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"A Little Less Normal"Written By: Clara Barton Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. The following is an intellectual exercise with no intention of profit. That said, these characterizations, words, and situations are mine. Please ask before reprinting.
Warnings: AU, Yaoi, Lemon, Language, Angst, Romance Pairings: 3x2, 1x5, past 3x4 Summary: Trowa Barton starts a new job and intends to start a new life, free of complications like falling in love with your boss. But life doesn't go as planned, and Trowa struggles to find balance between work, love, and handsome strangers. A/N: This fic will feature several different pairings - and probably not the ones that you expect after a first glance. This is told in third person POV, but it will switch to different characters with each chapter. While not a crossover, I definitely want to acknowledge that the TV series, "Dirty Sexy Money" and the movie Two Weeks Notice both influenced me to write this. I would appreciate any feedback, whether it be negative or positive, criticism or lavish praise. Lavish praise preferred.
"A Little Less Normal "
As soon as Duo left, Heero buried his head in hands. Trowa wondered if he should also leave, but Heero let out an explosive sigh. "Fuck. I'm sorry." Heero looked up and fixed his dark gaze on Trowa. "I hate him sometimes." Trowa felt his lips twitch into a smirk. "Sometimes? Then you're a better brother than I am. I love my sister, truly, but… there is no one on this planet who can infuriate me as quickly, or as much, as she can." Heero let out a reluctant chuckle. "Yeah. Yes, exactly. God, sometimes I just…I'm sorry." "Don't apologize," Trowa said, frowning slightly. It certainly wasn't Heero's fault that he and Duo were involved, and that Duo was, presumably, jealous of Heero's attraction to Trowa. "No, not for him. For, ah, not maintaining a professional work environment." Heero smirked slightly, and Trowa chuckled at the complete lack of penitence on his face. "Heero, I'm –" "I know. I know. You're involved. And I'm sure he's an amazing guy, and I wish you every happiness. Well, that part isn't true. I hope he's rotten and you dump him." The naked desire in Heero's gaze was unsettling. Especially when Trowa considered the fact that it was he, and not Duo, who was rotten. It was he, and not Duo, who had screwed his ex at a charity gala. It was he, and not Duo, who was constantly engaging in casual flirtation with the brother of the man he was dating. "Your brother – as annoying as he is – he is a good person." Heero appeared slightly confused at the change in topic. "He was amazing this morning, fighting for Nathalie. She's lucky to have someone like that in her life." "I know he's a good person. He always has been. It's why he was so set on teaching, why he always tried to get his Christmas and birthday presents donated to the orphanage he used to be in." Heero sounded both proud and exasperated. "And he's trying – here," Trowa pointed out. "Yes, he actually is. If he can convince the board… I know he CAN. It's just a matter of if he wants to." "I think he does. He wants to honor your father's wishes." "I know. I know." Heero stood up. "Look, why don't we go and get dinner, and then come back and finish up with this?" Heero gestured to the scattered papers on his desk. "Good plan," Trowa said after a moment's hesitation. Eating lunch, and often dinner, with Heero had become routine, and he looked forward to the meals that combined work and good conversation. He wished, frequently, that Duo would – could join them. Could experience the side of Heero that Trowa was getting to know quite well. They went to a Thai fusion restaurant, and were well into their main course before Heero turned the conversation to personal matters. "What was it like for you, growing up? With your sister so much older, did you have to compete for attention from your parents?" Trowa always found it difficult to talk about his parents, and it was an effort to swallow his food and answer Heero's question. "Not really. My parents were dancers, but after my mother gave birth to me, they decided to retire and they moved to Portland and opened a dance studio. I grew up in that studio – so did Cathy. Our parents always had time for both of us, and it never felt as though I had to earn their attention." Trowa shrugged. "Maybe it was because we were so different in age – our needs were different. Just when I needed the most attention, Cathy was a teenager and wanted less. It was a balance, I guess." "She seemed disappointed that you didn't become a dancer, too. What about them?" "What about them?" Trowa repeated in confusion. "Are they disappointed?" "They're dead," Trowa said shortly, bitterly. Across from him, Heero sat down his chopsticks. "I didn't realize. I'm sorry to bring it up." "I was nine, Cathy just eighteen. She'd just started in the company at ABT – we'd all gone down to see her premier the week before, and then one night, my parents and I were driving home from the studio and just, out of nowhere, this kid runs an intersection and plows into the front of our car." Now that he had started, the entire thing spilled out, like blood from a wound. He found it hard to catch his breath as he continued. "The guy was just some rich kid, high on coke and drunk and speeding like there was no tomorrow. He was driving a Hummer and my Mom's sedan just couldn't compete with that. One minute we were driving, the next – I woke up in a hospital with broken ribs, a concussion, and a scar on my jaw. And no parents." Heero's face was hard to read, but Trowa still wasn't done. "The kid was fine – a few scratches and that was it. His family had political connections, and they didn't want this to get into the news cycle. So they paid off the local cops, and gave my sister one million dollars to never mention it again. And that was it for them – just, pay a fine and your mess goes away." "Is that why you became a lawyer?" "Partly, I think. I still remember him – THEIR lawyer. Christopher Kent. He acted as though he owned us, and he could do anything. As though my parents were nothing, and – I spent years of my childhood dreaming of becoming a lawyer and suing him, the family, everyone. I wanted revenge for what they did to us." Heero was frowning slightly. "Corporate law?" "I was in my final year of law school when I realized that not every rich asshole is an asshole. I was doing some volunteer work for an immigrant support organization when I met Michael Trant. He was – is – a big name in electronics." "I know." "Well, he was basically giving these people jobs and arranging for them to get visas and green cards. And it wasn't because they were even very good at what he hired them for – it was because they had children who were born in the States, but would get deported along with their parents if they didn't get jobs. He didn't do it for any benefit to himself – he just… he had power, and money, and he wanted to do good with it. He made me realize that not everyone is evil." "And me?" "Jury is still out on that one." Trowa smirked, appreciating that Heero was steering them back into a more neutral direction. "No, you are amazing. You really care about making a difference, and I'm honored to be able to work for you. With you, to make that happen." "Can I ask – after your parents died, what did you and your sister do? Is that how you paid for law school?" "No. I haven't touched a cent of that money, and neither has Catherine. For twenty years, it's just been sitting in a bank account. My parents were incredible dancers. They toured the world, and they saved all that they could. They invested it well, and their dance studio was a success. After they died, I moved to New York to live with Cathy. We lived modestly, but we managed, on her salary at the ballet. On our parents savings, I was able to go to Brown. I used student loans to pay for law school, because by that time Catherine had the twins, and wanted to open the studio – so we used the last of their savings to do that. Even then she didn't want to use that money. Everything we've done, we've done without that bribe. For a while, I liked to dream that I would hunt down that kid and shove every single dollar of that million down his throat." "Have you thought about donating it?" Heero asked. "We've talked about it – almost done it more than once. But, as much as we hate it – it's…well, it's all that's left of them, in a way." Heero frowned, and Trowa realized that it probably didn't sound logical, or even very sane, to think about his parents in that sense, but it was how he felt. "You've done a lot with your life. I'm sure your parents would be proud." Heero said after a moment of silence. Trowa knew that, while his parents would have been pleased that he was successful in his career, they would have been disappointed and deeply hurt that he had given up on dance. Not just because it was the family business, but because it was something he had loved. "I'm sure that your father was proud of you, as well," Trowa said. Heero frowned and made a noncommittal noise as he shrugged. "Who knows what Odin really thought," Heero muttered, and that put an end to any personal discussions.
Friday passed quickly, and relatively quietly. Trowa was able to work, mostly uninterrupted, for the entire day. He knew that Duo had come in early and, since Heero had voiced no complaints about his brother at lunch, seemed to be devoting himself to making good on his promise to impress the board. When Duo stepped in to Trowa's office at five, he looked exhausted and rumpled. His tie was a mess, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up haphazardly. "Having fun yet?" Trowa asked, mildly amused. "This place is a fucking nightmare," Duo muttered and threw himself into the chair across from Trowa. "Worse than being surrounded by juvenile delinquents?" Trowa challenged. "Ha. Those kids were angels. Give me snotty ten year olds any day over these arrogant assholes. God, I miss teaching." While Trowa could imagine nothing worse than having to face children every day and try to get them to learn math, he was willing to imagine that, for Duo, this job probably was the worst thing he could imagine doing. "Anyway – I know we had plans for tonight, but can we move that to tomorrow night? There's some movie out that Nat was complaining about, so I'm going to take her out tonight." "Even if she doesn't want to see it?" "You gotta understand the psychology of kids at this age, well, kids with her kind of issues. She's been saying for days – every time we see a trailer on tv – how stupid it looks, how gross it is, how it's for babies or whatever. The more she acts negatively about it, the more she really wants it. But, you know, she's not used to getting things she wants – so she tries to bury it, so that by the time she doesn't get it, she's no longer disappointed because she's almost convinced herself she never wanted it in the first place." Trowa frowned, trying to imagine that. After his parents death, things had been financially tight, but if he ever needed something, or even really wanted it, Catherine always made sure he had it. He couldn't imagine having to hide what you actually wanted. "Tomorrow night is fine," Trowa said. "Awesome. I think I'll ask Sara to watch her and we can just hang at your place – after this marathon of princesses tonight I'll need some guy time." "Do you want to go to a sports bar?" Trowa asked, amused. "If you want – I'd be fine with naked guy time, personally." Duo winked and then pushed himself out of the chair. "See ya!" He waved jauntily and then left. Trowa managed to work for another two hours before his cell phone started to vibrate. Frowning, he picked it up and studied the number. It was local, but not one he knew. "Trowa Barton," he answered cautiously. "Trowa. I'm glad I caught you." "Zechs." It was impossible not to recognize his voice, or the inflection he put on Trowa's name. "I find myself bored and without plans for the evening. Do you have any suggestions for how to amuse myself?" Trowa pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, forcing himself to find the fewest possible polite words to tell Zechs to fuck off. "You've never had problems amusing yourself in the past. I'm sure you will figure out something." "Dinner – at Nobu." "No." "No? Oh, do you have plans with Maxwell?" "I simply don't want to have dinner with you," Trowa answered shortly. "We can always skip the meal, if you prefer, and move on to more satisfactory pursuits." Zechs drawled the suggestion in a tone that nearly made Trowa shiver. He forced himself to remember just how much he truly did despise Zechs. Forced himself to remember that with him it was just sex, and then it was nothing. Forced himself to remember that Duo was amazing – in bed and out – and that he needed to stop messing up his own life by doing this. "No." "If you're playing hard to get –" "I'm playing done. We broke up two years ago, and that's the end of it. I'm with someone else. I don't want to be with you." "Which explains why you were so eager to get fucked on a table two nights ago. Your relationship must be very fulfilling. My apologies for trespassing." "Zechs –" "No, no. Surely Duo Maxwell is better than I am. Isn't he?" "He's different." "That isn't better." "In bed? He's amazing, but he's not better. Out of it – there's no comparison. He's funny, he's smart, he's kind." "I'm funny and smart." "And cruel." "Which you actually enjoy. Much more than you enjoy kindness. I wonder… if he is so amazing, why are you on the phone with me instead of with him?" Zechs' voice was filled with mirth, and it set Trowa's teeth on edge. "Zechs, I'd like to move on. I have moved on. You don't even like me – why are you putting so much effort into this?" "I've always liked you, Trowa. You are an extraordinary lay." "Zechs –" "But it's more than that." This was the first time that Trowa had ever heard that Zechs thought of him as more than a body to be used. "Really?" He asked, filling the word with sarcasm. "If you were just for sex – would I have taken you to company events? Would I have flown to Dubai and tried to get you to come back?" Trowa smiled slightly at the memory of that last. At the time he hadn't been amused. He had been in Dubai for three days, and Quatre was still deeply affected by his father's death. For Trowa, who hadn't seen Quatre since they graduated from Brown, it had been amazing just to be near him again. When he had left after another late night spent working with Quatre, Trowa had arrived back at his hotel to find Zechs waiting for him. They had fought, had sex, and then not spoken again for three years. "Zechs, you never wanted a relationship with me. You wanted…" "A companion." "Some of the times. Other times you wanted me to be invisible." "No one is perfect, Trowa, or do you honestly think that Maxwell is?" "Of course he isn't. But he at least tries to be better." "Ah. Now I understand." Zechs didn't elaborate, and after a moment of frustrated silence, Trowa gave in. "What? What do you understand?" "The appeal. You think I don't know you, Trowa, but I know you. Better than you know yourself. I understand your attractions, better than you do." Trowa groaned. "Please, I get enough psychoanalysis from my sister, I don't need it from you." "Tell me, what is it that you find so damn appealing about Quatre Winner? His looks? His money? It certainly isn't his spine – that man lives at the whim of everyone in his life. So what – what was it about him that you love so much?" Trowa frowned. He wanted to deny Zechs' words, but he could acknowledge that there was some truth to them. Quatre did bow to the demands of his family, his work, his religion. He put the needs and desires of everyone else above his own, and lived according to the conventions of those around him. It didn't make him a lesser man, in Trowa's mind, but it was certainly frustrating. "He is the most generous person I have ever met. His heart is big enough to have compassion for everyone around him." "Ah. So he pitied you and you gobbled it up. I see." "No. He didn't –" Trowa stopped himself. Because it was true, when they had first met, Quatre HAD pitied Trowa. They had been assigned as roommates freshmen year, and Trowa had arrived at their dorm with a duffle bag of clothes, his backpack, and a box of his favorite books, CDs, and Red Sox memorabilia. Whereas Quatre had already filled their double with furniture, accessories, clothes, and an entertainment system that rivaled any Sony ad. The look in Quatre's eyes when he noticed that Trowa did not, in fact, have a moving van outside just waiting to be unloaded, was akin to the look he usually got when he was forced to tell people that his parents were dead. "It wasn't like that." "Hm. You worshipped him. You still do. You have to realize just how little it costs him to be generous – just how good it makes HIM feel to be so compassionate. No one has lived such a charmed life as him, of course it's easy for him to take care of other people." "You're wrong about him. You're twisting everything to make him sound as manipulative as you are." "Hm. Perhaps. Maybe he actually he is. Then, let's take me. Clearly your tastes have changed, but once upon a time there had to be something about me that you appreciated." "This game is getting old," Trowa sighed. "I'll help you out with this one. Aside from my obvious assets, you were attracted to me because of my confidence, my strength. I'm the opposite of your dear Quatre. I don't bow to the pressures of others – and I don't surrender to convention. All those things Winner lacks, I have in spades." "What is your point?" "My point is that you latch on to men who have key qualities that you envy, that you lack. You wish you could be as compassionate as Winner, you wish you could be as independent and confident as I am. You think that by being with someone like us, you become better. Really, though, it just makes you worse. Weaker. You're just trying to hide who you really are. You don't want a relationship – you want the chance to worship. Which is why I find your attraction to Maxwell so fascinating. It took me a while to figure it out. He's interesting, I'll grant you that. Amazing body, good connections. But… let's see, what does Trowa Barton see in Duo Maxwell? Ah…well, that's the best part. You look at Duo Maxwell and you see the future. You see a well- adjusted, rich, openly gay man who is both compassionate AND confident, and you want that. You want to be that strong, that decent. You want to be someone who is good enough to give some immigrant kid a life of luxury. But you know that you aren't good enough. It's why you let me fuck you at his mother's party, and it's why you're going to come to my hotel tonight. Because you aren't Duo Maxwell, and you aren't even good enough to really bewith him. You're just a shell, Trowa, waiting to be filled up by whoever you're with. I always appreciated that – it kept complications out of our arrangement. Think about it, Trowa. If you really wanted a relationship with me – why didn't you just do something about it? If you really loved Winner, why do you keep letting him abandon you? I think it's –" "We're done with this conversation. I'm not coming to your hotel, and I'd really appreciate it if you stay the fuck away from me." Without waiting for a response, Trowa ended the phone call. He tossed his cell onto the desk and glared at it. He wished that he could hate Zechs because the man was wrong, but if Trowa was honest with himself, there was too much truth in what he had said for Trowa to shrug off as just vindictiveness. It also sounded eerily similar to what Catherine had said to him weeks ago. He scowled at the thought. His sister knew him fairly well, and he had been with Zechs for more than two years. They knew him, and they understood him. Better than he understood himself, it seemed. "Fuck." He scrubbed his face with his hands and then started to straighten his desk. Halfway through, he was struck with the desire to call Catherine. She answered on the third ring. "Trowa? Are you okay?" "I'm fine." "Okay… it's just, it's Friday night. And you never call me." "I know. I'm sorry. I was wondering if you had plans for tomorrow? I thought maybe I could spend some time with you and the kids." Catherine was silent for a moment. "Well... if you really want to spend time with them, I know they would love to go to the street festival tomorrow. It's a few blocks away – some carnival stuff, food, arts and crafts. They've been talking about it for weeks now." "Sounds great." "Good – why don't you come and pick them up at ten tomorrow?" "What about you?" "It isn't that I don't love you, Trowa, and that I don't miss you and wouldn't love the chance to spend the day with you." "But you're using me as a free babysitter," Trowa concluding, smirking at her manipulation. "If you must put it into those terms, then yes, that IS what I'm doing. And I really appreciate it. So will they." "It'll be fun," Trowa assured her. He had been looking forward to talking to her, but, he realized, it might actually be better to NOT talk about it for a while. Spending the day with his niece and nephew would be a nice break from thinking about himself.
Twenty hours later, he was wondering how he could have possibly been so stupid. Luc and Lilly seemed to be angelic kids, when in the constraints of their mother's watchful gaze, but the minute they left the apartment, all hell had broken loose. They gorged themselves on sugar and ran around like demons, he lost each of them at least twice, had to break up a fight between Luc and another boy who had stolen Lilly's candy apple, and then, of course, had spoiled them completely by buying every souvenir they requested. When he finally dropped them back off with Catherine, he was exhausted and just wanted to collapse. It didn't help that the kids instantly turned charming again, hugging him and begging him to stay for dinner, and telling Catherine it had been the best day of their lives. Trowa couldn't decide if they were criminal masterminds or just amnesiacs. He was able to make his excuses and escape, however. He had just gotten out of the shower when he heard his phone ring. It was Duo. "Hey – we still on for tonight?" "Do you mind if we stay in?" "No, that's cool. You sound beat – you okay?" "I'm fine. I took my eight year old niece and nephew to a festival. It was six hours of hell." "Haha. I mean, man, I feel for you." "Whatever." "So, I'll grab some takeout on my way over?" "Sounds great." "Sushi good?" Trowa caught himself before agreeing to it. "No, I hate sushi, actually." "Oh. Huh. I thought you and Heero went to his favorite sushi place pretty often." "I get veggie rolls. But I hate it. I hate the smell, the taste, everything." "So… why do you go?" Duo sounded genuinely confused. "He enjoys it." "Right. But he enjoys other food too. It's not in your contract that you have to eat sushi just to make your boss happy. Tell him you don't like it – he'll start going somewhere else." "It's not a problem." "Okay." Duo didn't sound convinced. "So…something hot or something cold?" "Hot, please." "Alright – how do you feel about Indian?" "I love it." "Okay, that I can work with. I'll bring over a feast – just as soon as you tell me where you live." Trowa gave him the address and then pulled on a pair of faded, well worn jeans and an even more faded and worn Red Sox shirt. He spent the next half hour cleaning, feeling like an idiot as he did so. When his doorbell rang he opened it to reveal a grinning Duo holding up two brown bags that smelled like heaven. Trowa's stomach growled. "Nice digs," Duo said as he came in and glanced around. "You really do support IKEA don't you?" Trowa shrugged. "I needed furniture." "Huh. Yeah. So… where do you want these?" Duo gestured with the bags. "Kitchen's this way." Trowa took the bags from Duo's hands and led him into the kitchen. "Nice view," Duo commented, wandering past the kitchen to look out of the floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the balcony, and beyond that Lower Manhattan. "Thanks. I thought so too. We can eat out there," Trowa nodded to the balcony. "Great. It's nice weather for that. Uh, got anything to drink?" "Check the fridge – I've got beer, milk, some orange juice, water." "Beer sounds great – what do you want?" Duo asked, his head already in the fridge. "The same." Duo took the drinks outside and then returned to help Trowa assemble the food onto plates. It was quiet and companionable. It felt as if they had been doing the same routine for years, and not for the first time. It wasn't until they were seated on the balcony and tearing into the fluffy naan that Duo pointed at Trowa's shirt. "You know, I could complain about you wearing that, but it seems to me that you did it on purpose. So that I'd spill something on it and you'd have to take it off." Trowa rolled his eyes. "Or it was clean and after the day I've had, clean was the best I could go for." "Still, you should probably take it off. Just to be safe." "I'm not going to eat without my shirt on." "No, it's no big deal. I'll do it too." Duo licked his fingers clean and then pulled off his own t-shirt. With a sigh, Trowa followed suit. "See, doesn't that feel better?" "Why do I think you have some plan to have both of us naked in ten minutes?" Trowa asked. "Because you know me?" Duo answered with a grin. "But I was actually going for fifteen minutes." "This is delicious," Trowa said as he scooped up some lamb korma with the naan. "Mmhmm. One of my favorite places. So… you have a niece and a nephew? How old are they?" "Eight – twins." "Huh, how old is your sister?" "Thirty-eight in September." "And they live here in the City?" "Yeah, in Midtown. My sister has a dance studio near their apartment." "Oh yeah, you know – she's probably one of the only women I've ever found attractive." "That's my sister you're talking about." Duo shrugged, unapologetic. "I'm just saying – you Bartons sure are good looking." "We aim to please." "So, in related things I don't know about you – you speak French?" "Yes, and German – a bit of Spanish and Italian. Some handy curses in Russian. And Arabic." "So, what did ole Mrs. Fontaine have to say the other day that got you so riled up?" Trowa's jaw clenched at the memory. The woman had been full of hatred and anger towards her daughter and towards Duo. It had infuriated him that someone could actually feel those things towards their own child, and towards a man who was only trying to save a child's life. "Nothing you need to hear. She's a vile woman, full of vile thoughts." Duo shrugged. "Maybe. I dunno. She's had a rough life – been dealt a tough hand. She's a shit mom, no argument there, but… she's not evil. She's not, say, Treize Khushrenada, you know? She's just messed up." Trowa shook his head. He found it slightly exasperating that Duo had sympathy for the woman. It reminded him of his conversation last night with Zechs. "So… how do you feel about kids?" Duo asked, still steering the conversation into personal details. Trowa frowned. "I love my niece and nephew. Nat is amazing. I don't want to become a school teacher." "No, I mean… do you want to settle down? Raise a family?" "Are you proposing?" Trowa tried to inject amusement into his voice. "No, just trying to figure you out." "Why the sudden need to?" Trowa asked, not to avoid the question, but out of curiosity. Duo shrugged. "I dunno. Well, I had that interview with social worker the other day. It got me thinking, planning. And seriously – I'm not proposing. Just…trying to think of the future." "I've never given it too much thought. I've never been with anyone who DID want that kind of future." "Well, what about you? Do you want that kind of future?" Trowa frowned as he considered the question. "A family would be nice," Trowa finally concluded, trying to picture himself changing diapers or taking a child to kindergarten, or to little league practice. It wasn't too horrifying. Duo grinned crookedly. "Have you ever really thought about the future? About where you might be in five years? Ten?" "No. Not really." Trowa had spent much of his life focused on short term goals – graduation from Brown, the Harvard. Aside from that, his one goal had been to be with Quatre. And that had failed rather spectacularly. "Weird. I definitely would have figured you for the five year plan type." "Like Stalin?" "Well, not EXACTLY like Stalin. Just… you're a bit anal, in terms of organization, and I figured you'd have your plans for the future mapped out." "What about you? Where do you see yourself in five years?" Trowa asked. "In five years… well, I've had to change my plans a little recently. Used to be, by the time I was thirty-five I wanted to be married, have adopted at least one kid, finished renovation on the Brownstones, and helped the school expand. Now… well, NOW in five years I'll have to start bugging Nat about looking at colleges, and teach her how to drive… and I'd still like to be married, maybe adopt a baby. Get a dog." "A dog?" "Yeah. Mother is allergic – or claims to be, since she'd never even consider a poodle. I've always wanted one, but I… well, it's stupid." Duo scratched the back of his neck, and it looked as though he was blushing. "What?" Trowa demanded. "Nothing, I just… I thought it would be something I'd do with my husband, you know? To start a life together – we'd get a puppy, raise it, and then start on a family." Trowa swallowed back a rising sense of doom. While Duo didn't have his future mapped out, he had clearly thought about it, and knew what he wanted. And it was clear that the man Duo wanted to share his life with needed to be together enough to be his partner in that. It had been repeatedly made clear to Trowa that he was NOT partner material. "I'm a cat person," Trowa murmured. "That makes sense. I've got nothing against cats, though. Well – I don't care for the hairless ones that look like aliens." Duo shuddered. "Those things are freaky." "I used to have a cat, in Paris, a stray that I started to feed and eventually coaxed inside." "What happened to him?" "I couldn't take him to Dubai – it's stupidly complicated to bring a pet into the country – so I gave him to my neighbor's daughter." "Are you going to get another one?" "My hours are a little unsettled to have a kitten alone in the apartment. I wouldn't be able to give it much attention." "You could get an adult cat," Duo pointed out. "True. Might shred my IKEA furniture, though." "And what a shame that would be," Duo chuckled. "Thank you for dinner," Trowa said after finished off the last piece of naan. "No problem. So, what entertainment did you have planned for the evening?" Trowa looked at his watch. "Well, first pitch is in about ten minutes for the Yankees – Red Sox game. We could watch it." "This sounds dangerous," Duo said. Trowa smirked. "Only if you think you have a chance of winning." He gathered up their dishes and took them into the kitchen. Duo followed him and leaned against the counter, watching as Trowa rinsed them off and loaded them into the dishwasher. "Are you okay? Aside from being run into the ground by your niece and nephew?" Duo seemed genuinely concerned, and it made Trowa feel guilty. "Fine. Just tired." And filled with self-loathing went unspoken. "Look, I'm sorry if Heero and I are irritating." "It's my job to mediate between the two of you, it's not a problem. Although, would it be possible for you to stop giving your brother such a hard time about me?" "Possible? Sure. But it's going to cost you." Duo was smiling broadly. He winked when Trowa looked up from the dishes. "Oh?" "Yeah." Duo reached out and grabbed the waistband of Trowa's jeans and used it to pull him closer. "Some clothes, to start off with." "You already have one of my suits." "Well, I bought you a new one, so that doesn't really count. These need to come off." Duo started to undo the top button, and then the fly of Trowa's jeans. Once loose, he pushed them down Trowa's hips before kneeling in front of him and pulling them the rest of the way down and waiting while Trowa kicked them off. "Commando? Nice choice." Duo smirked at Trowa's exposed penis. "Means it's going to cost you something else, though, since you don't have any more clothes." Duo sat back on his heels and looked over the length of Trowa's body. "God, you are amazing." Duo leaned in and guided Trowa into his mouth. He was still soft, but Duo's tongue and the hand stroking his balls quickly brought him to full erection. Duo hummed contentedly and Trowa groaned as he fisted his hands into Duo's hair. It wasn't long before Duo worked him up to the point of orgasm. "Duo –" Trowa tried to pull back, but Duo's free hand clenched against his right hip and kept him in place. "Fuck, Duo, I'm – Christ!" The orgasm felt as if it was drawn out of his very soul, it was so intense. When Duo released him, Trowa actually stumbled backwards. "I know I'm good, but, ah, are you okay? Seriously?" The concern was back, and Trowa forced himself to pull it together. "Yes, that was incredible." "Well yeah." Duo smirked. "Now, you mentioned something about wanting to watch your precious Sox get crushed. Why don't we watch a few innings while I figure out what else I want from you in exchange for being nice to my brother?" Trowa rolled his eyes. "You realize that you don't need to blackmail me into having sex with you." "Sure. But it's more fun this way." Trowa shook his head but pulled his jeans back on. He felt more relaxed now, and he was grateful for that. "Thank you." Trowa kissed Duo, tasting himself on the other man. "My pleasure." Duo grinned. They made it until the sixth inning, when the Red Sox scored four runs to break out of the 1-1 tie that had been the game since the second inning, and Duo grew exasperated with the Yankees. During the next commercial break Duo dragged Trowa into the bedroom and they spent the rest of the game having sex on the clean sheets Trowa had put on the bed that afternoon. Afterwards, they lay in bed and Trowa tried to convince himself to get up to turn off the television. "My Mother kidnapped Nat for the day, you know," Duo said around a yawn. "Wanted to do girl things with her and have her spend the night. I can only imagine the nightmares that kid must be having right now." "Really?" "No, I'm sure she had a great time. Celia probably took her shopping, got them manicures – maybe a massage. And now she's falling asleep to the sound of the ocean out at the Hamptons. That was always one of my favorite houses. I love the sound of the ocean, the smell of the salt. Anyway, I'm sure Nat had a great day." "I'm sure she'll tell you all about it at brunch tomorrow." "Yeah. And no doubt Mother has been quizzing her on life with me all day, too. Trying to figure out what kinds of debauchery I'm up to these days." Trowa frowned as a thought occurred to him. "I don't want Nathalie to have to lie about us," he said. "Uh… I'm confused." "If Celia asks her if you have guests over? She's going to say that I come over." "Well. Shit. I didn't think about that. Fuck. Well, to be honest, it's probably better that we are honest about this – it's not healthy for her to have us conducting some affair that I'm keeping a secret from my family." "Duo, Heero can't know that we've been dating." "I don't want Nat to lie, either, so we've got a problem here." Duo no longer appeared sleepy, and Trowa's own fatigue was starting to slip away. "Besides, he's a big boy – he can take it." "No he can't. This isn't – he's wants to trust you. He's actually starting too. If we tell him that we've been together this whole time, that trust is gone. And right now, that trust is the only chance you two have to keep this company together." "Well, what the hell do you suggest, then?" Trowa drew in a deep breath. The future, what he needed to do, was suddenly very clear. "We should end this. Nat needs you, and Heero needs you. I'm just coming between you and both of them. This isn't…healthy, as you said. You're building a life, and you're helping your brother preserve your father's legacy. I'm standing in the way." "What – what are you talking about?" Duo seemed furious. "You are helping me and Heero preserve Dad's fucking legacy. And Nat is my priority right now, no doubt about that, but she likes you. And so do I." "I don't see how it can work. We should have never done this in the first place." "Trowa –" "You have a plan, Duo. You have a five year plan and it's a good one. I don't. A month ago, my only plans for the future revolved around Quatre Winner." Trowa shook his head. "Since college, all of my plans have revolved around him. There was never a five year plan, never even a five month plan. I just…wanted to be in his life. That was it for me. And now – I'm half the world away, working for someone else and in a relationship with you. It's completely beyond the scope of anything I've ever thought of. I'm not – I can't be who you want to do this with." By the end, Trowa couldn't look at Duo, couldn't stand even thinking about the way Duo must be looking at him. "Huh." Duo said. Silence stretched between them for several long moments. " Well, I should probably get a start on those plans of mine and head out of here," Duo said, his voice so controlled that Trowa almost missed the thread of anger. "It's better this way," Trowa assured him. "Right, well, I just need to say one thing, just to get it out of my system." Duo rose from the bed and pulled on his clothes. He finished dressing and then stood at the foot of the bed, staring at Trowa until he looked up to meet his gaze. "You're an idiot. For someone so fucking brilliant, you, Trowa Barton, are a fucking idiot." Duo shook his head, started to say something else, and then shrugged. "Whatever. Okay. Fine. We'll do this your way." A moment later, Trowa heard the slam of his front door. It was hours later before he finally made himself turn off the television and lock the front door. He knew it was the right thing to do. He knew
that Duo would find someone better. He knew that he could move
on. Somehow. ~ * ~ tbc... |
