Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell ❯ Grit ( Chapter 60 )

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 60/?

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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, enough footnotes to choke an army of horses.

Spoilers: Nah

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.

Pairings to date: 2x1x2, 3+4, 4x3, 5+M/5xM, 9+6, past 2xH, past 4x1

Archived at:
http://www.atsui.org

http://sweetlysour.net

http://theforsakenwk.com
http://www.gundam-wing-diaries.150 m.com

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

~~~~~

Chapter 60 - Grit

"Trowa..."

Quatre's voice was deep and throaty. Trowa decided he liked that very much. He'd like to hear Quatre say his name that way more often.

He knew that Quatre was on unfamiliar ground, as much as he himself was. The difference was, he was sure of what he felt, whereas Quatre seemed to be floundering.

But as Trowa had told Quatre, he'd been trained to be 'swift, silent, and deadly.' He'd been groomed to infiltrate enemy lines undetected. There was a tired cliche - a trite, oft-repeated maxim - that Trowa fully intended to make his own personal motto if necessary.

It really wasn't that much different from war, after all.

"I spoke to Heero earlier," he said casually. "I hope you don't mind that I asked him for your phone number."

"No," Quatre reassured him. "Of course not."

"I miss you, Quatre. It's not the same alphabetizing the snacks every morning."

That won a small laugh, as he'd hoped. Keeping the conversation restricted to the same topics they discussed each day, from the moment Quatre showed up at the bar, was a good segue to more important things.

Quatre was highly relieved to hear that Otto had found a job and was spending less time at the bar.

"Speaking of which," Trowa said. "I'm thinking of renaming the bar." It was a game they'd been playing long before the weekly contests for suggested names began.

Quatre made a noise that indicated what he thought of that idea. "I still think you should have gone with Heavyarms."

Trowa wondered if Quatre had recognized, or perhaps intended, the euphemism that weapons of mass destruction presented when he'd suggested the name in the first place. "Well, your idea did get me to thinking," he said.

"A dangerous pastime indeed," Quatre teased. "What idea do you plan on pitching to the powers that be?" The 'powers' being the owner who had been just as lackadaisical about Trowa's changing his hours as he was about running the place to begin with. Trowa had decided that his mornings were better spent having breakfast with his sister rather than prepping the bar for business at the crack of dawn. He wasn't neglecting any of his duties; he'd merely reprioritized them. The extra hours at the bar now took place after closing each night.

"Do you always peek at the last page of the book?" Trowa chided. "What about suspense, about all the steps leading up to the unveiling?"

Quatre laughed again. "I hope you appreciate how much I indulge you."

"I do," Trowa said, dropping his voice an octave. Quatre shivered at the sound, fully aware of the ambiguity of his own statement.

"Heavyarms implies a stash of weapons, an arsenal. An attack," he continued. "Something aggressive and dangerous."

Quatre nodded in agreement, then realized Trowa couldn't see him. "Mmm hmmm," he prompted, feeling his body temperature rise slightly.

"I thought perhaps something that suggested a haven would be fitting."

The bar had always been more than that to Quatre.

"Something cultured," Trowa went on. "Something suggestive of a fortress."

Quatre stood up as a tingling sensation began at the back of his neck. He wasn't at all surprised when Trowa's next words were "Sean Caer."

~~~~~

Noin walked into the office and dropped into her chair looking utterly weary.

"Nice of you to join us," Heero commented, swiveling away from his computer to face her.

She made a rude gesture before leaning back and putting her feet on the edge of the wastebasket. "You're a fine one to talk, Yuy. Can I try that 'working from home' excuse next time I oversleep?"

He pointed his finger at her and cocked his thumb as if he had a gun.

"Please!" she begged. "Put me out of my misery!"

He folded his arms across his chest. "How did it go with Une?"

"She agrees with me," Noin sighed.

"Honey versus vinegar," Heero mused. She nodded in reply.

"It's not quite undercover work," she said. "And it could be a potential conflict of interests. She has to fly the idea past the New York and the LA offices to see what they think. There are agents in those locations that could do the interrogation.

"On the other hand, I know one personally, and have met another one in passing. The question is whether I'll get more out of Treize going as an acquaintance who happens to be an agent, or if an agent with no shared history would be the better choice."

"Khushrenada strikes me as the type who would be loyal to those he considers his friends," Heero mused.

She put her feet down and leaned forward in her chair. "Who else do you know, Heero? I know you've met Zechs, and Relena. You seem tied up in this mess just as much as I am."

"I've met Quatre Winner and Dorothy Catalonia," he reminded her.

She tapped a finger on her chin thoughtfully. "Quatre Winner. Between the two of you, it's like you are both at the center of the same web. What was it that Sally was inferring that day?"

"Will you be speaking to Relena and Zechs while you're out there?" he asked, treating her last question as rhetorical.

"I'm not sure how much time I'll have, or if anything Treize tells me will suggest that's a good idea."

"Personally or professionally?"

"Either," she replied. "If Une gets the green light for my being the one to question Treize about Dermail, that still leaves Chang and Maxwell."

"Hmmm."

"I might be able to schedule my trip to California during one of Chang's visits. He's been back and forth several times for meetings with both Quatre and Zechs."

"Une wants you to interview Chang?"

She crossed her arms, looking like a mirror image of Heero at that moment.

"Only because I'm so very charming. It's more a matter of avoiding the too many cooks issue, if I am the one questioning Treize."

He took a deep breath. "And Maxwell?"

"Never met him, but it stands to reason, don't you think? Although he could just as easily be interviewed by someone in New York instead."

Heero nodded, and Noin continued musing aloud.

"Although...he and Chang are sure to compare notes. So would it be better to have someone else interview Maxwell? Perhaps his opinions could be garnered before he's had a chance to talk to Chang, or vice versa."

"You sound as if they're suspects themselves."

"Quit playing devil's advocate, Yuy. You know just as well as I do that it's easy to have your own opinion colored subconsciously...why are you shaking your head?"

"Am I?"

"I'm not sure how this is going to play out. No point in our speculating about who is interviewing whom until Une lets me know one way or another. As it is, if I speak to Relena, I know whose opinions she's going to spout at me." She leveled a glare at Heero, who shook his head a second time.

"Quit doing that, Yuy. You have something to say, spit it out."

"I think you're underestimating Relena, that's all."

She snorted. "If you think Relena isn't going to spout at least some of your own conclusions to me..."

He cut her off. "That's not what you're looking for, though, Noin. The issue is, what does she think of Catalonia as a person, not what does she think of the double-speak and what it means."

"Speaking of that," she said. "What did Quatre have to say when you called him?"

When Heero didn't answer, she rolled her chair closer to him.

"Yuy? You DID call him, didn't you?"

"Not yet."

"For the love of...damn it, why the hell not! What was with that song and dance about needing to ask for his opinion, if not to ASK IT?"

"Your anxiety over seeing Zechs again is showing."

She narrowed her eyes at him, then pushed her chair away from him and back to her own computer.

"You're right." She sighed. "I'm a walking basket case."

"No," he disagreed. "You're one of the most level-headed people I know."

"You do realize we are close to discussing personal business on the DEA's dime at this rate, don't you?"

"Sometimes it's necessary," Heero replied calmly. "It does neither of us any good if emotion is clouding the ability to make logical inferences."

She placed one hand behind her neck, a gesture she hadn't used since she cut off all her hair. He couldn't resist commenting on it.

"Why did you cut your hair?"

She realized that she was reaching for the tresses that had once flowed down her back, and laughed.

"Old habits die hard. I thought it took only twenty-one days to break a bad habit," she said. "I told you back then, Yuy. It got in the way."

"Why didn't you pin it up, or braid it?"

"You mean like Sally does?"

He paused for a moment, then nodded.

"Wasn't worth the extra time in the mornings. It was bad enough detangling the rat's nest every morning after a shower. Besides, Sally isn't a field agent. You know it's more practical to have it this length. Also much easier to work with should I get an undercover assignment."

Her eyes swept over Heero's hair, and she smirked slightly. He knew exactly what she was thinking, and he exhaled heavily.

"It's not funny, Noin."

"In this case, your sense of humor is just not in tune with mine."

He scowled at her, and she laughed. "If you could just lessen the intensity one a tiny bit, that look would be perfect for your assignment."

"There's no assignment. You're speculating again."

"And I taught you everything you know about that particular art, you know. We can make our usual bet on this one."

"You always pick Starbucks. That's hardly fair."

"Office coffee is hardly a prize. When I win a wager, I want it to be worth something. And I don't always pick Starbucks. Sometimes it's a Peroni or two."

"Your alcohol tolerance is frightening, Noin."

"How the hell did we ever start playing that game, anyway, Yuy?"

"Buffalo. Because Velasquez is metapneustic. And micrencephalic."

"You might as well be speaking in Japanese, Yuy, because I have no idea what that means, although I'm sure I agree with you. That guy had an ego that wouldn't fit in the Meadowlands."

"You didn't work with him as long as I did," Heero retorted. "That's putting it mildly."

She laughed. "He was surprised to see you hold your liquor remarkably well, Baby Face."

"I'm sure Gillis surprised a few folks in his time," Heero grumbled.

"I wish I shared your passion for that pulp fiction and gun moll garbage," she said with a hint of a grin. "So what do those words mean?"

"Which words?"

"If Relena was ever like this to Zechs, no wonder he's a right bastard. You sure you were the older sibling?"

The gentle reminder of Kitty brought a small rush of warmth. "Micrencephalic. Possessing an abnormally small brain," he paused, waiting for Noin's nod to continue. "Metapneustic. Possessing spiracles that are-"

Noin held up one hand. "Spare me. Layman's terms, Yuy."

The corners of his lips quirked upwards as he complied. "Breathing apparatus located in the poster region of the body, as is common with insects."

She mulled that over for a moment, then started laughing.

"In other words, Velasquez has his head permanently stuck up his ass." She leaned back in her chair again and laced her fingers behind her head. "You never cease to amaze me, Yuy. I would hate to play against you in a game like Boggle or Scrabble."

Heero didn't respond, and Noin frowned slightly. "Yuy?"

"I wish you'd stop bringing up Buffalo," he said gruffly.

"You have to admit," she said, not completely convinced she'd imagined the flash of...something...that had crossed his face. "We did drink him under the table."

Heero made a sound of disgust. "He assumed too much."

"I can't believe we played drinking games with those guys. Although I confess, I wish I'd been there when they sent you into the convenience store near Buff State."

"U.B.," he corrected.

"I don't know," she said, letting her eyes travel over Heero. "I think Buff State is much more fitting, considering the circumstances. I will win that cup of coffee."

"I hate you."

"Keep it up, Yuy, and I'll suggest a pin-up calendar idea to The Bobbsey Twins out front."

"You hate them, Noin."

"And you hate me. Gossipy twits or no, I think it would be worth speaking to them, just to have them envisioning Heero Yuy as the July model."

"July?"

She leered at him. "Thirty-one days of a smooth-skinned Yuy in a Speedo."

"Have I mentioned how much I hate you?"

Her response was cut off by the ringing of her phone. She stood up to answer it. When she hung up and turned to face him, he didn't need her to verbally confirm what her expression told him.

"You're going to California," he stated.

~~~~~

"The other thought I had," Trowa continued. "Was to come up with a name that was a bit metaphoric. Something like sandstone."

"Sandstone?"

"Not for the name itself. I'm talking about similes. Something with many layers - like a sedimentary rock."

Quatre thought about what Trowa was saying, and what deeper meanings lay behind his words.

Sedimentary rocks. He rolled that over in his mind. Sometimes it took millions of years for them to form, as eroded bits of earth eventually settled at the bottom of an ocean or lake or riverbed. Over time, layer after layer was deposited on top of the original sediment.

Something hard and unyielding was formed in the end, despite the fact that the base components were no more than broken bits of something else.

This was why he had always enjoyed conversations with Trowa. His friend had no formal education beyond his military training, but he seemed to have picked up random bits of knowledge from a variety of sources.

"Trowa."

"Yes?"

"That night at the bar..." Quatre swallowed. "Not THAT night, not the last night," he clarified. "That other night, with Johnson."

"Ah," Trowa acknowledged. "I apologize."

"You...wait, what?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel that I doubted your ability to handle him on your own."

That wasn't exactly what Quatre had intended to bring up when he'd mentioned Johnson, but he was intrigued by Trowa's tone. There was a hint of chagrin, but not so much as a trace of regret, although he'd learned long ago that Trowa's emotions baffled him in ways no one else's had.

"But you didn't lay a hand on Johnson," he said thoughtfully, replaying the events of the night in his mind.

"No," Trowa agreed.

"You attacked Wufei Chang."

"Who?"

"I'll tell you later how I know that. Right now I'm more interested in why you went after him."

"He was going to rescue you."

Quatre blinked. He could not have heard that correctly. "I'm sorry?"

"He was going to rescue you," Trowa repeated, sounding almost miffed. "He was watching you and Johnson, and he got this look in his eyes."

Quatre doubted very much even sharp-eyed Trowa could have seen Wufei's eyes from where he had been behind the bar, but he didn't dare point that out. He remained silent, waiting for Trowa to continue.

"He didn't think you could extricate yourself from the situation." Now Trowa sounded insulted. "He was planning on intervening."

"So you attacked him?" Quatre blurted out.

"It was not his place to interfere," Trowa snapped.

Quatre smiled. "Not his place," he mused. "Not HIS place."

"No."

Quatre's grin grew wider. "You overreacted," he teased, pleased to be the one who was on steady footing for a change. He couldn't quite imagine Trowa squirming on the other end of the line, but it was as close as he supposed Trowa had ever been to such a state.

"Love will do that to you," Trowa admitted.

Quatre sat down abruptly.

"I have to go, Quatre. I'm at Catherine's right now. Look me up next time you're in town meeting with this Wufei Chang. Or with Milliardo Peacecraft. If you can spare the time, perhaps we can have lunch before you flee the city again."

With that, the connection was terminated.

Quatre pulled the receiver from his ear and stared at it dumbly until it started blaring, alerting him that the phone was off the hook. He slowly replaced it, and then turned and picked up the book he'd dropped when he'd answered the call earlier.

He ran a thumb over the title of the book when the phone rang again.

"Hello?"

"Quatre," Heero's voice rumbled at the other end.

"Mmm hmmm."

"Do you have a few minutes?"

"Mmm hmmm."

In the office he shared with Noin, Heero glanced up at his partner and shrugged.

"I'd like to ask you a few questions about Dorothy Catalonia," he said.

"Mmm hmm."

"Quatre? Is everything alright?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, Heero. Dorothy. She's rather vicious, as I told you."

"I remember," Heero said. Before he could prod for further information, Quatre spoke again.

"Do you remember that proverb I mentioned that day we had breakfast at the Tiara, Heero?"

Heero's brows furrowed, but he had a feeling it was best to humor his former roommate. "Something about a wise man associating with the vicious and how that causes him to become an idiot."

"And?"

Heero wanted to throttle Quatre at this point. "And...and...a dog that travels with good men will become a rational being."

"I think I'd like to be the dog, Heero."

If ever there were a time that Quatre seemed less like a rational being, Heero couldn't think of one.

"Heero."

The drug enforcement agent bit down on his lip to avoid snapping out the "what?" that was on the tip of his tongue. He took a deep breath and instead asked, quietly and calmly, "yes?"

"I love you."

Heero was struck by the words, spoken aloud. He'd known it. Trowa had known it. It was the other reason he needed to speak to Quatre. He flicked his eyes toward Noin again. She recognized the request and left him alone in the office.

"I love you, too," he said as soon as the door shut behind her.

"I know you do, Heero. But I don't think you're listening to me. I LOVE you."

Heero frowned. Quatre was being oblique with his references, something he rarely did with his friends, unless he was trying to make a point.

Bingo.

"I love you," Quatre repeated for the third time. "And you love me, as well. And you loved Kitty."

Heero nodded, almost expecting that Quatre somehow knew he was silently agreeing.

"What do you need to know about Dorothy?" Quatre asked, his voice suddenly businesslike.

Heero shook himself free of the thoughts that Quatre had thrown at him like a bucket of cold water, and he calmly started to explain exactly what he needed to know.

~~~~~

Duo and Wufei took their seats at a restaurant near their main office building. It wasn't until the waitress took their orders that Wufei spoke.

"Meiran and I found an apartment," he stated.

"An apartment?" Duo queried. "What about a house?"

"We're waiting for a closing on a parcel of land, and we'll build on that. The apartment will be temporary."

Duo whistled in appreciation. He'd always thought the idea of building a home to one's own specifications was a great idea, but he'd not needed more than the apartment he had. Real estate was usually a good investment, but one that he'd never taken advantage of.

"So that's what the little woman has been up to while you've been cavorting with Peacecraft and Winner?"

His head snapped forward as a blow landed on the back of his skull, and he looked up with a scowl.

"Watch who you call 'little,' Duo," Meiran said before sliding into the booth across from him.

"I thought you were busy this afternoon," Duo muttered, rubbing the back of his head.

"Don't you know it's a woman's prerogative to change her mind?" Meiran shot back.

"I'd like to know why you're only a stereotypical woman when it suits your purposes," Wufei grumbled, earning him an elbow in his side.

"I hear congratulations are in order," Duo said. To his surprise, she looked at him speculatively for a moment, then she nodded. "We got a damned good deal on the land. Quatre Winner makes you two look like fledglings."

Duo hid his discomfiture behind his glass of water at the mention of the blond businessman's name. He almost missed Wufei's look of surprise.

"Quatre Winner?" he asked.

She frowned at her husband. "Wufei, you're too old to be suffering dementia. Yes, Quatre Winner. Young, good-looking blond, could talk even you into wearing bright red lipstick and a frilly tutu before you'd realized what you'd agreed to. That Quatre."

"I would never do any such thing," he scowled at her, just before the waitress brought over a menu. Meiran waved the menu away, ordering her lunch swiftly. The waitress opened her mouth to ask her a question, then glanced at the pad of paper she was holding and realized she had all the information she needed. She snapped her mouth shut and walked away.

"Do you have the menu memorized or something? Damn." Duo whistled appreciatively.

"I get the same thing everywhere I go if I'm pressed for time," she said simply.

"Where are you headed to next?" Wufei asked.

"Nowhere," Meiran replied. "I just wanted to get her out of the way so we could talk without interruption."

Wufei muttered something under his breath that Duo didn't catch, but apparently Meiran heard it, because Wufei flinched again as her elbow caught him in the ribs.

"Duo," she said. "You have yet to meet Quatre, correct?"

Duo cleared his throat, then picked up his water glass. He answered while his lips were on the rim on the glass.

"You what?" Meiran was frowning at him.

"Duo left that meeting early," Wufei began, "but he was there when-" Meiran held up a hand to silence her husband.

She nodded. "You really do need to meet him, Duo. I think you'd really like him."

"You could be wrong," Duo said, placing his glass down about an inch to the right of where it had been originally.

Meiran folded her hands beneath her chin and studied him. He should have kept his mouth shut, but he couldn't help it. He had a grudge against Quatre Winner.

"It would be nice to see Meiran admit to being wrong for once," Wufei said. This time she let the comment pass without physically assaulting her husband. She was too busy studying the man across from her.

"Duo," she said slowly. "You have yet to meet Quatre, correct?"

Wufei looked at his wife curiously, then at Duo.

"No," Duo replied, hoping that would suffice. He knew better.

"No, you've not met him, or no, I'm not correct?"

"The latter."

She sat back in the seat and nodded once, then asked "When?"

"If you'd let Wufei finish what he was saying," Duo gestured toward his partner, "you'd know that I was in that meeting. I left early, I didn't skip it altogether. We were introduced."

"I know what you've told me in the past," she said thoughtfully. "But I also know there is something that you're keeping from me." She glanced at her husband. "Both of you."

Duo's eyes asked Wufei to intervene, and his partner acknowledged this by making an attempt to distract his wife.

"I can't help it if you were drunk that night," he said. She brightened at once.

"I knew I'd recognized him! He hadn't mentioned it, but I can't say that I blame him."

Duo's eyes narrowed. Between the three of them, it seemed as though there was more to Quatre Winner than met the eye. He winced at that choice of phrase, remembering how much of Quatre his own eyes had been privy to.

"Are you going to go to California to see the building site for the new Sanquhar home office?"

Meiran was speaking again, Duo realized, and he shook his head.

"Why not?"

"There is no need to."

"That's where I must disagree," Meiran said. "You'll be sorry if you don't check it out yourself. Besides, Wufei can't be in two places at once."

"Neither can I!" His tone was sharp and self-defensive, but Meiran was not to be dissuaded.

"Who do you suggest takes care of the Sanquhar business while Wufei is busy teleconferencing? With you?"

He knew she was making excuses. They'd certainly been doing fine the past six weeks with the way things had been handled. She was trying to trick him, but he wasn't about to fall for it.

Before he could attempt to redirect her train of thought a second time, Wufei surprised them all.

"You."

Meiran turned to him, her eyes as large as Duo had ever seen them. "Me?"

Wufei nodded. "You have the time. You admit yourself, I'm spreading myself a bit thin, even with Janet assuming more responsibilities in her new job. You already have established a rapport with Winner, behind my back, I remind you, and you've a nose for business as well as bullshit." His smile looked almost feral. "And I, for one, think Milliardo Peacecraft needs another strong woman to knock him on his ass."

"Another strong woman?" Meiran's eyes were full of an almost manic interest, and despite Duo's curiosity regarding those same words, he was more grateful that Wufei had done the impossible. He'd thrown out a lure that Meiran was unable to resist.

He listened with half an ear as Wufei relayed the meeting of a dark-haired woman. If he didn't know any better, he'd swear his partner was describing Hilde to Meiran.

When his cell phone rang, he glanced at the number and chuckled softly before answering it. He was in good humor when he said "speak of the devil."

"I'm flattered," Hilde's voice said. "Although I don't know if you should be associating me with the prince of darkness. I might withhold the good news from you."

"What good news?"

"Ah, but that will cost you."

He sighed. "Now what do you need a date for?"

"Not a date, per se," she said. "But I want to tell you the news in person."

"You're a demanding wench," he said.

"You're only getting away with calling me that because I already dumped your sorry ass," she retorted.

He smiled a bit, amused at how he was able to view it in the same teasing light it was presented in. Another testament of how long their relationship really had been over in the romantic sense of the word.

"In person," he repeated. "Is it all right if I call you back?"

"Do I have a choice?"

Duo glanced at Meiran and Wufei, who were discussing in low tones what seemed like a done deal. Meiran was going to have an active role in the development of Sanq.

He wished he'd thought of the idea first, but he knew that Meiran didn't view Wufei's offer as a mere bone. This was something she was eminently qualified for.

"I'll call you later tonight," he said, then hung up and pocketed his phone.

It wasn't until their lunches were placed on the table that Meiran's attention returned to Duo in full force.

"You seem pensive."

He pulled his right hand out of pocket and folded his hands on the table. "You seem nosy as hell. It's not like you, Meiran."

She took a bite of her lunch and washed it down with a sip of water.

"Wufei and I met Quatre Winner the night after you took Heero to the art gallery."

Duo looked at her, his brows furrowing, although he wasn't sure which name she mentioned bothered him more.

"He was in a situation that was open for interpretation as to what he was doing at the bar in the first place."

"Bar? He looks fresh out of high school," Duo said, fascinated with his own lunch.

"He wouldn't be the first," Meiran mused. "Besides, appearances can be deceiving."

Duo waved his hand in the air impatiently. "Don't judge a book by its cover, yeah, got it."

"Speaking of books, what did you think of the Maltese Falcon?"

"I haven't finished it yet."

"You didn't care for it?"

"I left it on the plane," he ground out. Damn, it was a hell of a lot more amusing when Meiran was giving her husband the third degree. She wasn't stupid, and he wanted nothing more than for her to stop with her all too perceptive observations.

Meiran wasn't prone to interfering in others' lives, but she had a way of making a point in a roundabout manner. He didn't want to know what she had to say. His blood test was in the morning and he was suddenly nervous about what the results would be. He planned on exercising the power that his finances wielded to obtain the test results within a few hours instead of a couple of days. Perhaps it would be a false negative, but at least if anything did come back positive, he would be able to do something about it immediately.

"Duo," she said carefully. "You realize that we are here if you need us. If you need anything from us at all."

Two pairs of dark eyes were focused on him, and he crossed his arms in front of him.

"How much are you keeping from me?"

"I know where he works," Wufei said quietly.

"You know where he works?" Duo's eyes bored into Wufei's. "Street address? City?"

Wufei opened his mouth and then closed it.

"Let me cut to the chase," Meiran said. "Duo, what information are you looking for specifically? How to track him down?"

"No! No," Duo repeated. "That is...no. But...out of curiosity...where does he work?"

Wufei opened his mouth again and Duo held up a hand. "No," he repeated. "I'm sorry. Not this way."

Meiran stood up and handed a set of car keys to her husband. "Wufei, please go to my car and check under the seat. I think some paperwork might have ended up under there after I stopped at a traffic light."

He looked at her before sliding out of the booth and accepting the keys.

"Why don't you just send me to the bathroom if you want to be alone with him," he said under his breath as he passed his wife.

Meiran sat down and waited for Wufei to put enough distance between them so he could not overhear.

"I told Wufei not to say anything unless you asked, Duo, but I think you're not sure what the question is. What do you want to know?"

Duo mulled over the question. What DID he want to know? How Heero felt about him? He hadn't wanted to accept it, but he'd known. He'd suspected it, he supposed, even before he took that final step with Heero. He'd felt it that last night together, but sex had a way of coloring things more than any pair of rose-colored glasses. It had to, because otherwise it made no sense whatsoever.

Did he want to know what had led Heero to prostitution? He had in the beginning. He supposed he was still curious, but he was certain that it centered around the dead friend that Heero was supposed to marry, or not marry. That hadn't been very clear either.

Did he want to know where Heero worked?

He realized that if he received that information, it would change things. He was still puzzling things out in his head, and Heero's real profession could sway things in a direction they weren't meant to be, one way or another.

No, he needed to figure this out on his own. He wanted to next face Heero without investigating him first like a common criminal. It might mean nothing to Heero one way or another, but it meant a hell of a lot to him.

It bothered him a bit that Wufei knew something he didn't know, but fortunately Duo could not tell if the information had been withheld to protect him or because Meiran knew all along that he'd not want any outside influences.

It did help, though. Knowing there was a potential lead, that he could possibly track down the mysterious Heero Yuy, took a weight off his shoulders. He might ask Wufei for that information later, once he'd come to terms with the very thing he'd been fighting tooth and nail for the past month and a half.

For a while he'd considered going to clubs to test his newfound preference, but he hated that scene. He certainly didn't want to wander into one looking desperate or defiant. He supposed that, since he wasn't really looking to meet anyone, he could just easily be surreptitious in checking out guys in a restaurant or gym. Just as long as he didn't get caught ogling. It was the same thing with women. Subtlety was key to avoid getting embarrassment.

He smiled at Meiran, one of his genuine smiles.

"Tell me about Quatre Winner," he said.

She grinned right back at him, as if she'd known all along what decision he'd come to, and that she was damned proud of him as well.

And perhaps it was time to stop viewing Quatre as competition and start thinking of him as a partner.

tbc

~~~~~

Grit - a sandstone with grains of very unequal sizes. Sandstone is "a sedimentary rock made up of sand that usually consists of quartz more or less firmly united by some cement." Synonyms for sandstone are grit, old red sandstone, and sandrock.

Sean Caer - "Old Fort" or "Old Castle" - the original name of the town of Sanquhar.

Lester Gillis, a/k/a "Baby Face Nelson," was an American gangster of the Depression-era, along with Pretty Boy Floyd, Ma Barker, and Bonne & Clyde. One source of info on Baby Face can be found here: http://www.crimelibrary.com/americana/babyface/

Peroni Beer, Noin's alternate wager prize, contains only a modest 4.7% ABV. Despite Heero's teasing reply about Noin's tolerance, this is comparable to several domestic US beers - Budweiser has 4.9% ABV, Michelob has 5%, Miller Genuine Draft has 4.66%, Samuel Adams Boston Lager contains 4.75%, and microbrewery Magic Hat's Humble Patience has 4.8%.

For those with far too much time on their hands, Peroni's home page can be found here: http://www.peroni.it/hi.html

I can't order this beer without thinking of Peyronie's disease, however. What's Peyronie's Disease, you ask? http://kidney.niddk.nih.gov/kudiseases/pubs/peyronie/index.htm