02-Sep-2002
Title: An Expert in the Field - 1/3
Author: Lilias (Liliascrescens@cs.com)
Rating: R
Pairing: 2xH
What to expect: Hetero-ai, lime (eventually), occasional bad
language. Set 3 or 4 years after EW, so it's AU in the way all
possible-future fics necessarily are.
Disclaimer: GW belongs to Sunrise, the Sotsu Agency, and Bandai, and
I intend no infringement upon their rights.
Notes: This fic is all Rachel's fault. ::nodnod:: Well, and partly
Pat Benatar's fault--I had the original idea for this story while
wailing along with "Fire and Ice," if you're wondering where the
title came from. But it's mostly Rachel's fault, because she keeps
beguiling us all with tasty Duo-and-Hilde fic-ness. It's the first
time I've ever written a real live 2xH, though, so I make no claims
as to the quality of this attempt. Special thanks to Dalton for
the beta-chores!
Heh--what's funny about this story is that I thought it was going to
grow up to be something dark and artistic-like. :snerk: But then it
went and turned into yet another of my odd little romances, instead.
Ah, well.
"I don't know how you stand it. If he were my roommate, I'd be sneaking into his room every night just to nibble on him."
"Yeah. Well." Hilde threw her friend a withering look, then raised her voice until she could hear herself over the pulsing music. "He doesn't like being sneaked up on--and he's got a mean right hook." She took a gulp from her glass, feeling the alcohol burn its way down her throat. "But feel free to try."
Clari swung around on her bar stool to take another longing look at the dance floor. "It'd be worth it," she sighed, before continuing brightly, "And anyway, I can always duck."
"Good luck," Hilde muttered into her drink. "Just don't let him hear you talking like that--his head's big enough as it is."
"You don't say," Clari snickered.
Hilde set her glass down with a clunk. "Good lord, Clarissa. Don't you ever quit?"
Clari thought about it, twisting one long, dark curl around her index finger. "Nope," she announced.
Hilde laughed in spite of herself. "You're impossible."
Her friend grinned back, completely without shame. "You really think so? That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."
"Hilde's handing out compliments? Where's mine?" A long arm snaked between them, and Duo blithely appropriated Hilde's rum-and-cola for a lengthy swig. "Blech. I think somebody spiked your Coke, Hil."
"The rum's there on purpose," she pointed out. "You're driving me to drink, Maxwell."
From long habit, Hilde kept her tone light and ironic. She kept her eyes firmly fixed on the row of bottles above the bar, too, refusing to join Clari in her frank appreciation of the view. These precautions were second nature by now; Hilde didn't even have to concentrate on maintaining the fortifications that kept her safe from her officially irresistible roommate. With practice, she had mastered the technique of breathing unobtrusively through her mouth to avoid inhaling the scent of his favorite soap, and could even unfocus her eyes for considerable stretches of time, the better to avoid looking at him directly. So far, it seemed to be working; even under the brutal assault of spending every blessed day with the man, her defenses were holding.
And best of all, he didn't appear to have noticed a thing.
"That's my compliment? Gee, thanks." Duo grimaced, groping along the bar for the nearest bowl of pretzels.
"Hey, hey!" Hilde yelped, as he almost toppled her off her stool in his single-minded pursuit of salt.
"Sorry, sorry," he mimicked, steadying her before she could lose her balance entirely.
"It's like living with a Great Dane, I swear." She slurped spilled soda from her hand and mopped at her sleeve with a napkin.
"Somebody's in a bad mood," he observed, offering her a handful of snacks as payment for the damages.
Hilde shook her head in apology. "I'm just tired. Don't know why I let you guys drag me down here tonight."
As soon as she said it, she knew it wasn't precisely true--she didn't feel tired, but edgy. Restless. She couldn't quite pinpoint the source of her tension, but something definitely felt odd about this apparently innocuous evening out.
"Uh-oh." Clari nudged Hilde's shoulder. "Nightshade alert."
Hilde looked up to see Isabelle Dutton oozing her way through the crowd in their direction. Bella--Belladonna, to those familiar with her fatal charms--worked for one of the L2 cluster's biggest shipping companies, where her come-hither charisma gave a whole new meaning to 'public relations.' Unfortunately, Bella's firm handled most of the freight arrangements for Schbeiker and Maxwell Salvage, Ltd.--and she was also something of a regular at Binary, their favorite hangout. So Little Miss Nightshade had plenty of chances to work her wiles on Hilde's unsuspecting business partner.
Tonight Bella was poured into a fire-engine-red dress, with stiletto heels to match. Hilde tugged self-consciously at the collar of her sweater, feeling very much like a scruffy kangaroo rat about to face down an elegant snake.
"Great," she muttered. "So it was a premonition." Mongoose, Hilde told herself bracingly. If she had to be a rodent, she could at least be a snake-chomping one.
"Hello, darlings." Bella made her final approach, making sure all eyes were on her before striking an elegant pose at the end of the bar. "Clarice, have you been coloring your hair? It looks positively orange in this light."
"Nope," Clari answered cheerfully, letting the misnomer slide. "Same brown I was born with."
"Of course it is," Bella purred. "And here's our Hilde. You look so chipper in that outfit, dear. Who else would be brave enough to wear horizontal raspberry stripes? All that's missing is your adorable little beret."
She hadn't worn that damn hat in three years, and Bella knew it. Feeling like a cross between a kindergartener and a parfait, Hilde drew herself up to her full height and produced a smile. "Thanks. You look very fetching yourself, Bella." So go fetch, she added inside her head.
"Aren't you sweet." Bella's tone suggested the very opposite. With astounding speed, she shifted gears and pursed her lips in a dramatic pout. "But why is Duo ignoring me?"
"Duo will be right with you as soon as he gets hold of a beer," he reported, still waving to get the bartender's attention. When he finally turned around, holding his own bottle and a replacement for Hilde's spilled drink, Duo swept Bella with an appraising glance. "Nice dress, Bella."
"This old thing?" She tipped her head to one side in an artful imitation of modesty, trailing lacquered nails down the curve of one shapely hip. "I found it at the back of my closet, and thought 'Why not?'"
Catching Hilde's unholy expression out of the corner of her eye, Clari promptly choked on her gin and tonic.
Bella waited until the spluttering had subsided before resuming her monologue. "I can't wait to dance away some of this wretched tension. This has been such an exhausting week! First the freighter from L1 was delayed, and then dear little Hilde managed to mislay all that paperwork, and--"
Hilde's face flamed. This time she was too furious to articulate a response.
"Now wait a minute," Clari began. She had been in charge of the salvage company's books ever since the operation expanded enough to require an accountant, and no shred of paper came or went from that office without her knowledge. "Those forms went missing on your desk, Isabelle."
Bella's eyes widened in limpid innocence. "Says who?"
"Your supervisor," Duo put in dryly. "Would you like me to forward his email of apology over to you?"
Temporarily squelched, Bella deferred comment, turning instead to beckon imperiously toward the bartender.
Duo's foot thunked meaningfully against the metal base of Hilde's bar stool. When she looked up, he gave her a reassuring grin and a covert thumbs-up. Warmed to her toes, she rolled her eyes and smiled back. Nice try, Bella, she thought with a glow of satisfaction.
"I wasn't paying attention," Clari was saying. "What's the count up to for tonight?"
Duo's popularity on the dance floor was a long-standing joke; he rarely sat out a song, and was usually surrounded by a hopeful flock of prospective partners.
"I wasn't keeping track either," he confessed. "Hil?"
She waved the question away. "Don't look at me. I couldn't keep up with that roster if I tried. Ever consider hiring a manager?"
Another not-quite-truth: he had danced with seven people so far, and Hilde could have described their respective outfits down to the seams on their stockings. So much for fortifications.
"Clari-bear, you'll dance with me, right? I know Hilde won't." He shot Hilde an unreadable glance that could have been laughter or reproach. "So I won't bug her by asking for the nine-millionth time."
Clari shook her head in regret. "I've got to be getting home, sweetie. Otherwise I'd tear up the floor with you any old time."
"Rejected!" He staggered backward, clutching his chest dramatically. "Augh! The pain!"
Hilde winced. He'd left an opening, and any minute now--
Right on cue, Bella fluttered her sooty eyelashes. "I'll dance with you, Duo."
Hilde gritted her teeth. That woman's ability to turn a three-letter name into a six-syllable croon of seduction was nothing short of amazing. But then, so was Duo's total inability to recognize that he was being reeled in like a dolphin in a tuna net.
Oblivious as usual, he was offering his arm with a flourish. "Shall we?"
"We shall."
Bella proceeded to twine around him like some sort of poisonous vine, smirking over her shoulder as they made their way to the dance floor.
Clari slid Hilde a sympathetic look. "Where's that mean right hook when you need it?"
With some effort, Hilde managed a convincing laugh. "You got me."
Clari shook her head. "I swear, I don't know how he puts up with her."
Hilde knew--knew part of the reason, anyway. "I think he feels sorry for her."
'Bella's not so bad,' he had confided during a roomies-only movie fest over a year before. 'She's just really, really insecure, so she ends up doing bizarre things to get attention. Don't let it bug you.'
In spite of her best efforts, Hilde did let it bug her--it was hard not to be annoyed with someone who seemed so smug about her own gorgeousness, especially when she was draped all over a perfectly nice guy who deserved far, far better than a dose of nightshade.... Hilde cut off her subvocal rant before it could become audible, forcibly redirecting attention to her friend's words.
"Dratted do-gooders," Clari was saying. "His little outreach program doesn't seem to be helping her attitude any, if you ask me. Well, at least he doesn't bring them home, huh?"
Hilde nodded. It was strange, but true: Duo might court spontaneous combustion on the dance floor, but all his flirtations ended with the music; more than one would-be paramour had found herself hot, bothered, and decidedly alone at the end of the evening, in defiance of every single rule of romantic engagement. Poor Bella didn't seem to have noticed the pattern, though, and kept coming back as if the next dance would be the one that landed him in her clutches for good.
Still shaking her head, Clari dug in her wallet to cover her bar tab; then she patted Hilde on the shoulder, pointing to the door to indicate that she was about to head home. Hilde nodded, not even trying to speak over the music this time, and gave her friend a wave of farewell.
Seeing Hilde alone at the end of the bar, a fresh-faced kid from the local college approached with a hopeful smile--apparently no one had told him that the short brunette from the scrapyard didn't dance, no matter who asked--and Hilde turned him away with a friendly shake of her head.
When he had retreated, Hilde drummed her fingers on the bar before swinging reluctantly around to face the floor. Though she tried to pretend that her gaze was disinterested, it took only a moment for her eyes to lock on target.
Poor Bella, indeed. Hilde snorted. She certainly didn't look pitiable at the moment, tipping her head back to laugh as Duo leaned down to say something into her ear. The motion sent her burnished curls spilling luxuriously over snowy shoulders, the creamy throat bent back in an artistic curve.
As a solid lump of unhappiness settled in the pit of her stomach, Hilde decided she really didn't have to watch this. She turned away, retrieving her warm drink from the bar and making a face as the sickly-sweet taste of flat cola filled her mouth. Her own silly petulance was enough to turn her grimace into a wry smile.
It would have made a good story: once upon a time there was a knight on a black horse--something of a smartass, to be sure, but as pretty as a boy could be--and he saved a gung-ho idiot from herself more times than she cared to count. Fair being fair, she turned around and saved him right back every chance she got. Then the war ended, and they were the best of friends forever and ever.
Hilde held her breath and took another burning gulp from her glass. A great story, all right. Unless the idiot went and decided that she wanted to be more than friends--in which case she'd better keep her mouth shut and her hands to herself, if she didn't want to lose everything. Hilde shook her head, annoyed with her maudlin train of thought. No good could come of dwelling on these things, after all, especially not when it was ruining a perfectly good night out. She would sit here and have a fabulous time if it killed her.
It was a brave effort, but her eyes were already wandering toward the dancers again. It was fairly safe. When he was this far away, wrapped up in the music and someone else's arms, she could stare all she wanted with no fear of discovery. The slow songs were actually the best chance to pursue this dangerous hobby of hers; Duo always danced those with his eyes shut, somehow managing not to bump into anything in the course of those blind revolutions.
It should have been perfectly safe. Except that this time, he was looking right back at her.
Hilde couldn't move, frozen in her seat as her heart knocked busily against her ribs. There was a silent question in those curious dark eyes that she wasn't equipped to answer, or even to acknowledge. She dimly heard the music change, and cold panic clutched at her stomach--the dance was over, and her cover was almost certainly blown.
She turned quickly away, lifting her glass with numb fingers and downing the remains of her drink in one panicked gulp. Before she could do more than scrabble feebly for her wallet, though, a hand descended gently on her shoulder. She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to turn around. Where was Bella when you actually wanted interference?
"Hil. Dance with me."
She shook her head. "You know I don't dance." But she had looked up, and it was the beginning of the end; before Hilde had time to put up a fight, she was caught in the undertow of his eyes.
"C'mon--just this once."
Stay put, her rational mind was screaming. No way, no how, just shake your head and for god's sake don't stand up--
She stood up.
--tbc--
(:./lilias/expert1)
