he'd been ordered. He sighed again, wondering if he should have bothered showing up this morning, and praying Heero was going to be returning from this 'job' soon. He didn't think he could handle it on his own anymore.

Catherine wondered if that seemingly bogus chore meant what she hoped it did. That question was answered as soon as Quatre was out of sight and presumably out of earshot as well.

"Gamma-hydroxy butyrate," Trowa began. "Never heard the big long scientific name for it until shortly before I came home, but I don't think I'll ever forget it now."

She almost started choking, the intake of oxygen into her lungs was that quick. She exhaled slowly, not wanting to distract him. He'd only recently started to give hints as to why he'd returned home a year earlier than scheduled, just before she'd graduated from the Kern County Law Enforcement Training Academy. Although she was thrilled to have him attend her graduation, she had known that his premature return had to be the result of some sort of unpleasantness, but she hadn't expected something like this.

"Funny thing about some drugs," he said. "They are odorless and colorless, and if they have a taste, it's easily masked by alcohol. It's one of the reasons they work so well as date rape drugs. Salty Water. It's a great aphrodisiac for men, too," he added bitterly. "Causes temporary amnesia, disinhibition, heightened tactile sensitivity, 'enhancement of male erectile capacity,'" he gestured with his fingers to indicate he was quoting, "and increased intensity of orgasm. Should be on everyone's breakfast menu, right?"

"They...they make test strips for that, now," she offered lamely, wanting to cut out her tongue for interrupting. With her luck, he'd never finish telling her what had happened.

"It's easier to just obtain my own drinks," he said, making a sweeping gesture to encompass the bar. He leaned against the back counter, next to the register, and crossed his arms.

"No traces are left in the blood stream twelve hours after ingestion. Funny how they found me after eleven and a half. By the time they'd dragged me in for the blood draw, the test results were...ambiguous."

Meaning they'd been negative, but there had still been reasonable suspicion that Trowa had indeed partaken of GBH. She wanted to cry. He'd been so damn pleased with his acceptance into the program, and she'd been just as proud.

"You could have fought it..."

"How? I couldn't remember anything! As it was, I'm lucky I wasn't court-martialed!" he exploded. "Cathy, it didn't matter at that point anyway. I couldn't work with them anymore. You can't fight the enemies without if you're surrounded by them from within."

"Why not just get transferred to another-"

He shook his head. "So I could start all over again, only this time with a reputation, based on suspicion and speculation, preceding me? No thanks. The dream is OVER, Cathy." He sighed heavily, then said, his voice quite a bit calmer, "besides, if it wasn't that, I'm sure they would have done something else, like invoked Article 125."

She wracked her brains to remember what that was and blurted out the first thing that came to mind when she finally did.

"You can really be brought up on charges for getting a hummer?"

Quatre's ears in the backroom perked up at Catherine's exclamation. What did she just say? He found himself inching closer to the door.

Trowa frowned at her, but she caught the slightest twitch of his lips before he did. Encouraged, she pressed that advantage.

She adopted a contemplative expression and put a hand under her chin, tapping one finger against her lips. "Don't you think it grossly unfair that you can have sex with a sheep, as long as you don't give it head or bugger it up the ass?"

"Cathy!" Trowa gaped at her choice of words, and then he threw back his head and laughed.

Quatre dropped the bag of pretzels still clutched in his hand and risked peeking around the corner.

Trowa was laughing?

He'd known Heero didn't laugh. From the moment Quatre had met him, he'd never expected things to get as far as they had, and he'd been incredibly pleased with his progress, at least until Heero had withdrawn from him just when it seemed that there could be more than friendship between them.

But it wasn't until now that it struck him. He'd never heard Trowa laugh before, either. It was just one of those things he hadn't noticed until he realized what he'd been missing.

Who the hell was this woman? And just how intimately acquainted with this cop was Trowa?

They must be pretty damn close, he thought with a hint of anger, to be talking about sex - with animals, even! - in such an easy manner. He picked up the bag he'd dropped. The glare he gave it put most of Heero's to shame.

Pretty damn close.

~~~~~

Duo couldn't focus on the screen with Heero's right shoulder mere inches away. Even the classic movie channel couldn't hold his interest.

One more day.

Despite the fact that he'd told Heero he had a good feeling about this one, he should be coming up with a contingency plan in case Peacecraft decided to play hard ball at the last minute. But Wufei had his cell phone off, and if that were the case...his partner had either figured things were definitely looking to end up in their favor, much as Duo had, or he'd simply decided there was no use fighting a losing battle.

Wufei had no trouble with losing battles...did he? Not that he particularly liked to lose, but that he didn't let the odds get to him.

Somehow that didn't seem to ring true, even though they'd taken it upon themselves to enter into what should have been a number of losing battles, at least in the beginning.

Hell, Duo thought crossly. He'd worked with the man for a couple of years now. They'd practically become overnight successes, which was almost unheard of, because they worked well together and combined their strategies and taken a few risks early on.

As he'd told Heero, those ventures with the greatest chance of failure tended to reap the largest rewards if they succeeded, and it had only taken a few of those successes to give them a leading edge and a formidable reputation. You couldn't buy those things, but they, in turn, sure as hell allowed you to buy almost everything else. Almost.

He glanced at Heero out of the corner of his eye.

Heero's posture seemed relaxed, but there was a tightness around his eyes that suggested he wasn't completely at ease.

The best way to sneak up on your prey was to lure it into a sense of security.

He set his empty plate on the table before getting up to stretch. He took a few steps away and turned so his profile was visible to Heero. He could feel the weight of Heero's gaze upon him as he closed his eyes and arched his back. He slit his eyes open enough to see Heero staring at his hand as he scratched his stomach lightly. He dipped his fingers a bit lower so they brushed the top of his jeans and caressed his navel with his thumb. He still owed Heero for that little stunt yesterday. He hadn't regretted the outcome one bit, but he didn't want the man thinking he held the upper hand. As the expression went, 'the opera isn't over until the fat lady sings.'

"Marguerite D'Alvarez wasn't fat," Heero said.

It took Duo a moment to realize that he'd spoken that last part aloud. Hell, might as well ask, then. He opened his eyes the rest of the way.

"Who?"

"Marguerite D'Alvarez. She played the part of Carmen. She wasn't fat. Not even Rubenesque, really."

Duo stared at him and managed to keep his jaw from hitting the floor at the downright seductive tone of Heero's voice.

"Her operatic debut was as Dalila. From Samson et Dalila." Heero gave him one of those enigmatic almost-smiles and a half shrug. "I took music history as a summer elective at UCLA. Mount Sierra didn't offer much that interested me that semester."

Duo was completely dumbfounded. Heero had just shared more in response to an off-the-cuff comment, one that he hadn't even intended to utter aloud, than he'd shared at any other time during the entire week. It was a hell of a lot more than a simple one-word response. He'd just learned more about Heero than he had trying to get a feel for his personality through roundabout means. Like his reactions to works of art or what he looked for in a computer. Heero had even gone beyond answering a simple question and had voluntarily thrown in a bit about himself. It was even more than he'd revealed in response to direct inquiries.

So Heero had gone to college in California at some point. And as Duo had learned the other night, he'd also gone to school in Japan, and some other city...Montclair, that was it. Montclair, California? Was Heero a native of the Golden State?

While Duo attempted to process this latest acquisition of knowledge, Heero got up from the loveseat and headed for the bedroom. He hadn't meant to blurt out that comment about the opera singer, but the name had popped into his head, most likely due to the ill-timed appearance of Alvarez at the gallery two nights ago.

Samson et Dalila. It suited Duo, with the wealth of hair he possessed. He could almost see it being the source of his strength.

He dismissed the idea immediately. To think that was to disregard all the other aspects of Duo's personality, and to view him in a shallow light. Duo was certainly driven, and a force to be reckoned with, but he'd be just as commanding if he decided to shave his head.

Heero had to admit, though, that the image of Duo as some ancient Greek god, with his hair flowing around him, shooting lightning bolts from his fingertips, was capable of engendering some rather wicked thoughts. No wonder Zeus got all the action, he mused. It was all in the presentation, not in the appearance.

Duo's appearance, of course, wasn't lacking in the slightest.

He pulled the other pair of jeans Duo had purchased for him from the closet, this pair even more faded than the ones he'd worn on Thursday. The fabric was bleached to almost white, and the chemical processing had made the denim frayed along all the seams. The knees and back pockets were threadbare in spots, but there weren't any actual holes in them as there had been in the other jeans. They didn't cling to his legs quite as snugly as the ones Duo was currently wearing fit him. Since Duo had a somewhat larger build, it was expected that he'd fill out his wardrobe a bit more. Which was most likely why he'd requested the custom made suit for Heero that he'd worn on Thursday. He was considerably slimmer than most men.

An indescribably soft indigo colored shirt was next. He pulled it over his head and fidgeted with the open neckline that left part of his shoulders and collarbone bare. He felt more naked in that than if he'd been wearing nothing at all. He smoothed the fabric over his abdomen and then padded back to where he'd left Duo.

Duo was at the desk using his laptop. His old one. The one Heero had designed was still packed away in its leather case. Then Duo laughed and gestured for Heero to join him.

"Check this out," he said as Heero approached the desk and stood behind him, leaning over his shoulder. "This was one of Meiran's more unconventional fund raising ideas. She went through this phase where she wanted to capture the inner child, so she couldn't be satisfied with something like that outdoor event we went to on Wednesday. She went all out, constructed a 'kiddy karnivale,'" he pointed to the spelling on the screen, "complete with dunk booths and basketball throws, and this." He scrolled down the page to show Heero another photo, this one of someone he assumed was Meiran, but he couldn't tell, because although the dark hair was visible, her face was covered with white cream and bits of pie crust.

"Meiran isn't one to ask anyone to do something she wouldn't do herself, so here she is, taking her turn at the pie-throwing booth. She never did manage to talk Wufei into it, but she came damn close."

Heero couldn't help but smile at the idea of the spirited woman he'd met doing her best to cajole her husband into something like that.

Then his eyes fell on another photo that was a bit lower on the page and he sucked in a breath. Duo noticed the direction of his gaze.

"That," Duo said, his voice flat. "Is Hilde. My ex."

It was the girl Heero thought he'd recognized in the picture that had been sent to Duo on Monday, just before the computer lost power. In this photo, she was helping Meiran clean bits of pie filling out of her hair, and the two of them were laughing.

And suddenly he remembered why Milliardo Peacecraft's stride looked so damn familiar.

tbc

~~~~~

Aria literally means "air" in Italian. In general terms, it is a set piece in an opera with a real beginning and end to it. Or it can be summed up by saying that an aria serves to carry the plot forward or to express a particular emotion.

mosstone - a moderate yellow green that is yellower and deeper than average moss green, yellower and darker than average pea green, yellower and duller than apple green, and yellower, lighter, and slightly stronger than spinach green. It is one word - that wasn't a typo.

Bulleit - a brand of bourbon - billed as "frontier whiskey"

Article 125 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice is the military's version of an anti-sodomy law criminalizing anal and oral sex. Yes, sodomy includes oral sex between a man and a woman.

The article is listed under the Punitive Articles in Subchapter X of the UCMJ. Its text states: "(a) Any person subject to this chapter who engages in unnatural carnal copulation with another person of the same or opposite sex or with an animal is guilty of sodomy. Penetration, however slight, is sufficient to complete the offense. (b) Any person found guilty of sodomy shall by punished as a court-martial may direct."

About.com provides a nice explanation, which appears to be taken from the UCMJ as well, but I am unable to verify that. Here it is anyway: "It is unnatural carnal copulation for a person to take into that person's mouth or anus the sexual organ of another person or of an animal; or to place that person's sexual organ in the mouth or anus of another person or of an animal; or to have carnal copulation in any opening of the body, except the sexual parts, with another person; or to have carnal copulation with an animal."

So actually, Cathy is close in her teasing observation about sex with animals being "OK," but nonetheless incorrect. Article 125 DOES frown upon bestiality, but I find it rather humorous that it seems to be...not quite an afterthought, but something akin to one. That's just MY perception of the wording, and by now you must know that my mind tends to make rather bizarre leaps at times!

Rubenesque - a term applied to something in the style of Peter Paul Rubens, a Baroque era painter who portrayed women as having lush curves and voluptuous figures. The idea of "overweight" is a matter of opinion, and some people think "Rubenesque" is another word for "fat" - where others view it as "the way women SHOULD look." And beauty is, after all, in the eye of the beholder! There's an interesting mini-debate on this word that can be found here: http://magazine.passion.com/magazine/advice/17698.html