21-Nov-2004
Title: Howl 2/?
Author: Sol 1056
Rating: NC-17 for sex, violence, and dirty mouths
Warning: Subplots deal with religion, establishment, and child-bearing... oh, and werepervs. Yes. That's right. Werepervs.
Pairings: Various, but predominantly 2x1, 1xR, 2xR, 4x3, 5x3, 1x3, 4xC, 3xH, RxD, 5xM, and a few others that may come and go.
Disclaimer: No, don't own 'em... Hey! Could that be a sigh of relief from Bandai?
Archived: sweetlysour and gwaddiction
Critiques: always welcome, natch!
Warning in this chapter: someone's more like the Episode Zero version than the end-of-series character point. Not entirely bastardized so much as 'if never a pilot and never fought in war' position. With thanks to Windsorblue, Arith, Asuka K, and Saro for their feedback and comments.
"condoms & pots, steel knives, nothing stainless, only the dank muck and the razor-sharp"
---Allen Ginsburg
Duo could smell Trowa, the faint musk of Trowa's cologne, wafting in the heated air. He didn't move, content to inhale the musty scent of stale cigarette smoke and sex and sweat that clung to Trowa's apartment, lurking under the sofa cushions and the cheap cork squares on the one low table by the sofa-bed. The lock clicked, tumblers rolling, clattering, and Trowa ghosted into the apartment. He was still for a moment, then shut the door behind him, falling against it as though exhausted.
"Get the hell out," Trowa intoned, flatly. "I've got company coming."
"Really." Duo studied his fingernails, and glanced up at Trowa from under his eyelashes.
Trowa snorted and removed his suit jacket, hanging it on a bare nail by the door. A minute later the tie and shirt were gone, revealing scar-ridden skin; Trowa wiped under his arms with the shirt, down his chest, and threw the shirt across the room, into the corner. Duo frowned, puzzled, too curious to keep his mouth shut.
"Good company or bad company?"
"It's... " Trowa's eyes narrowed, and Duo held up his hands, as if in surrender. Trowa shook his head, and toed off his nice shoes, leaving them by the door. "Just company. And I don't want you here when he gets here."
"Ooh, it's male," Duo replied, not budging from his spot on the sofa. He'd spent the previous two hours patting the cushion down, rearranging himself around the lumps and broken spring, until he was positioned quite comfortably. He didn't plan on moving until Trowa threw him out, but it wouldn't be the first time he'd made a quick acquaintance with the plaster across the hall from Trowa's door. It was something of a tradition.
"I'm serious, Duo," Trowa said, undoing the buttons on his pants. They fell down his hips, revealing mustard-gold boxers that might have once been orange, or perhaps red. Trowa kicked off the slacks, and threw them across the one room, after the shirt. He leaned over, removing his socks, and threw them into the pile as well.
"So am I." Duo's voice was quiet but deadly. He'd heard nothing of Trowa entertaining after work, other than Hilde. He doubted it could be something too serious, unless Trowa was so tired - or just tired of feeling guilty - that he'd let it slip. Either way, Duo saw no reason to move, and his smile told Trowa as much.
"It's... one of my former clients," Trowa said. He crossed to the one window, staring down at the dark street, four floors below. He popped the lock and slid the window half-open; the city air, stale and pungent, rushed into the apartment on a wave of heat and damp. "He... sometimes we hang out. Old time's sake. Hilde knows," he added, in a soft voice.
"She didn't mention it to me," Duo replied, unperturbed by the implication.
"You're not her keeper."
Duo shrugged. "Technicality." He raised his socked feet onto the sofa, clasping his arms around his shins, and grinned over his knees. "Maybe I just want some gossip to keep me company on my long trek home."
Trowa arched one eyebrow, and glanced down at the street again. His skin was office pale, scars in proud relief, one gash slicing across his chest just under his right nipple. He looked dangerous: a wounded animal, cornered, but not down. Duo tensed instinctively.
"Old client," Trowa said, in a dull, exhausted tone. "He married when he and I were eighteen. His wife fell ill a year later, seemed to recover... but when they won the lottery, the doctors discovered her illness had... " Trowa rolled one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug, and leaned against the window. His face was reflected against the glass, faintly, superimposed on the dark office building across the avenue. "They had to divorce."
Duo sucked in his breath. "You people are animals," he hissed.
Trowa flinched, looking away. "You need to leave."
"Not yet. What happened to your friend?"
"Remarried." Trowa crossed his arms; the thumb of his left hand grazed across the scar on his chest, brushing over the crumpled, imperfect skin. He didn't seem to notice Duo's presence any longer. His gaze was fixed on the street below, every muscle tensed. "I introduced him to his second wife."
"Matchmaker, too. Do you also do windows?"
Trowa's look was pure venom, encased in an impassive expression. "Get out," he said, flat.
"I'm getting," Duo replied, unfolding his legs. He kept his tone amiable, but the small hairs on his forearms prickled. "Hilde told me your sister hates your career choice," he observed, digging his toes into his boots. He took his time lacing up the boots, wrapping the laces around his ankles twice and tying the knot at the back of his ankle. "I'm guessing she doesn't know you're also doing them on your own time?"
Trowa didn't reply.
Duo stood up, stretching. "Boy, I bet she'd skin you alive if she--"
Trowa was instantly in front of Duo, towering over him. "What are you going to do? Blackmail me?"
The difference in their heights wasn't that great, but to Duo it had always seemed as though Trowa's space could grow or shrink with his mood. Trowa was in a dark, disturbed temper; he somehow took up the entire apartment and slipped through the window to fill the city.
"Naw," Duo drawled, keeping his hands down and his expression open. He didn't look Trowa in the eyes, but stared at a point somewhere around Trowa's shoulder. Not a good time to challenge, he reminded himself. "I wouldn't do that, man," he added, and fell silent.
After a moment, Trowa stepped away, letting Duo pass. At the door, Duo paused, but Trowa shifted, and Duo knew his visit was over. He could hear an unfamiliar footstep outside the apartment, firm, confident, coming down the hallway; Duo's ears pricked up, noting the echo on linoleum tile. The footsteps ended, but not outside the door; perhaps some feet down the hall. Maybe a neighbor. Duo glanced back at Trowa, knowing he'd stalled too long, then opened the door.
A young man, about Trowa's age, stood in the hallway, one hand on his suit jacket, the other hand buried in a pocket. A clatter, rattle, and he brought out a set of keys. He was dressed to an elegant degree that was completely out of place for Trowa's neighborhood. The young man looked up to see Duo, and his eyes went wide. He stepped back slightly.
"Oh, I'm sorry, this... " He frowned, his light tenor trailing off as he stared at the door behind Duo. His eyes narrowed, and he tossed his head slightly; the white-blond strands, gently curling, fell immediately back into his eyes. "This is Trowa's apartment."
"Yeah," Duo said, stepping back, opening the door wider. "He's been expecting you."
"Ah." The young man didn't move, staring at Duo expectantly.
"I'm Duo." Duo managed a chuckle. "Maxwell. Pleased to meetcha."
"Pleasure's mine, Duo," the young man said, stepping through the door. He smiled at Trowa, but hesitated between the sofa and the pantry-kitchen. "Trowa?" The young man cut his eyes towards Duo and back again to Trowa, a question in the clear blue-green depths.
"He's cool," Trowa said, a clear warning in his tone. "He won't say anything."
"Ah." The young man smiled at Duo, a breathtaking expression, and moved to stand by Trowa. "You remembered," he breathed, and placed a hand on Trowa's chest, as though reassuring himself or perhaps staking his claim. His fingers were tanned, dark against Trowa's pale skin; perfect gold on battered silver.
"I... " Trowa blinked, and shook his head. "No, Quatre." It was only a whisper, but Duo caught the sound nonetheless, and parsed it into a word.
Cat, Duo thought, but that wasn't right. Too breathy, a hint of a second syllable. Perhaps something foreign, or one of those fancy made-up names the rich folks liked. He made a face, realizing he'd introduced himself and the man hadn't done the same courtesy in return. Usually he was the one making other folks wait to find out his name; Duo was irked to have the tables turned on him so neatly.
"Trowa... " Quatre's voice was a breathless whisper, hopeful.
Trowa sighed. He cupped Quatre's face in his hand, and Quatre laughed softly, pleased, his fingers playing with Trowa's nipple. "He's Hilde's brother," Trowa murmured, not looking Duo's way.
"You said he's cool," Quatre protested, frowning a little. "Is he--"
"No," Trowa replied, cutting off Quatre's question. "It's not that. It's just... " He shrugged, dropping his chin.
Duo wasn't sure what they were talking about, but he couldn't deny his curiosity. Never had, really; it was exacerbated by the fact that Quatre's reaction to his presence made Duo suspect something wasn't entirely legit. He hesitated, uncertain whether to stay or go; he halted when Quatre called out, a soft, cultured sweetness of cologne and champagne in the dirt and dark of Trowa's apartment.
"Stay," Quatre said, earnestly. His hands were running up and down Trowa's chest, then one hand slipped down into Trowa's boxers, movement under faded cloth became a quick jerking motion. Trowa groaned and turned his face away from Duo; he angled his body, but Quatre shifted him back again. "Watch," Quatre whispered, and it was somewhere between a command and a plea.
He looked at Duo from under his eyelashes, a hopeful look, almost sultry; his upper body remarkably still, a contrast to the sharp, curt motions of his hand in Trowa's boxers. Duo froze, then stepped back into the apartment, leaving the door purposefully open behind him. Trowa's eyes slipped closed; his body responded to Quatre's touch.
"Watch," Quatre repeated, stronger; challenging Duo to deny him.
Duo frowned, and glanced out into the open hallway. Suddenly he wished he hadn't been so ornery before, and delayed so long just to get a rise out of Trowa. But of course the damn bastard wouldn't just say he had a lover on the side with some kinky ideas - and of all things, Duo didn't want to watch his sister's guy do it with someone else. Anyone else.
Not the least of which was because - and Duo fought valiantly to squash the taunting voice - he'd never quite gotten over the fact that Hilde had won Trowa so easily. Duo had tried for a year and all he'd gotten was a smirk and a shrug. He tapped his fingers on the doorknob, pretending to consider the request carefully, and then shut the door behind him. Duo flipped the lock and turned, staring at the two men.
"Good," Quatre breathed at Duo's acquiescence, and stared into Trowa's pleasure-creased face. "I knew one day you'd let me," he whispered, he caressed Trowa's face, fingertips across skin, then into Trowa's mouth. "Suck," he ordered.
Duo shivered at the tone, and started to sink down. Something felt wrong, and he pulled his braid around to the front, cradling it protectively. He wanted to hunch in on himself; he noted absently that Trowa seemed to be doing the same, pivoting just enough that the hand in his boxers was half-hidden from Duo's view.
"No," Quatre said, turning to stare at Duo across the darkened room. "Stay where you can see us. I want you to see us," he hissed, softly. His eyes glimmered in the light through the window, masked by smoke and grime. The yellow taint made Quatre's face and hair seem to glow.
Duo crawled forward, curled against the wall facing the sofa. If he looked to the side, he could see both men clearly. His boots scraped loudly in the apartment's somnolent hush; Trowa turned his face away, shoulders tensed.
"Please, don't," Trowa whispered. "Why can't--"
"Let's not, then," Quatre said, removing his hand with a sigh.
Trowa whimpered deep in his throat; Duo would not have caught the sound but for his excellent hearing. Otherwise Trowa's expression was inscrutable.
"I'm sorry." Quatre glanced sideways, appearing to include Duo in the apology. Quatre crossed his arms, turning to stare out the window. "I just thought you'd finally--" He cut off his words with a shrug.
"But I do," Trowa interrupted. He sighed, and placed his hands on Quatre's chest, smoothing down the fine shirt, the dark suit coat. "Stay," he coaxed, and from the tilt of his head it wasn't clear whether he meant Quatre or Duo.
Quatre opened his mouth, but Trowa put a finger across his lips. Quatre raised an eyebrow, clearly startled, and didn't move. Trowa sank to his knees before Quatre, unzipping his pants, hands slipping inside. He brought out Quatre's cock, half-hard, and sucked it into his mouth without preamble or teasing. Quatre hissed again, and a small smile appeared on his lips. He placed one hand on Trowa's head, guiding the motions, and the other hand dropped to his side.
Duo sprawled his legs casually, hands braced on the floor beside him. He took a breath and relaxed his face into a careless smirk, as though he cared little for the view. The rich young man - for undoubtedly that´s what he was - must have so little risk in life, if having someone watch him mess around with a former companion was such a turn-on. Duo wasn't sure of the exact specifics - Hilde would probably know - but he was pretty sure seeing a companion after-hours was frowned on. Perhaps that was the source of Trowa's fear of blackmail; Duo filed the thought away and focused on the moment.
Duo let his gaze travel up Trowa's curved back, to the broad shoulders, down the muscled arms. He fought back the rising jealousy, studying the long-fingered hand caressing and scratching at Quatre's balls.
"Yeah," Quatre moaned, leaning against the window. "Trowa, your mouth is so... "
He trailed off, and raised his free hand to unbutton his shirt, pulling it open to reveal flawless skin, rippled muscles down to the still-belted pants. Quatre played with a nipple, his gaze on Duo, until Quatre's eyes closed in a haze of pleasure. He grunted, thrusting his hips suddenly, but Trowa rode with the action. Quatre froze, stomach caved in, chest heaving.
Trowa pulled back, and didn't even wipe his mouth. He came to his feet, his back to Duo, and pressed against Quatre, kissing him deeply. Quatre's hands moved to Trowa's hips, pushing down the boxers to reveal a tightly muscled, rounded ass above powerful thighs. Duo bit his lower lip, imagining pounding into that ass, and had to shift slightly.
Quatre's smile grew, watching over Trowa's shoulder. His fingers prodded Trowa's ass, pulling the cheeks wide, exposing Trowa. Duo bit back a pleased gasp and resituated himself. Trowa didn't notice or no longer cared, but the sight was bringing Duo's drives to the forefront. He unconsciously palmed his growing erection through his jeans.
"Yeah," Quatre whispered, the well-bred accent falling away. "Look," he murmured, and pressed a dry finger into Trowa's ass. It moved with an ease that indicated Trowa was already slick and well-prepared. "Mine," he mouthed.
Duo wanted to growl, but could only nod. Trowa tensed in Quatre's arms, then pushed back against the finger. Quatre laughed, nipping at Trowa's shoulder. A city streetlight flickered outside, illuminating the two men in stark contrast before fading back to the burning grayness. In the dull light of the oven's clock and the cable box's display, the men were amber and red, white and gold, their mouths pressed together as they rubbed, hips thrusting, soft moans filtered through lips and burning on skin.
Trowa twisted, facing the window, an offering. Quatre stepped behind him, half-blocking Trowa from Duo's view. Trowa's boxers were caught around his ankles but he made no move to remove them; Quatre was still fully dressed, but his cock was hard, pointing upwards in a scimitar curve, ready to slice Trowa apart. He stroked himself with one hand, running the other hand down Trowa's spine, and smiled again. Glancing back to make sure Duo was watching, Quatre held his cock, positioning it at Trowa's ass, before driving upwards in one thrust.
Duo bit back a groan, and unbuttoned his jeans, shoving his hand into his crotch. His cock leapt into his hand. He tightened his grip, imagining the muscles of Trowa's ass clenched around him.
Quatre made no noise, except for a moan between gritted teeth, and began to thrust into Trowa. His hands were tight on Trowa's hips; when he moved them, his handprint was whiter on Trowa's skin, paper-white, bleach-white, faint scars and lacerations jolted into life within the print, angry red under the pressure. Quatre leaned forward, one hand wrapping around Trowa's body; in the reflection on the window, Duo could see Quatre's hand wrapping possessively around a thick cock, pumping it in counter-time.
Trowa groaned and leaned back, his hips pushing against Quatre. His head lolled back to rest on Quatre's shoulder, hair falling into his face as he swayed. His hands were flat on the window. Duo wondered if any passed by, would they look up to see Trowa, lost, being unmercifully fucked, relentlessly dragged to a place where only he and his lover existed in that moment.
Duo stroked faster, timing his movements with Quatre's hand on Trowa's cock. He shut out the speculation of what it looked like when Trowa was buried hilt-deep in Hilde. He so didn't need to go there, not when he was so close, biting back his moans, his gaze fixed on Quatre's suit-clad body ramming against Trowa's bare ass.
No, his mind whispered, don't look away. This is what you want: someone's ass for you, only you - even as part of him recoiled from the humiliation of knowing that Quatre was getting off on his helpless lust. It made Duo want to rise to his feet, take back his actions, leave without a backwards glance, but his muscles had turned to jelly, rotten in the trash, skin become mold covering the surface. He recoiled in disgust at himself, but pumped faster, twisting dry, wanting the friction and pain to remind him he was only an observer.
Quatre threw back his head, gasping; Trowa gave a guttural groan, muscles corded on his arms, toes digging into the linoleum tile, entire body tensed. Trowa's cock jerked against the hold, shooting semen onto the window, spurting rapidly. Quatre thrust faster, hips pistoning. He didn't release his hold on Trowa's cock. Trowa moaned, writhing, pushing backwards. Quatre's hand clawed at Trowa's hip, five thrusts, six; Duo had to close his eyes, vision blanked by the sudden rush of heat into his groin. He cupped the end of his cock with a hand to catch his own fluids, and bit his lip to stifle his sigh of release.
There was a second cry, softer than Trowa's, falling to a low whine. Duo opened his eyes to see Quatre leaning against Trowa, arms around Trowa's waist.
Duo stared down at the jism in his hand and wrinkled his nose. Annoyed, he looked around for something to wipe his hand on, and saw Trowa's pile of dirty clothes. Scooting quietly along the wall, supporting himself one-handed, he grabbed a sock and wiped off his hand.
"Throw something this way," Quatre asked. Duo found himself picking out a shirt and tossing it towards the window.
Trowa chuckled, murmuring something too low for even Duo to hear. Quatre caught the shirt one-handed, awkwardly, and slowly pulled out with a whispered apology. Duo was startled to see Quatre cleaning Trowa, quite tenderly, and then cleaning himself, before leaning around Trowa to wipe the window as well. Then he turned, tossing the shirt back onto the pile. He tucked his cock away, zipping up his pants, while Trowa pulled up his boxers with a frown.
"Thanks," Quatre told Duo, and his eyes were shining. "I've always wanted... " He shrugged, and suddenly looked much shyer and considerably younger, less self-assured.
Duo started to speak, opened his mouth, and closed it. He really had no idea what to say.
Trowa chuckled again, and shook his head. His mood seemed lighter, as though perhaps he'd come to terms with Duo's presence and put it out of his mind. Or, Duo pondered, perhaps for that time, he simply had not existed for Trowa; only Quatre had. Duo frowned, uncertain.
"Never thought I'd see him speechless," Trowa told Quatre. He kissed Quatre quickly on the cheek, a hand trailed across Quatre's arm, and he moved to the small pantry-kitchen along one wall. "Got time for a beer?"
"Yeah. Cathy's decided the ratio is an hour per beer," Quatre said. "And we're allowed two beers, so... " He checked his watch with a wry look. "One more beer. And maybe I can talk you into working on her some more? She gave the nanny the night off, again, as soon as you'd left." His annoyed tone told Duo this was a common occurrence, though Duo wasn't entirely sure of the specifics.
"Just because she's good at guilt doesn't mean I inherited the skill, too," Trowa replied. "Maybe she likes dealing with Ariel." He handed Quatre a beer, and opened one for himself. Raising the bottle halfway to his mouth, he halted, and turned to stare at Duo, his gaze assessing. "Well, Duo."
"Yeah, Trowa." Duo stood up, still a bit shaky. He dug a grin out of somewhere and plastered it on his face, surprised to see Quatre respond in kind, a delighted expression. "It was real."
"Real," Quatre repeated, and flushed. Once again it looked remarkably out of place on his adult features. "It was. Thank for not leaving. I just... " He shrugged and stared down at the cheap beer in his hand. "I get tired of always doing the proper thing. I've always wanted to... " He waved the beer in his hand, towards the window.
"I get it," Duo said, and in some way, he did. He wasn't sure how he felt about being part of one rich boy's wish to be a little wild, but he couldn't complain too much. He'd come, after all, even if only by his own hand. He shrugged, and flipped his braid over his shoulder. "Gotta jet, man. I'll see you in two weeks."
"You changing schedules?" Trowa raised an eyebrow, twitched his head until the hair fell out of his eyes. Quatre looked confused, but Trowa didn't appear to notice.
"Yeah." Duo threw the deadbolt, and put his hand on the doorknob. "Hilde's not, if that's what you're wondering."
Trowa nodded; clearly he had been. Twice a month would be preferable over once, but it had been Duo's choice to make the jump to a different pattern, not Hilde's. She wasn't willing to put up with the drawbacks, but then, Duo reflected, she wouldn't have put up with being ordered to watch someone else fuck a person she'd once desired, either.
My cock does nothing but get me in trouble, Duo lamented, and slipped from the apartment. The door swung shut behind him and he could hear the faint clink of a beer bottle set down, the wet noises of deep kisses and groans. He considered plugging his ears with his fingers, but settled for shoving his hands into his jeans pockets and striding down the hallway, putting as much distance between himself and that apartment but looking casual about it.
He was quite sure if anyone had a nose half as good as his, they'd know just how much he was faking it.
He caught her scent at forty-fifth northwest and east W, and lost it halfway down the block. Backtracking, Duo stared up at the elegant sign for the underground mall, noting the expensive stores. He half-shrugged to himself; he was bored, with time to kill before he had to leave the city. Pushing open the tall glass doors, Duo followed the few other mid-day foot traffic down the broad escalators, sniffing cautiously until he picked up the traces of her shampoo, a bit of deodorant, maybe some laundry detergent. Mixed together, it was undeniably she, standing at the window to a gift shop, staring down at something in the window with a soft, sorrowful look.
She was married to one of Trowa's clients; she'd even seemed to like Trowa quite well. Duo had been surprised; he would have expected her to detest Trowa, or at least resent him. The client, his wife, the companion and his lover: it sounded like a bad soap opera to Duo.
"Mrs. Yuy," Duo said, coming up alongside her. She jumped, blinking at him a few times, then a smile grew across her face so wide he couldn't help but grin sheepishly. "Hey. You're shopping?"
"For Heero," she said, and put a finger to her lips, as though promising him to secrecy. Duo nodded, solemn, and immediately Relena's smile was back. Two men in dark suits stepped closer, and she pouted at them, waving them away. "You two, relax," she chided them, and if two grown men with radios in their ears and dark glasses could look like reprimanded little boys, they managed it. "This is Mister Maxwell. He's a... friend," she said, giving him a hesitant look.
"And I thought we were on a first name basis," he replied, dissembling hurt. "We've got mutual friends," he told the two men. They stared him up and down, then nodded to each other and backed away, disappearing into the crowds in the underground avenue.
"You started it," she said, tossing her head with a little pout. "Calling me Mrs. Yuy."
"You are, aren't you?" Duo crossed his arms and leaned against the glass, looking sideways at the knick-knacks displayed in the window. "So... you're planning on getting your husband a ceramic fairy?"
Relena flushed, and made a face. "No. Maybe I would. If I thought it would surprise him." She shrugged and turned, heading down the walkway, walking slowly enough to note the shops but making no signs of entering any. "He's at his appointment right now, so I figured I could slip away and get some errands done."
"I'd suggest a tie. Heero works in an office, right?"
"Technically," Relena said, laughing brightly. "He's my head of security."
"Oh." Duo stepped back, eyeing her up and down. "Should I be in fear of my life if I hang out with you?"
"Only from Heero." She winked and slipped her arm through Duo's; he stiffened at the familiar touch, then relaxed into it. Relena giggled, a girlish affectation that didn't seem out of place, suddenly. "But he's met you, so you needn't worry. He liked you."
"He did?" Duo scratched the back of his head. "Could've fooled me."
"He's a professional meanie," Relena whispered, then jerked Duo to a stop. "Oh, here's one of my errands." They were standing in front of a pharmacy, shelves displaying the usual candies, cheap toys, and office supplies. "I have to get a prescription filled."
Duo followed her in, chatting with her about the weather, her job as head of the Peacecraft Conflict Resolution Organization, and her parental leave while she and Heero took their turn at becoming parents. He noted a tension in her voice and shifted the conversation away from children, onto television shows and books. She admitted she rarely had time to watch television, as she dug out a cord from around her neck, skimming it over the sensor-pad. She punched in her personal code, accepted the bag of medicines, and they left the shop.
"You haven't gone with an insert?" Duo nodded towards the small tag, about the size of military dog tags, rimmed in pink plastic. Relena was dropping it under the neck of her slim cream-colored blouse - silk, if he was any judge, and possibly quite old, as well. "And pink. That's stylish."
Relena rolled her eyes. "No, that's Heero. My husband has this thing about me not liking pink." She tucked the bag into her purse, and slipped her arm through Duo's again. "So whenever he can, he gets me little things in pink. Like the tag-rim. He found this place that made them so families could identify the parent's tag from their kid's, and naturally... "
"I think you like it," Duo teased.
"Maybe, but don't tell him that," Relena said, then sighed. "Heero has the insert." She waved her free hand, finger pressed against the fleshy pad of her thumb where a sub-epidermal tag would be surgically inserted. "He's former military," as if that explained it all. "But I... " She glanced around, smiling absently to the two men in black suits still shadowing them, and leaned close to whisper in Duo's ear. "Sometimes I like to take mine off and pretend I'm anyone I want to be."
"Ah." Duo smiled down at her - she was only two inches or so shorter, he noted - and squeezed her hand. "You're a rebel." Relena suddenly looked sad, dropping her eyes. Duo frowned, confused, and was quiet for several paces, until he noticed a sports shop up ahead. "How about in there? Might be something your husband would like," he said, jerking his head in the shop's direction. "Maybe a knife, or some of those insulated socks that heat up on their own?"
"His feet do get cold in winter," Relena said, a bit doubtfully.
"Let's check it out, if you've got time," Duo replied, and Relena laughed, following him in.
The entire spree took only ten minutes; Relena turned out to be a woman who didn't care for dallying over every little item. She grilled Duo thoroughly on his knowledge of knives, which was considerable, he knew, but she didn't blink. She narrowed it down to three choices, eyed each, listened to his suggestions, considered the prices, and carefully picked the one she wanted. The clerk wrapped the knife and holster, and Relena accepted the bag with an embarrassed but pleased smile.
"So how long until your husband's appointment is over?" Duo wondered what it was for, but Relena hadn't said, and he didn't want to offend her. "Got time for more shopping, or should you be heading back?"
"He'll call," she replied, looking around at the shops. "I don't often get to shop, actually. I never really have time, and Heero always gets a little paranoid in places like these."
"I imagine," Duo said, remembering Saturday night. Heero hadn't exactly given off the vibes of a man who relaxed easily in any area that he hadn't scoped out six times and knew all exits were covered. Even with a few drinks in him, he'd seemed utterly in control; Duo had been intrigued at the notion of what it'd take to reduce a man like that to a ball of quivering, begging, sexual tension. Once he might've done the work to find out, but this was a couple obviously dedicated to each other. Even he wouldn't be so stupid as to intrude on that; he squashed his instincts, strictly reminding himself to stay out of it, even if his gut said they should know.
He yanked his attention back to Relena, realizing they'd stopped outside a women's fashion store.
"I just don't really need any of this stuff," Relena said. "My organization has a sponsor who buys a new pair of shoes every month." She winked at Duo, a bit awkwardly, but it was a charming attempt nonetheless. "I can't see why. I only have two feet."
"Hm, then perhaps... " Duo looked through the window, at the counter in the middle of the store. He grinned, and snagged Relena by the arm. "Come with me, Mrs. Yuy!"
"I'm Relena," she protested, but laughed, letting herself be dragged along. She waved over her shoulder to the goons in black, letting them know it was only fun. Inside the store, she came to a halt in front of the counter and looked around at the little bottles. "Okay. What's this for?"
"Perfume," Duo said. "Chicks dig perfume."
Relena arched an eyebrow.
"You were wearing a leather skirt when I met you," Duo pointed out. He leaned over, checking out her legs, and leered. "A lot shorter than that lovely peach number, I might add."
"I didn't hear you complaining," she shot right back, and pretended to fiddle with several of the perfume bottles. She studied the label, gave Duo a bewildered look, and sprayed it onto her wrist. Sniffing it, she shook her head. "I like the scent... but I have no idea what it is."
Duo could smell it easily, across the short distance between them. It made his nose itch, but he did his best not to sneeze. "It's new-mown hay, Relena-girl."
"New what?"
"Hay." Duo laughed. "Like... wild grass."
"Why would someone want wild grass on their wrist?" She scrubbed furiously at her wrist with a tissue. "What's this one... . Rain?" She made a face. "Oh, that's disgusting."
"No, wait," Duo said, catching the bottle before she set it back. He sprayed a bit onto a tissue, and burst into a smile. "No, this really is what rain smells like, a little. Here."
She sniffed dutifully. "Oh. That's... I like that. That's rain?"
"Yeah." Duo leaned against the counter, enjoying her surprised expression, the hint of pleasure. Mostly, he was liking that he was the one to put that look there.
"I want this one." Relena waved over one of the clerks. "Is there... a really small bottle of this? Like a sampler?"
"I think so," the clerk girl replied. "I'll go check."
"I hope I can afford it," she whispered, low enough that he suspected she hadn't meant to say it out loud. She put the sampler bottle back with a shy smile. "So... how do you know what real rain smells like?"
"Oh, I get around," Duo teased, putting on an air of smug self-confidence. "I travel between cities."
"Really?" Her eyes went wide, and she barely noticed the clerk returning with the sampler bottle. Relena paid, tucked the little bottle into her purse, but had an air of impatient curiosity the whole time. Once they were alone, she stepped close to Duo, again giving the impression that she didn't want anyone to overhear her questions. "What's it like? In other cities?"
"Same as this one, mostly," Duo replied, laughing. "Might be a different language and a few different laws, but it's still people, subways, jobs, grocery stores. Same everywhere... mostly."
"Mostly," Relena said, catching his mumbled addendum. She didn't question it, but instead grilled him about New Tokyo and New Beijing. "I've always wanted to see the skyscrapers. I hear for special events they light them at night. They're supposed to be gorgeous."
"I guess," Duo said, then relented. "Next time I head that way, I'll get you a souvenir. Then you can at least tell people you know someone who's been there."
"Would you?" Relena's smile went from startled to amazed in nothing flat, and the next thing he knew, she was hugging him tightly. She broke away, grinning, a faint pink suffusing her cheeks. "Sorry! I got carried away. But New Beijing! New Tokyo! And New Angela, too?"
"New Angela," Duo nodded, miming checking off a list. "I'll notify my social secretary to put it on my itinerary."
Relena made a face and poked him in the arm. "Oh, you. You always tease me."
"Do not," Duo replied, amiable. "Haven't known you long enough for it to be an 'always'," he pointed out. "Besides, when I promise, I follow through."
"Good." Relena beamed, and swung the arm holding her purchases. "I like having something to look forward to." Her smile turned sad for a moment, but then she brightened. "So what do you do, that you travel?"
"Jack of all trades."
"A what?" Relena gave him an annoyed look. "No, really."
"I'm a mechanic," Duo said, and chuckled at her surprised look. "I specialize in antique engines."
"Wow." She pondered that for a moment. "My dishwasher's been making a strange noise."
Duo threw his head back and laughed, then lowered his chin to grin widely at her. "How did I know that was coming?"
"Why?" Relena did her best to look innocent. "You get asked that a lot?"
"Maybe. How often do you get asked... " He ran his gaze down her body: the hint of a lacy bra at the edge of her blouse's wide collar, the almost girlish breasts, the slim waist and hips hiding under elegant and conservative blouse and skirt. Duo leaned over to whisper in her ear, his voice low and husky. "Any chance you happen to be wearing garters?"
Her mouth dropped open, then she paused, narrowing her eyes. She pulled herself upright, and did her best to sashay, just a little. She glanced at Duo sideways, under her eyelashes. "Wouldn't you like to know." It wasn't quite sultry, but pretty good for what was probably a first try.
Duo chuckled. He was tempted to be honest: hell yeah. But it was best to let her enjoy her moment of rebellion. He thought back to Trowa's friend, seeking something wild, something different, outside the everyday things. Duo had felt vaguely used, and it had taken the night to shake it off; he could have replaced himself with a cardboard cut-out and Trowa's friend might not have really cared, so long as someone's eyes were watching. But with Relena, he was most definitely the impetus in this conversation. He realized she must feel safe with him, for some peculiar reason, and he wasn't sure whether to be dismayed or flattered.
"Come on," he finally said, taking her by the arm. "Let's get you back to your husband before I'm tempted into making a dishonest woman of you."
"Really!" She laughed, and he realized she didn't know what he meant. He covered his surprise by chuckling as well, but filed it away in his mind.
He'd have a great deal to think about on his upcoming trip, assuming he didn't change his mind and stick around to see what else he could discover. It was rare that city people would intrigue him so, but he'd never been one to walk away from the challenge of fixing and keeping a new toy.
Or two.
End Part 2
(:./sol/howl2)
