Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Devil's Due ❯ - 43 - ( Chapter 43 )

— 43 —

February 16, A.C. 205. Weis, Austria. 1 pm

“I don’t understand,” Holt muttered quietly, studying Judas in concern. “Am I not paying you enough?”

“It’s not a money thing,” Judas returned, looking away. “My family…you understand?”

The man sighed heavily, rubbing at his temples as he looked to the table he was sitting at.

“I’m sorry,” Judas added, inclining his head respectfully. “I never meant to do this, but I can’t stay away from home like this anymore.”

“I’ll think it over,” the man noted, raising irritated eyes to Judas’.

Judas studied him a long moment, then smirked very slightly at him. He nodded once, then turned and left the dining hall for his own room. He kept his pace casual until he’d moved onto the second floor, then he outright sprinted for the room he and Alek were sharing.

“What’s…going on?” Alek asked blankly, looking up from where he…was packing his bag.

“Good, we’re leaving out the back door,” Judas muttered, stopping as he noticed is own bag was already packed.

How had Alek known?

“What did he say?” Alek asked, studying Judas with wide eyes.

“He said he’d think about it, meaning he’s going to kill me. You ready?”

“Get me my jacket and I will be,” Alek returned, looking the room over as he zipped his duffel.

“Let’s fly then, little birdie,” Judas returned, tossing the thing to the man and grabbing his bag.

Judas was grateful that Rasmus, Victor, and Kiel had all left together. Their leaving hadn’t even stirred the waters.

It was Judas who Holt had wanted, and Judas who Holt had gotten. If he couldn’t have him, no one else would, and if he were leaving, it was the same as defecting.

Aleksander tossed his key to the room on the counter, which Judas quickly did as well, pulling the door open and looking up and down the hall.

He had no idea how long it’d take Holt to send men after him.

There was no one in sight, so the pair turned quickly left and darted to the stairs. They moved quietly down the things, listening intently as they went. They could hear voices, laughing people…quiet conversations…nothing distinguished from the crowd.

“I’m going with you,” Alek informed Judas as they moved onto the second floor set of stairs. “I’m going wherever you’re going.”

“You can’t,” Judas hissed back.

“I can, I will, and I am,” Alek snapped, hesitating by the exit to glower at Judas. “Give me one good reason I can’t.”

Judas studied him in amusement a moment, then pulled out his wallet and dug his I.E.C. card from the back of it to show the man.

Alek stared at the thing with slowly rounding eyes.

“I’ll get you a ticket home at the port,” Judas added, tucking the thing back away. “I’ll give you money for your car, too.”

“What?” Alek shook himself out of the stupor. “What are you talking about?”

“We aren’t taking the car,” Judas replied easily. “You don’t have anything in it, do you?”

“No, I knew we might have to run before I started this shit, so I don’t leave shit in it…I’m going with you.”

“I just told you…” Judas started.

“Bullshit,” Alek cut him off, glowering at him. “They’ll kill me if I stay behind. You had me with you too much. They’ll assume I know where you are.”

“I can’t take you back to California,” Judas hissed irritably at him.

“Holy shit, you’re an agent,” Alek whispered back, thinking the information over, then stopping and glaring at the other. “I’m going with you.”

The way he said it suggested to Judas that if he didn’t comply, the man would go run to Holt then and there.

He shook his head irritably and moved from the stairwell. They didn’t say anything as they went, looking around nervously. No one really noticed them as they headed toward a side-exit, which they used normally anyway.

“Hey,” Alek whispered, yanking back on Judas’ arm so the man stepped back from the exit. “Look,” he added, pointing.

Judas followed his gaze to Holt, who had just gestured a man to him and started muttering in a confidential way, pointing up the levels of the building. The man he was speaking to looked startled, then muttered something else, which got a nod.

“Let’s go,” Judas snapped, dragging Alek from the building.

Alek tossed the keys to his car onto the hood, patting the top of it with a sigh, then looked to Judas. “Well? What now, spy?”

“Now we run like fucking bunnies,” Judas retorted, starting toward the nearest building.

They’d have just enough time to clear the parking lot before the man reached the upper floor and looked out the window.

“I got the impression that fucking bunnies weren’t running bunnies,” Alek noted helpfully. “And I thought I was a birdie.”

Judas cast him a severely dirty look, and started to run.

- -

February 16, A.C. 205. Vladivostok, Russia. 3 pm

“So how can I get ahold of you?” Raul asked Juan happily as he moved back into the main room of his apartment.

“Calling works,” Juan returned…he was a little high. He’d been a little…or a lot…high since Raul had told him he was leaving. “You know how to use the vid, right?”

“Long distance vid calling…you’re awesome.”

The guy laughed almost a giggle.

“Seriously, though,” Raul added, taking a bite of the cinnamon roll he’d gathered from the kitchen. “Or should we not bother?”

“What?” Juan’s expression changed from that happiness to immediately upset as he shifted to sit on his knees and looked into Raul’s face.

Raul hadn’t entirely expected that abrupt a change, but he wasn’t really used to dealing with high people, and Juan was special on the best of days.

“I just…you have to call me…and…” he started muttering in…a Hakka dialect.

“What?” Raul asked him blankly, studying his face. “That’s not making any sense…speak Russian…shit,” he added, switching to English. “Speak English.”

Juan laughed his high-laugh again, running a hand down his face. “I just…” he thought a second, then looked up. “You call me,” he said in English…with a severe accent. “You call me, you tell me you there…and I call you.”

Raul considered that a long moment, dropping onto the couch. “I take that back. Talk to me in Russian.”

Juan laughed again, leaning over to drop his head onto Raul’s leg with a heavy sigh. “You call me, right?” he asked in Russian. “You call me, I get your number…and then I’ll call you. My bill, not yours.” He sighed. “Then when you get tired of me you don’t have to answer and I’ll know.”

“What?” Raul asked blankly.

“Hm?” Juan turned his head to look up at him. “I thought you knew Russian pretty good.”

“Did you just say when I’m tired of you I just don’t answer?”

Juan looked away.

Raul sighed tiredly, running his hand through Juan’s hair.

Why was he the one with the rich and needy boy? Boys were Xane’s department…hell, even Judas coulda handled a boy-toy better than he could…he didn’t know what to say to this shit. …he was a guy…

“It’s okay,” Juan muttered quietly, drowsily. “Everyone gets tired of me in the end.”

Raul thought he’d fallen asleep and was about to relax back to let the guy nap when Juan’s head came up again. “Hm?” he asked, noting a sort of begging look in the man’s eyes.

“Sleep with me,” Juan said, climbing up to straddle him. “Sleep with me…I’m good in bed, you’ll see…” he leaned in to kiss Raul.

“Hey,” Raul pushed him back slightly. “Don’t do that.”

“No,” Juan half-begged. “I’m real…I’m…I’m serious,” he shook his head slightly, trying to lean in again. “Pleas, Kody? Kodiak? Please?”

“No, Juan,” Raul protested, shoving him back again, nearly smashing his cinnamon roll into him before he thought about it. It wasn’t the first time the guy had made the suggestion, and Raul didn’t think it had much to do with actual lust.

“Kodiak…” he started to protest, then settled back to stare into Raul’s eyes with the same expression a kicked puppy would have.

“I’m not into guys,” Raul told him again. “I’ve told you that…and I mean it.”

“But…I’m really good,” Juan protested, leaning forward against him. “You’ll see…”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Raul noted dryly. “Come on…get off me.”

Juan slid off his lap, folding partially forward to cover his face with his hand.

“Why do you keep doing that, anyway?” Raul protested more at him, trying to draw him out of the shutdown.

The day Jordan had called and told him he had to come home he’d told Juan right away that he’d been offered a job in the states. Juan had pleaded and begged for him not to go before finally throwing himself at Raul. It’d taken him about an hour to be completely gone from the room, even though he was sitting in it. His eyes had been distant, and he hadn’t even looked at Raul when the guy had gotten up to get food.

Juan hadn’t gone home since they’d arrived in Vladivostok. He’d initially been muttering about getting a hotel room, but he’d fallen asleep on the couch and after Raul had settled down he’d climbed into the bed with him.

“You’ll come back to me if you sleep with me,” Juan explained after a long silence, meeting Raul’s eyes. “You’ll stay with me.”

Raul felt very sorry for the man…it almost hurt him to see how utterly un-confident he was, despite his money and the power he wielded.

“I know I’ll be a long way away,” he protested, gesturing with his snack, “but that doesn’t mean we won’t see each other again.”

Juan looked away, unconvinced.

“Come on,” Raul protested, thinking quickly. “You wanna know something? My real name is Raul.”

The guy turned to focus on him in complete confusion. The fact was enough to startle him out of his pout.

“Yeah, Kody is just something I picked up for around here…I thought it might be easier to get the guns if I were like a local.”

“Where did Kodiak come from, then?” the guy asked blankly, studying him seriously. “And come on…my name is Juan…and I’m Taiwanese.”

Raul flashed him a grin and shrugged.

“Why did you even need guns, anyway? Why are you going to America?”

“I know a guy who needs’em in a big way,” Raul noted, gesturing vaguely inland. “I thought I’d make some quick cash while I waited to see if my application for America would go through.”

“You do this often?” Juan muttered, shifting back to the cushion next to him.

“Never had, but had a buddy who said it wasn’t hard,” he shrugged, picking off more of the roll.

Juan sniggered slightly, focusing on the food himself…and leaned forward to take the piece from his fingers…and lick them in the process.

“Damn it!” Raul pulled his hands away, not quite disgusted. “Can you not do that?”

Juan started laughing, licking his lips as he studied Raul’s expression. “I want one.”

“Then get one, you’re not helpless,” Raul retorted, rising to his feet and moving into the kitchen area. He set the one he’d been eating off of on top of the package and moved to wash his hands.

“I knew you’d wash your hands,” Juan noted almost coyly. “Get me one? You’re in there…”

Raul turned to give him a look.

“R-a-u-l…” the guy opened his eyes very wide as he said it.

“Only if you promise not to do that again,” Raul retorted, drying his hands and recollecting his snack.

“I promise,” Juan agreed happily.

Raul rolled his eyes slightly and dug another from the package out, passing it to the guy as he sat again. He didn’t mind too badly that Juan wanted to be touched as much as he did. It was sort of endearing, really…but the rest of it was a bit out of his interest range.

“Thanks,” Juan muttered in his Hakka dialect…he’d said it before and explained it the first time. His eyes were sparkling, though, as he studied Raul’s face.

“What?” Raul asked levelly, grabbing the remote.

“I break my promises,” Juan explained happily, then just as happily stuck some of the treat in his own mouth.

“Next time you do it, I’ll deck ya, simple as that,” Raul noted in English, flicking the television on.

“Hahaha,” Juan pouted, but slid up to sit against Raul’s side…

“…the arrest of Xu Chaoxiang…”

Juan’s attention instantly snapped onto the television.

“What?” Raul whispered, like he hadn’t been the one to set it in motion.

“…’s apartment was searched thoroughly today for any further evidence to use against the supposed drug-lord.”

“Oh my god,” Juan whispered, no longer seeming high.

“It will take the researchers a few days to sift through all of the material gathered, and meanwhile, prosecutors are trying to find definitive information on person or persons who had intended to buy the black-market mobile suits. Xu had this to say…”

The screen flashed to a previously recorded image of Chao, looking very tired and worn. “I had a guest,” he said simply. “My guest had nothing to do with the suits, but to save that guest from further un-wanted attention, the name is not available…”

Well, the subtitles on the bottom of the screen said something like that. Chao’d been speaking Chinese.

“Similar testimony was given on the matter from the other four alleged…”

“Nhean?”

Raul looked to Juan, who had his cell phone at his ear.

“Destroy the plane…try not to get attention to it and get rid of it entirely. Make sure Shire’s not on the island anymore, either…what? No…no…Chao’s been arrested…wonder what his little fuck-buddy thinks of that…”

Mouthy? Mouthy wasn’t in the best of ways, really. According to Maxwell, Mouthy was some mythical god that no one but Chance would have gotten the reference to.

“Yeah…no, I’m coming home tonight…huh? No, he’s going to America,” Juan’s eyes traveled back to Raul as he sighed, then looked away. “I know…no. No…that’s not your business. Whatever, just get rid of the damn thing and wipe the phone records.” He made a few more listening sort of noises, then hung up and looked back to Raul.

“I wonder how Chris is,” Raul muttered, focusing back on the screen.

“…Torwin was deported on Monday.”

“Ha!” Juan started laughing delightedly at that, then turned to meet Raul’s eyes. “If you see that fucker back in America…tell him from me, tell him I said I’m damn close if he gets the conjugal visits!”

Raul raised an eyebrow at him.

“He was from America, wasn’t he?” Juan asked, misunderstanding the look.

“That’s what he said, yeah,” Raul agreed. “America is kind of big, though.”

“Oh, whatever,” the man waved it off, then started plucking off another bit of the cinnamon roll before stopping and looking at his watch as his shoulders drooped.

“What?” Raul asked, blinking at him.

He was way too damn moody.

Juan set the cinnamon roll on the coffee table and climbed into Raul’s lap, curling up against his chest as he pressed his face into the guy’s shirt. “Raul?”

“What?” Raul asked, not sure what to do about this.

“Don’t forget about me?” he asked, raising his eye to Raul’s face again.

“I doubt I could if I tried,” Raul noted, ruffling his hair in vague amusement. “Can you not climb on me, please?”

Juan pressed his face back into Raul’s chest. “Everyone forgets about me eventually.” He pulled away to meet Raul’s eyes again. “You want me to buy you something? Anything at all?”

Raul sighed heavily to himself and wrapped his arms around the smaller male tightly, holding him as he considered what he’d gathered about the guy.

The only ways he could hold attention were through sex or his money…and evidently those things didn’t hold through for very long. He soaked up what attention was spared him like a sponge, and he was probably so desperate to get a hook in Raul because Raul had been offering that attention without ulterior motives.

Juan’s hands wrapped into Raul’s shirt like they did at night, or any other time when he allowed the guy in that close.

“I won’t forget you, Juan, all right?”

“Really?” he asked.

“I told you, I don’t think I could,” Raul reminded him teasingly. “I mean…you’re Taiwanese and your name is Juan.”

Juan laughed at that, pulling away to studying his face…and leaned in like he’d kiss him. Raul turned away enough that it was obvious he didn’t want that, and Juan pulled away with a sigh, dropping back properly onto the couch. “Why do you care?” he asked quietly, looking away again.

Way too damn moody.

Raul studied the guy, then smirked slightly and raised an eyebrow in response. “Do I have to have a reason? Really?”