Artless and Assuming Part 3

III - DUO

 

The bar, it turns out, exists at the other end of the anonymous corridor Duo had led them down. He’s left the bourbon he had under the bed, on the premise that if he’s going to drink tonight, he needs at least the safeguard of either running out of money or someone sober to tell him when it’s time to stop. He’s hoping by the time he goes back up there he’ll either have no time before needing to check out, or will have forgotten about the bottle. 

 

At any rate, he’s nursing his liquor in brooding silence, alone on the row of stools at the bar. The party has already died down to nothing in the ballroom, with not even the lights left to attend. The place smells of candle smoke and empty spaces. 

 

“I’m told drinking alone isn’t healthy.” 

 

Without invitation, Heero takes the empty stool beside him. 

 

He catches the bartender’s eye and taps two fingers on the bar. It being the kind of place with both bowties and heavy drinkers, the bartender doesn’t need further information. 

 

Duo hunches over his glass, neither keen to have company nor inclined to tell Heero to get lost. The bartender pours out a measure of liquor and brings it over. It being the kind of place it is, the man also has the sense to take himself out of earshot, simply leaving them with a bell should they need him. 

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Heero asks, once they’re alone.  

 

“God no,” Duo snorts into his glass. He was sober before but he isn’t now. The drink makes the world that crucial bit softer and sadder, makes it easier for his mouth to run ahead of his brain on wit whilst avoiding all depth. “No offence, Yuy, but not only do I not want to talk about it, just trust me, this isn’t your area of expertise.”

 

Heero inspects the glass set in front of him, sniffing the liquor before sampling it.

 

“What makes you so sure?”

 

“Pssh, I know you,” Duo scoffs, swirling old Johnny Walker around to make his point. “I know everyone.” And then he stops dead because Heero is staring at him, and it occurs to Duo like a slap that he does not, in fact, know everyone. That’s a big damn lie in fact, because Wufei had sure surprised the pants off of him this evening.

 

He lets his elbow fall to the bar and his cheek into the fist that’s clutching his glass. “Shit,” Duo concludes.

 

One of Heero’s eyebrows lifts.

 

Duo’s mind is going places. If he was that wrong about Wufei what else is he wrong about? Who else? Duo squints at the man next to him as if the answers are written in small print around his hairline and then asks. “You….have sex, right?”

 

A pause. Heero’s eyes skip to one side, and then other eyebrow lifts. “With… other people?”

 

“Other peop- yes, with other people! What kinda lame-ass sex do you have alone?”

 

Heero shrugs the shrug that universally means ‘you tell me’ and ‘you know exactly what I mean’ all at the same time. “I have feelings.”

 

“You have feelings,” Duo tells the Johnny Walker in disbelief. “The man has feelings. I’m dying.”

 

“I assume,” Heero says, nettled, “Given this line of questioning, you messed up a relationship this evening. I’m using the word ‘relationship’ generously.”

 

“That’s cruel, buddy. Be nice, I’m bugging out.”

 

Heero grunts into his drink, which is mushy sympathy from him indeed. “So what happened?”

 

“I don’t even know. I don’t even know how it all went wrong. I was just…it was fine, and then things got weird, and really intense, and then it was just a fucking mess.” 

 

Heero weighs the information for a moment. “Are you going to tell me who?” 

 

“Yeahhh…no. No, not really-“

 

“It’s Wufei,” Heero says promptly. 

 

“Oh come on!” 

 

“I already knew. You two were squaring up over the dance floor all evening. I half expected him to order you outside to duel, and you to blow something up.” Heero reflectively looks up to the ceiling and smirks. “I wasn’t actually far wrong. What did you do?”

 

“Me? I didn’t do anything? I- well, ok, I messed up, but that was not my fault. And then it was ok, I thought, but it got intense and I got a little uncomfortable, and then I fucking realised he’s… Shit. Listen, you have to keep this confidential, or I’m a dead man.” 

 

“I won’t tell.” 

 

“I mean it, Yuy. Not a fucking word to anyone,” Duo says, fiercely. “He was freaked out and fucked off enough that I know. He’s going to go nuclear if he finds out I’ve blabbed. He’ll fucking implode.”  

 

“Then don’t tell me.”

 

“I can’t explain if I don’t tell you!”

 

“Then tell me.” 

 

Duo lowers his voice, leaning close enough for Heero to smell the whiskey on his breath. “He’s… That was his first time.”  

 

“Oh.” 

 

“Yeah. Big ‘Oh’. Or no big ‘oh’, actually,” Duo amends. “We didn’t get as far as any ‘oh’. God it went so wrong.” 

 

“What made you think he had any experience?” 

 

“Why wouldn’t he? Who hasn’t? We’re all twenty-whatever-we-are and he’s like Mr. Grown-up over there with the Preventers, and I mean- ok, actually, I see your point, I know it’s Wufei, but still.”

 

“It is Wufei,” Heero agrees, wholeheartedly. 

 

“Yes, ok, it’s Wufei but- what? No, you don’t understand. He was… giving me eyes. Looking at me. Making a look like, like,” Duo waves a hand, scrabbling for the words.  “Like there’s a floor somewhere in this damn hotel he wanted to nail me against.”

 

“Maybe he did want that,” Heero says, leaning back slightly out of Duo’s intensity. “Relena often looks like she wants to kill someone. That doesn’t mean she can, will, or knows what she’s doing with a firearm.” 

 

“That is a very weird comparison. Let’s not go there,” Duo begs. “God, this is so fucked up.” He buries his nose into his glass and drinks. “I just didn’t think he’d be like that. Or not fucking say anything. Not one fucking hint! What was he thinking?” 

 

“Wufei’s sensitive,” Heero says. 

 

Duo chokes on his whiskey. Heero politely waits for him to finish washing his sinuses with liquor and then repeats himself, just in case Duo hadn’t heard. 

 

“He’s what-? How do you know?” 

 

“I asked Quatre.” 

 

“Of course you did,” Duo says weakly. “What did he say?”

 

“Just that. He’s sensitive, and very proud.” Heero gives him what passes for a reproachful look. “If you overreacted about it, then you probably hurt his feelings.” 

 

“I know. Shit.” Duo scrubs at his forehead. “I yelled.”

 

Heero grunts again, hands folded on the bar. “Emotions can be controlled, but you can’t necessarily make them disappear just because you don’t want to deal with them. And controlling your feelings is sometimes just a recourse taken when you didn’t know what to do with the emotion in the first place. And he’s a perfectionist. He wants sex, but he doesn’t want first-time sex.” 

 

“Right,” Duo says slowly. “He’s gotta do it right. Oh fuck,” he adds, the colour draining from his face. 

 

“What?” 

 

“Nothing just fuck,” Duo says, he takes a big breath in, clicks his tongue and sighs. “Fuck,” he repeats. 

 

Heero stares. Duo drums his fingers on the bar and then yells, explosively, just once. Heero damn near pings clean off the stool. 

 

Duo picks up his glass like he didn’t just bark, and then catches Heero’s expression and laughs. “Sit down.” 

 

“Was that a joke?” Heero asks, looking like he wished he’d brought a bomb squad with him. 

 

“My whole life’s a joke,” Duo grouches. “Everything I do goes wrong.” 

 

“That’s not true.” 

 

“Oh yeah? I helped your lame ass out in good faith and you gutted my Gundam, you son of a bitch.” Duo laughs again.  

 

“We’re not talking about me.” 

 

“Why not?” Duo says, “Might as well. Tell us your business, Yuy. You’re really not with anyone?” Duo waggles his eyebrows and purses his lips in a little two-tone whistle of euphemism. “I thought you and her highness?” 

 

“Gentlemen don’t kiss and tell.” 

 

“Oh-ho! So you are!” 

 

“Am I?” Heero says, with an inscrutable look. 

 

“Ah, come on, we’re pals. You can tell me.”

 

Heero shifts his weight on the bar stool and then leans towards him. “Can you keep this confidential?” 

 

“Asshole, you know I can.” 

 

“So can I. Especially when neither answer is to my advantage.” 

 

“You’re an ass, Yuy.”

 

“So you’ve said.” 

 

“I can’t believe you won’t share your secrets.” Duo makes a show of being bad tempered about it, all exaggerated gesture. “With me, a friend for the ages. I tell you all kinds of things. But you’re not a virgin?”

 

“I suppose I’m not, no.” 

 

“I- ok.” Duo stops clowning, “I’ll butt out.” 

 

“If you don’t mind. I think we can assume you aren’t either.”

 

“I am definitely not,” Duo says, accepting the change of pace and running with it. “I’m trying to think if this is the dumbest situation I’ve been in or not. Maybe not.” 

 

“Oh?” 

 

“You decide,” Duo tells him, “How about this one? So, like a year ago or so, I was up sweeping, and things get a bit boring on the old tin can, you know. So we hit up a night’s leave on this colony, and I’m talking to this guy, just passing time, but it’s getting friendly. And then his girl comes up, and she is pissed! She thinks I’m trying to steal her guy,” Duo pauses and rubs his nose. “And she goes off on one, and in the middle of it all, she gets real loud, and just bawls across the bar, over all the other people talking, the music, ‘Dykes like you need to keep your hands off our men!’.”  

 

Heero looks at him blankly. 

 

Duo bursts out laughing. “Right? My fucking reaction entirely. And she genuinely thought that I was a lesbian. I mean,” he gestures to himself. “I was wearing a tank and jeans at the time.” He laughs again at the memory. “It was fucking ridiculous.” 

 

“What happened after that?” Heero asks. 

 

Duo laughs and shrugs. “Eh, I said I was a guy, she was kinda embarrassed. You want another drink?”

 

Heero rings for the bartender. “We’ll have one more. Just one,” he adds for Duo’s ears only. “I need to go after this. And I won’t tell you my dirty secrets but I can share one thing, if it matters so much.” 

 

Duo titters, “Sure. Thank you, man of mystery, I’ll take the crumb your offering. What is it?”

 

“A memory,” Heero says. The glasses are topped off and the bartender dismissed back to his den beyond the bar. “You’ll like it. It’s funny too.” 

 

“I’m all ears. Spill.”   

 

Heero touches the edges of their glasses together, and spills. 

 

“Before I met J, I spent a while in the company of a man named Lowe - look him up if you want, but he hardly exists. We…fell into each other’s company when I was about five or six, I suppose. Maybe older. His job meant he travelled a lot, and I went with him. We were drifters, but that was fine by me. I mostly called him ‘old man’ but he wasn’t old. Maybe thirty? Forty? Hard to say. It’s not important, anyway. 

 

“One day, and this was still in the early days of him looking after me, he took a job in a city. When we arrived, he walked me to a park and told me this time, I couldn’t come with him. It was cold, and I bitched, so he gave me his jacket. That’s my memory - waiting in the park for my old man to come back, wearing his jacket. The collar smelt of cigarettes and the pocket smelt of gun oil from the pistol I’d only just learnt how to shoot.”  

 

“Mm…” Duo says. Just that. A noise of recognition; maybe just the smell of cigarettes and gun oil. Heero smiles slightly. 

 

“He was gone a long time. I waited. Circled a few times if anyone was watching but always came back to the bench. Waited. The sun was going down when he came back and I was cold, and exhausted. Lonely,” Heero admits. “He hadn’t said how long he would be. He came into the park and saw me from clear across it, and he came right over. Didn’t walk, jogged in a straight line, over the grass, flower beds, you name it. Came straight over and picked me up.” 

 

Duo’s mouth lifts at the corner. 

 

“I wasn’t particularly grateful,” Heero says, tilting his glass. “I scolded him. And you know what he said? ‘Stop looking like that. You know I couldn’t leave without my jacket.’”

 

Duo laughs. 

 

“So you get it,” Heero says, eyes glittering. “It’s not all that funny, but people who get it, laugh.” 

 

“I get it,” Duo agrees. “Bet you were pissed as a cat in a cold bath.” 

 

“I was,” Heero snorts. “Anyway. You get it. Most people would say that shouldn’t be a happy memory.” 

 

“Yeah. You’re not supposed to feel fond of the unwholesome shit.” 

 

“No,” Heero nods. He takes a mouthful from his glass and then cuts the ease of the conversation dead when he adds, “But that was just the joke, not the whole story.” 

 

“What?” 

 

“Jokes blur the details. You get to tell them over and over until it’s just a joke. ‘A long time’ lets the listener decide how long, but I remember sleeping on that bench. I remember it being night. Not just a day. It was a few, I think. He ran over because he couldn’t believe his damn luck that I was still there.” 

 

“Still…” Duo says, smile freezing in discomfort. 

 

“There was a data chip sewn into the lining of the collar,” Heero says, tilting his glass again. “He came back for that.” 

 

“Heero.” 

 

“And even that’s not the whole story. I never found out what was on the chip, or why he gave me the jacket if it was so important. All I ever proved was that he had no real obligation to me and if I was a hindrance, he’d leave me behind. Maybe that changed over time, but right then it was the truth.” Heero lifts his glass and knocks back the swallow left. 

 

Duo’s is forgotten on the bar. “Just so you remember, I don’t like people trying to mess with my head.” 

 

“I know,” Heero says. “That’s not my intention.” 

 

“Then what is?” Duo bites. “When the fuck did you become so philosophical? Why are you digging at me? ” 

 

“Because I worry about you. You never tell the whole story.” 

 

“Nothing to worry about,” Duo says at once, too fast, too lightly. He swallows back the lump in his throat and the whiskey in his glass, thumping the tumbler back on the bar when it’s empty. Tension crawls about between them but not even Duo has a ready joke to make it go away. 

 

He’s grinding his teeth, unwilling to get up and walk away, for god knows what reason. Sure as hell wouldn’t usually stick around after a jab like that.

 

“We talk,” says Heero softly into his anger. “When I’m not on security detail and she’s not a public figure. That’s what we do.” 

 

Still sore, Duo snaps, “And she ‘gets it’?” 

 

Heero isn’t offended. “Sometimes,” he says, simply. “When I explain it. I don’t always have the whole story- that’s part of it too. Piecing it together. It helps.” 

 

“I don’t recall asking.” 

 

“I’m telling you anyway. I don’t need to know what happened exactly; you said you got uncomfortable and then you waved it away as a joke. It’s easy to rebrand things that hurt as a set up and a punchline. It eases the tension but it doesn’t make it go away. And maybe it’s not you who needs to get something out loud. Maybe it’s him. Figure it out. Or don’t. Your choice.” Heero zips up his jacket and drops some cash on the bar. “Are you angry?” 

 

“Kind of, yeah,” Duo says, prickling hot and cold. ‘Or don’t.’ As if that’s any kind of choice he can make. 

 

“Ok. When you’re not angry, let’s have a drink again sometime.” 

 

“Better hope you’re so fucking lucky!” 

 

Heero touches his shoulder and squeezes. Just that. A gesture of understanding, and Duo can’t hate him. 

 

“You’re saying this is on me, aren’t you?” 

 

“No, I’m saying…” Heero pauses. “I don’t think Wufei learned how to laugh about any of it. He wouldn’t get why I like my story. He’d only understand why I don’t like that story. The horrible side of it. Maybe you’re just in each other’s blind spots.”

 

“Maybe…” Duo says, chewing his thoughts. 

 

“Don’t drink any more,” Heero tells him with one last squeeze of his shoulder. “I’ll be in security if you need me.” 

 

“Hey,” Duo calls, rounding on the stool. Heero stops in the door. “How did you know I was here?” 

 

Heero looks mildly surprised. He points up. “Security cameras.”

 

Duo nods. Should have guessed sooner. “You saw us going up.” 

 

“Saw him come out your room,” Heero corrects. “Then you. I was concerned.” 

 

Duo fiddles with the end of his braid, all his problems, and then asks, with apology. 

 

“Did he already leave?” 

 

____

____

 

III 

 

Hotel lobbies are weird places to sit in by yourself. They only get weirder if you start out drunk and get sober without sleeping. The night concierge comes over once to ask if Duo needs anything, but otherwise leaves him alone. There are back doors to the hotel, but he has a hunch that Wufei won’t take the coward’s way out, and hopes Heero will tip him off if he’s wrong. 

 

He’s anxious. His leg jiggles constantly until even he’s fucking tired of it. 

 

The place is dead quiet. Moon quiet. 

 

Duo plays with his phone until the battery dies and then just sits, and waits. 

 

The alternative is to go up. Heero told him the number, the lift is right there. He could go up and knock on the door, but he won’t. No way. You don’t go make friends with a snake by prodding it in it’s hole. 

 

So to speak. 

 

Duo puts his head in his hands and groans. 

 

He wishes he’d gone back to his room and changed. He’s still in the goddamn suit, which is now beyond creased and well into rumpled, but sod’s law says if he nips away now, that’s exactly when Wufei will choose to bail, and he’ll miss him. 

 

He hopes Heero can see the colossal fucking effort he’s making here. Literally. There’s a camera in the corner. Just in case Heero’s watching, Duo flashes it his middle finger. The night concierge continues to handle paperwork without comment. She must have seen weirder. 

 

That’s a reassuring thought.  

 

The elevator dings and if the night concierge notices the grown man promptly launch himself behind the ornamental palm, she doesn’t bat an eyelid. What a professional. 

 

It’s him. 

 

It could have been cleaning staff, another guest, anyone, but it’s Wufei. 

 

The suit’s gone. He’s zipped himself up to the chin in a nondescript jacket, sneakers, tracksuit bottoms. It’d be a disguise if it weren’t for the hair scraped back in that old ponytail. Duo flattens himself into the shadows, not even daring to peek beyond that first glimpse. He just listens. 

 

Wufei’s shoes don’t make a sound on the marble. The height of the room and all that carpet both muffles and distorts conversation. There’s a faint click and the sound of computer keys. 

 

He’s checking out. 

 

“Thank you.” That’s the only thing Duo hears distinctly and it’s not even Wufei talking. His voice is too low. The concierge asks him if he needs a taxi and it’s only evident that he answers ‘no’ by her reply. 

 

“Alright then, have a safe onward journey.” 

 

Make or break. Stay in the shadow and let Wufei leave, go back to his room and drown in the shower. It never happened. They were drunk. No need to mention it again. 

 

Fuck those cameras. 

 

Duo moves before he his second thoughts can catch up with him. The door opens with an automatic hush and Wufei, just a couple of feet away, rounds in alarm. 

 

“Don’t you gotta tell Une you’re leaving?” Duo says from the top of the stairs. 

 

“No,” Wufei replies at once, mutinously. 

 

“She’ll be pissed.” 

 

“I don’t care.” 

 

“Yes, you do,” Duo says. “That’s a complete fucking lie. You care. You don’t tell people you care and I-” 

 

“Go back in the hotel, Maxwell.” 

 

“Fuck you!” Duo stomps down the steps onto the gravel. It’s actually almost daylight outside. The angle of the building had disguised the fact, but it’s already morning, dewy, almost nice. Cold wind. Really brings the hangover home to roost. 

 

“What do you want?” 

 

“A- I- Chbuh-!” Duo splutters. He gestures to the world in general; the answer to Wufei’s question expressed the best he knows how. “You’re leaving? Just like that?” 

 

Wufei shifts the weight of his bag on his shoulder, pushing it to ensure that his arms are free. “And?”

 

“Come on!” 

 

“Just leave me alone. I’m not interested.” 

 

“What is your problem?” 

 

The bag goes overboard into the dirt, Wufei advances. Duo remembers this was not supposed to end with with bloodstains on the steps of the gala venue. He dances out of reach, circling, hands up. “You wanna get security out here? That’ll look good, Une’ll be thrilled.”

 

Wufei stops. It takes no small effort, but he stops.  

 

Duo lowers his hands. “Can we talk?” 

 

Wufei turns and roughly picks up his bag again. “I don’t really want to talk,”

 

“Can I at least apologise or something? Or if we’re gonna duke it out, pick a better venue?” 

 

Wufei kicks gravel at him. “Just forget about it.”   

 

“Alright. Fine. Be like that. Don’t say I didn’t fucking try. Just one thing, I gotta know. Was there a plan?” Duo asks, shrugging expansively. “I just can’t figure out what you wanted. Was it sex? Did you just want me to tick that box off for you?” 

 

“No!” Wufei emits a little breath of air like a cough. “I wasn’t expecting that at all! I was-“ he falters, squeezing the strap on his bag. Wringing it in his fists. Duo hopes he’s not imaging it’s his neck. “I was going to ask you if you wanted to meet sometime. With me.” He actually shrugs. “Dinner, maybe.” 

 

Duo goes slow and stupid with surprise. “On a date?” 

 

“No, not even… just dinner. I heard you moved back to Earth. I don’t see very many people.”

 

“Oh. Wow. Ok.” Duo rocks for a moment heel to toe to heel again, floundering. Then he splutters, “Breakfast?” 

 

“What?” 

 

“Can I buy you breakfast instead?” Duo holds his hands up again, trying to appeal to Wufei’s better nature. “Breaking news: Maxwell fucks up again. Area man deserves apology pancakes.”

 

Wufei isn’t sure if he’s being made fun of.  

 

“Come on. Meet me halfway, I’m really trying not to be an asshole here. I’m trying.” Duo rubs at his forehead and grimaces. “Heero already chewed me out for joking about stuff that matters. It’s a backwards day and I’m shit at this, I’m hungover, but I’m trying. Don’t leave here hating me.”  

 

“I don’t hate you,” Wufei says. He finally releases his death grip on his bag. There’s a crunching noise at the corner of the building. The security guard doesn’t come any closer, but he stops there, gun on show. This is really the worst place to be having a drama. 

 

“You can buy me an omelette,” Wufei mutters. 

___

  

Things that are agonising:

 

A milk tooth falling out of the gum in rotting pieces. 

 

A grown man twisting your ear right the way round. 

 

The moment before the second punch lands. 

 

Learning again that nothing lasts. 

 

Sitting in silence in a taxi. 

 

The cafe is one of those edge of town places, sign by the road and a big car park. They left the decision on where to go to the cabbie, and he’s brought them to his local. Clearly neither of them looked too high-class this morning. 

 

But it serves coffee and breakfast, and it’s open at the arse end of morning. It’ll do. Duo orders coffee, Wufei just nods. 

 

“So…” Duo says into the hostility between them. “You wanna start?”

 

Wufei looks like he’d rather slit his own throat, but he grunts. “Did Heero put you up to this?”

 

“That’s not what’s happening,” Duo says, leaning back as the waitress delivers coffee to the table. 

 

“But you talked to him, didn’t you?” Wufei says, and he doesn’t even sound angry, just flat. “I was thinking about that on the way here; you said he lectured you.”

 

“Well, kind of. It’s just Heero, y’know, and it was…” Duo trails off. There’s no describing Wufei’s expression. It’s something like hate after all.

 

“I’m sorry,” Duo says, giving up. “I don’t know what else to say. I got no smart talk for this. I’m just sorry. Come on...don’t.”

 

Wufei remains a brittle distance away. He doesn’t speak. But he doesn’t leave. Duo slumps back in the booth, cradling his mug. It’s shit coffee. They could have been at a hotel buffet. Wufei’s not even touched his yet.

 

“Hey, you really wanted to see me?”  

 

“Trowa suggested it. Remind me to kill him too.” 

 

“Ah,” Duo can’t work that one out. Trowa? “Did he say why?” 

 

“He thinks you’re a mess,” Wufei says. 

 

“Normally I’d argue…” Another long stretch of discomfort. “Could we go back to fighting? Meet round by the dumpsters in five, you can yell, stick a knife in, we’ll call it even?”

 

“Stop. Joking.” 

 

“Then give me something! I want to make good, but I’m not going to waste time begging a brick wall. If you want to hate my guts, alright- do it! But just say that’s the deal and let me go. Don’t be a bitch about it.”   

 

“I won’t be made fun of.” 

 

“I’m not making fun,” Duo says. “Ok? Not once. Don’t even fucking think it.” 

 

Wufei chews on his own tongue, and the food arrives. 

 

“You really think I’d take the piss like that? About that?” Duo adds once the waitress is gone. 

 

“I don’t know you.” 

 

“Gee, thanks. Nice to know you hold me to such high standards.” Duo digs his fork into his omelette, peeved. “Real fucking generous of you. Anyone ever tell you you’re paranoid? Alright, new idea, asshole. Ask me.”

 

Wufei gives him a stoney look that twists as he raises an eyebrow. 

 

“Ask me,” Duo insists. “I don’t lie, you should know that at least. So go ahead. Ask me something. You don’t know me, so here’s a chance to change that.”

 

Wufei subjects the tabletop to a withering look for a moment. Then he asks, “Why didn’t you like the Foreign Secretary’s speech?” 

 

“Relena?” 

 

“No, not the Vice Minister, the Secretary. After Relena.” 

 

“Oh. Oh! That. Right. I wasn’t actually listening…” 

 

“You left right afterwards.” 

 

“Yeah, I know. Um…” Duo squirm, sheepish. “I just needed some air.” 

 

“Air,” Wufei repeats, with all the disparagement it deserves.

 

“I hate these events,” Duo replies, tugging at his shirtfront. “This? All the glitz and glam? It’s not me. I’m a damn fraud just being there and it’s like everyone knows it but they won’t say it to my face. And they’re boring. You agree right? They’re boring as shit.” 

 

“Mm.” Wufei prods at his omelette with the tines of his fork. “I don’t relish them.” 

 

“There, see? We’ve got that in common then.” 

 

“So you got claustrophobic.” 

 

“Kinda,” Duo disagrees. “I got bored.” 

 

Wufei balls up his napkin and reaches for his bag. 

 

“Hey! Where are you going?” 

 

“For someone who doesn’t lie, you’re not very honest.”

 

“Look who’s talking! Don’t know why you’re up on such a high horse; you’re a fucking liar too.” 

 

“Then why are we wasting each other’s time?” 

 

“Ugh! Alright! I was getting there! Honest answer?” Duo says, shoving a foot up on the bench opposite before Wufei can worm free of the booth. “Honest, embarrassing answer? I was thinking about you fucking me.” 

 

That stops him. It stops Wufei so dead that the bag strap slips from his shoulder and lands with a clunk on the table, upsetting the pepper pot. 

 

“I had a whole scenario and everything,” Duo goes on, taking advantage of the captive audience. Now it’s out in the open, it’s better to keep talking than try and take it back. “Y’know, like a fucking harlequin romance meets James Bond. There was a gunman at the ball, we hunted him down. It was hot. And I got a little too worked up to be sitting nice with the proper folks, so I went to the bathroom.”

 

Wufei is still speechless. He sits with his bag in his lap like a shield, like he’s not sure what the hell Duo is anymore. 

 

Duo puts his head in his hands and just laughs. It’s the only thing he can do at this point. His head hurts, the coffee hasn’t kicked in and he’s broken Wufei’s mind. “We did it against a wall…You climbed a drape. I’m insane.”

 

When he lifts his head again, Wufei is still there, albeit not the same colour. 

 

“You blush real easy,” Duo comments, “Didn’t expect that.” 

 

Wufei clears his throat. “I see,” he manages. 

 

“You don’t believe me?” Duo asks. He bites his lip and confides, “I liked the suit. No really,” he persists when Wufei still doesn’t believe him. “Looks good. Come on, I can’t be the only person to ever come knocking, surely?” 

 

Wufei swallows. He shrugs. 

 

“Baloney!” Duo says, astounded. “I refuse.” 

 

“Not really. Nothing that counts.” 

 

“Never? Not one time?” 

 

“One,” Wufei says. “He’s dead.” 

 

“Fucking hell,” Duo says softly. He opens his mouth to ask if Wufei killed him, only for a Heero-shaped klaxon to go off in his brain. Instead he says, “Like a boyfriend? I’m sorry.”

 

“No, nothing like that,” Wufei pushes his bag from his lap. “That was a long time ago.” 

 

“Still. Hell.” 

 

“People tend to keep their distance. I keep my distance,” Wufei amends. “I’m not interested in just ‘ticking the box’ as you put it.” 

 

“You were gonna let me,” Duo points out. “You were going to go through with it.” 

 

“And it didn’t happen,” Wufei concludes. “My omelette is getting cold.” 

 

He carves at the mound of egg with the side of a fork, chopping it into mouthfuls and stirring them around the plate. Duo wordlessly shovels. He’s not going to let food get away from him, regardless of the situation. Wufei stirs slower. 

 

“The last time I kissed anyone,” he says quietly, “They did that with my hair. I thought it was a nice thing to do.” 

 

Duo swallows a lump of egg that goes like a stone all the way down. 

 

“I thoughtlessly assumed you would like that too.” The tone is a little stiff and formal, but the offering is there; a little chink in the armour. 

 

“You weren’t totally wrong,” Duo admits. “It wasn’t that I hate my hair being touched.” 

 

“You pushed me away.” 

 

“Look,” Duo sighs. He rights the pepper pot, brushing the spillage into a pile with his finger as he talks. “A lot of people have a thing about my hair. They wanna touch it, pull it, just look at it, I guess, but that’s only ‘cause it’s a novelty. It’s just ‘oh look how pretty’ or some such shit, and I can deal with that, if that’s what they want. Like being naked, I don’t really care and they don’t really care, it’s just something to look at. So I do it, but…” He pinches at the pepper. 

 

“That’s all I was doing.” 

 

“No, you weren’t. It was different. People who just want to mess with my hair make comments and ask questions. They don’t ask permission.” 

 

“I shouldn’t have asked permission?” Wufei bristles, and then is just pissed off again. “These other people sound like shits.”

 

Duo is surprised at his vehemence. “They’re just casuals…”

 

“They’re shits,” Wufei repeats, stabbing his fork into his omelette. “If that’s how they treat you.” 

 

“What do you know?” Duo bites back, immediately regretting it. Wufei slams his fork down on the table. 

 

“Nothing, it seems! You told me there was a reason for that,” he jabs his finger accusingly at the braid, “You slap my hand away, and now you tell me your one-night stands paw all over it, so how important is it to you? Does the hair mean anything? Do the people mean anything? Or is it just me?”  

 

“Yes, it’s just you! You made it-” 

 

He can’t get a word out. Wufei’s hurt when he shouldn’t be. There’s a dozen ways to say it, they’re all there crowding around the lump in the back of Duo’s throat but he can’t fight any of them out past his teeth. But he has to say something and it can’t be a joke, and he can’t tell a lie. It has to be- 

 

“Real.” 

 

Duo pushes his plate aside and leans his forehead on the ball of his hand. “I wasn’t ready for it to get so real like that.” 

 

Wufei’s shoulders drop and the tension drains from between them. When Duo dares to glance up, the other man is pale. 

 

“Don’t look at me like that.” 

 

Wufei folds his hands on the tabletop and looks at them instead. “I think,” he says slowly, “We don’t understand each other very well.” 

 

“No shit,” Duo agrees. He lifts his face from his hand and tries a wry smile that only goes as far as wrinkling one cheek. “I don’t want to totally fuck things over though. Call a truce?” 

 

“Truce,” Wufei agrees. 

 

“Can I ask one other thing? Otherwise it’s going to be following me around, bugging me.” 

 

Wufei nods. 

 

“That…when we were on the bed and I had you down kind of…” Duo mimes. “It’s killing me. Was that real bad?” 

 

Wufei’s expression opens up, the mask falling away. “No,” he says, faintly. He clears his throat. “No. I told you; I just don’t like it. Someone holding me down like that. It’s annoying.” 

 

He rolls his hand palm up on the table, and adds, with apology, “My first impulse is to break the hold and then break the hand. Training.”

 

“Ah. Yeah. Training,” Duo hesitates before deciding to believe him. On the other hand, it makes him puzzle about other matters. “But the bit against the wall was ok?” 

 

“That was ok,” Wufei agrees, lowering his voice to a mumble. 

 

“‘Cause you stopped that as well.” 

 

“Yes.” Wufei fiddles with the end of the fork. “But, that was ok.”

 

“See, I thought it was ok,” Duo says, puzzling still. “But then it was all ‘where’s that drink?’ and ‘get off’. Mixed messages, Wufei, if I’m honest.” 

 

“The Wall,” Wufei says, paying very close attention to the edge of his napkin. “Was Ok. Just a bit… close.” 

 

Duo’s jaw slackens slightly. “Close. Oh, ‘close’. You got close. I got you close.” The start of a grin spreads across his face. “God, you’re cute when you get all awkward with euphemisms.”

 

“Do you mind?” 

 

“Not at all,” Duo says, recovering his spirits. “I’m fucking delighted.” He leans back, taking a deep breath. “Aw, shit, I’m so happy to know I only made you cream your pants. I was worried I’d re-enacted some kind of dark trauma and put you off sex forever.”  

 

Wufei flushes to his hairline. “Will you keep your voice down?” 

 

“Sorry, sorry!” 

 

“And I didn’t!” Wufei stops and stares at him. “You really worried about something like that?”  

 

“Sure- I couldn’t tell! Life’s shit and you flung me off yelling ‘don’t pin me’. I just assumed the worst.” 

 

“No. Nothing like that.” Wufei rubs at his jaw, “I can see how that must have seemed.” He sits back, shoulders dropping. He regards Duo for a moment, expression softening at last. In the big gray jacket, he looks younger. “What about you?” 

 

Duo smooths a hand down his hair and then pushes it out of sight over his shoulder. “I’ll live.” 

 

“You don’t want ‘real’?” 

 

“Maybe. One day. What’s ‘real’ even mean? I don’t know.” 

 

“Respect,” Wufei offers. “Consideration. Knowing.” 

 

“Ah, yes. There’s the bit I don’t like.”   

 

“So you’ll continue to just… get drunk and notch bedposts. Make jokes.”

 

“Yep. That’s me. Loose morals. It’s ok, you’ve got enough for both of us.”     

 

“Trowa’s bothered about you. It’s not just me. I doubt he’d have manipulated me if he didn’t feel he had to.”

 

“Maybe it’s you,” Duo replies. “Trowa’s a two-faced bastard. Could have been playing your need to white knight everything. Mr. Hero.”

 

“Don’t say that. I’m not.”

 

“I dunno. Lot of noise about you being the Preventer’s big star agent. Big victory over the forces of evil.”

 

“That was Cooke,” Wufei says dully. “I only got us in and carried the body out. He did the technical work.”

 

“Think I heard about someone dying…Didn’t realise that was your case.” 

 

“It was all over the news. I asked them to keep my name out of the media.” Wufei looks wryly at Duo across the congealing plates. “They gave me a medal.”

 

“Fuck off with that. Really? You? I’d have thrown it in their faces.” 

 

Wufei’s mouth curves into a faint smile. “I was tempted,” he says. “But there you have it. I’m no hero.” 

 

“You liked this guy?”

 

Wufei considers. “He was a good man. A professional. He was a good person to work with.”

 

“But you liked him.”

 

Another long thought. “Yes. But I didn’t know him very well.” Not alive. He knows the weight of Cooke’s body, and the temperature of his eyelids when he’d closed them. He knows that Cooke had square, blunt fingernails, and a tattoo of a woman’s name on his abdomen, which wasn’t his wife’s but may have been his mother’s. 

 

Death is its own kind of intimacy.  

 

“He was a civilian during the war, he’d seen all the worst sides of it. He wanted to make sure his kids wouldn’t have to grow up like us, and he gave everything to that end.” 

 

“One hell of a guy.” Duo quietly lifts his mug and knocks it against Wufei’s. They drink to that. 

 

“So, you’re still doing field work?” Duo asks. 

 

Wufei shakes his head. “Not right now. They pulled me off it to help with the high-level considerations of new agency locations. Strategy. I’ll go back to it in due course.” 

 

“Right.”

 

“It’s nothing to do with Cooke,” Wufei adds. “But it’s a change of pace.” 

 

“I can imagine,” Duo says lightly. 

 

The waitress returns and removes the unwanted plates, offers more coffee and leaves when they shake their heads. The silence between them now is still; a pond where the ripples have settled. Duo stretches a leg out and accidentally knocks Wufei’s foot under the table. 

 

“Sorry.” He stifles a yawn. 

 

The cheque arrives like a hint. Duo tosses a muddle of cash down, about enough to cover. Wufei tidies it up and pushes it to the edge of the table for collection. “You’ll head back to the hotel?” 

 

“Left my stuff there,” Duo says. “I’ll, uh… keep this on the down low. Promise.”

 

Wufei nods, though he’s sure if Trowa and Heero put their best efforts to it, they’ll get half the story out of Duo. He appreciates the offer. Outside Duo shoves his hands in his pockets and hovers around the kerbside. The sun is well up now, and the traffic is increasing. Sooner or later a taxi will pass. 

 

“Might be more cars on the corner,” Wufei mutters. “I think I’ll walk down to the metro station.”

 

“Hey, uh…” Duo squints against the bright light. “Good luck, you know. With everything.” 

 

Wufei shifts his bag to his other shoulder, and gives a nod that’s not quite a bow. “And you.” 

 

“Maybe see you around.” 

 

“I imagine Relena will have some other party.” 

 

“Yeah. You got it. I’ll save a slot on my dance card,” Duo says, with half a grin. “Stay cute.” 

 

There’s a pause in which each expects the other to walk away first, and neither does. The zip of Wufei’s jacket must be loose. It’s an inch or so lower than Duo remembers, and Wufei hasn’t touched it. For a joke, he could reach out and tug it back up. Anyone else, he would step in and be cheeky, steal a kiss as a kind of goodbye. 

 

But it can’t be a lie or a joke, and he’s not ready for real. Duo has the awful feeling that once he turns his back, Wufei will vanish back into some other world, out of reach. 

 

They’re staring again and it’s lonely.  

 

Then Wufei moves. He heaves a sigh of capitulation and reaches in his pocket. 

 

“Hand,” he orders. 

 

“What for?” 

 

“Just give me your hand.” Wufei pulls a pen from his jacket and prints a line of digits across the back of Duo’s hand, bold and black across the veins and tendons. 

 

“If you feel like dinner or… making things real. That’s my number.” 

 

Duo reads it twice before lowering his hand, and while he’s doing so, Wufei pockets the pen. Wordlessly Wufei nods and walks away, the sound of passing cars obscuring the sound of his shoes on the pavement. 

 

He rounds the corner and then lowers his head against the road and walks. Down on the train tracks the express rattles past, heading for the city centre. He’ll have to take the stopping train to get anywhere now. 

 

 His phone rings. 

 

“Just checking,” Duo says, “In case, you know.” 

 

Wufei stops, the sun warming the back of his head. “In case I gave you a fake number?” 

 

“Or you could have made a mistake.” 

 

There’s a dandelion growing in the cracks of the pavement, it’s face struggling to open, one half catching the sun and the other still too cold from the shadow of the building. “I know my own phone number, Duo.” 

 

“Yeah… So… I was wondering…”

 

Wufei can hear hesitant footsteps behind him, the click of dress shoes, but he waits. Duo stops a few yards away, and when he speaks, it’s two-fold; through the air and through the phone. 

 

“You doing anything for lunch?” 

​

___

___

END

​

​