Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.
Pairings: 1x2, 1+4 (brotp, really)
Warnings: yaoi, folks. M/M sexual relations occur. Also, some OOC-ness, as this is set in an Alternate Universe.
Heero Yuy was, without a doubt, having the worst day in the history of the universe. It had begun with him stumbling out of bed fifteen minutes later than usual and a mad dash to the bus stop only to find that the bus had arrived on time, for once, effectively making him late to work. Then, he'd dealt with eight hours of almost non-stop asinine phone calls concerning various computer issues, not to mention the awkward hour he'd spent being borderline sexually harassed by his boss. And now, he was walking home (he'd missed the bus again and he refused to wait for the next one) in the middle of a downpour. If he believed in karma—he usually left that type of superstitiousness to his flighty roommate—he'd say he must have done something seriously fucked up to deserve such a fate.
Heero sighed heavily as he shoved his hands in his pockets, fishing for his apartment keys. Of course with his luck, they weren't there, so he settled for banging his forehead against his front door, over and over again, in defeat. He lost track of how long he stood there, rhythmically connecting his forehead with the wooden door and cursing the universe, but the next thing he knew, he was tumbling face first into his apartment.
"Heero, are you okay?"
Heero turned, resting on his back to look up at Quatre, eyes bright and smile wide, as usual. He wasn't proud of the way he wanted to punch the blonde in the face.
"Yes, I'm fine."
Quatre's pursed his lips and crouched down, forearms resting on his knees. "Why were you knocking on the door with your head?"
Heero's blue eyes fluttered closed as a pounding headache made itself known. "Because life is utterly meaningless."
"Heero!" Quatre scolded, "Don't be silly. I'm gonna put on a pot of tea and you're going to get out of the doorway and go change and then you're going to tell me all about your day."
Quatre smiled as he rubbed Heero's damp hair affectionately and Heero felt all of his frustration draining out of him. Sometimes, he swore his best friend had some sort of magical powers because there was no one in the world who could soothe away his worries. It had always been this way with them. Heero's father had been a family friend of the Winner family and Heero had spent most of his summers in various mansions around the world. Quatre had been his closest (honestly—only) friend for as long as Heero could remember. Their childhood was filled with small adventures, broken bones, and scraped knees and Heero wouldn't have it any other way. Even though it was usually Quatre's ridiculous ideas that got them into trouble, Heero didn't hold a grudge. Besides, he usually bailed them out of said trouble in the end.
Heero stood up, making a pathetic groaning noise and went into his bedroom. "Turn that damn chanting off, please."
Quatre clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Heero, it's Tibetan monks throat-singing and it's supposed to relax you."
"For god's sake, Quatre, just turn it off," Heero shouted into the living room, his hands busy searching through the chest's drawers for his favorite pair of sweatpants. He sighed in relief when the demonic, guttural noises coming from their living room were replaced by silence. He had hoped that Quatre's yoga and meditation phase would pass, just as his horse-riding phase, and his astrology phase, and the strange obsession he'd had with an awful band called Zero System. But it had lasted several years, culminating in Quatre opening up his own yoga studio.
He loved his friend to death, but the two were like night and day. Quatre was all bright sunshine and wispy clouds and Heero was all, well, utter, crushing darkness. He sometimes envied his friend's cheerful attitude, though he'd never admit it out loud.
"You're wearing sweatpants on your date?" Quatre asked, poking his head in Heero's bedroom sans permission.
"Jesus Christ, you know I hate when you do that," Heero barked, before realization dawned, "oh, fucking shit."
"You forgot didn't you," Quatre said, sagely.
"I can't go like this," Heero decided, "it's pouring rain and I'm exhausted."
"You could be missing out on meeting the love of your life, you know," Quatre teased, leaving the bedroom upon hearing the whistle of the tea kettle.
"It was a dumb idea anyway," Heero grumbled, following Quatre, "letting you set me up on a blind date is just asking for trouble. Besides, knowing you, it's probably some granola-munching hippie."
Quatre spun around, eyes narrowing dangerously.
"No offense," Heero offered weakly.
Quatre poured the steaming liquid into two mugs, handing one to Heero before adding insane amounts of honey to his own cup. "First off," he began, "we agreed to set each other up on blind dates after you so helpfully pointed out that we'd been suffering from quite a dry spell. Second, I know your tastes, Heero, and I studied my students very carefully before selecting the perfect match."
Heero snorted. "The very fact that they were in your yoga class in tells me I'm not interested."
"This coming from the guy who is so wound up he snapped at a toddler the other day."
"He was asking for it."
"Was our front door asking for it, too?" Quatre replied easily.
Heero let out a long-suffering sigh. "Alright, so maybe I'm wound up. But Treize won't stop ogling my ass at work and cute coffee shop manager guy still glares at me like I'm the devil and I just need..."
"To get laid?" Quatre supplied.
"I don't know," Heero slumped down on their living room couch, feeling hopeless.
"So the truth comes out. This is about coffee shop guy." Quatre sat cross-legged on the ground in front of Heero, sipping from his mug, looking serene and wise—everything Heero wasn't.
"He's just so gorgeous," Heero moaned, "every time I try to talk to him, I trip all over my words and sound like an idiot. And the more he glares, the more I can't stop thinking about him."
"Maybe if your first meeting hadn't been quite so intense..." Quatre reminded Heero.
It was true, that Heero had been too harsh and frankly, outright rude, to the dark-haired barista that had flubbed his simple of order of black coffee, no sugar. He'd had another rough morning at work and his lunch—the only time Heero had to sit in peace and enjoy himself—had been very nearly ruined by taking a sip of disgustingly sweet coffee. He'd marched up to the counter, bypassing the line of customers and yelled at the girl so much she'd almost burst into tears. In hindsight, it wasn't his proudest moment.
And then, a beautiful man had emerged from the back room of the store, outrageously long braid trailing behind him as he rushed to defend his employee.
"What's your problem, buddy?" the man's commanding tone shocked Heero into submission. Or maybe it was those gorgeous violet eyes.
"I—uh," Heero stammered, struggling to regain his composure as his entire world turned upside down, "Can I speak to the manager?"
"You're talkin' to him, pal," the man replied icily. His rough tone shouldn't have made Heero's dick twitch with interest.
"My order was...um..." Heero was certain he'd never sounded more like a complete ass.
"Listen, I don't care what happened, you don't have the right to be rude to my employees." The barista beside the man sniffled pitifully and Heero felt awful.
"I'm sorry," Heero said suddenly, before spinning on his heels and practically running out of the shop.
It was, without a doubt, the most embarrassing moment in his life, and that included the time he was ten years old and Rashid walked in on him and Quatre 'practicing kissing'.
Despite his mortification, Heero had returned every lunch break for a month now, never repeating an incident like before (though the same barista did mess up his order again—twice), and staring longingly at the store manager, who usually frowned when he caught his gaze.
"You should just try talking to him again," Quatre's voice brought Heero back to the present.
"No, I'm lucky he still lets me in to the shop at all," Heero muttered.
"So you're just gonna pine for this man, whose name you don't even know, for the rest of your life?"
"That's the plan."
Quatre shook his head. "Well, in the meantime you should go on this date. Who knows? Maybe he's hotter than coffee shop guy."
Heero moaned pathetically, "You haven't seen this guy."
"Heero, I'm putting my foot down," Quatre said, standing up swiftly. "You are a handsome, intelligent, somewhat grumpy but generally lovable young man and you need to get out there and get yourself laid before you spontaneously combust."
Heero's eyebrows almost reached his hairline. "I mean it, Heero," Quatre continued, his tone softening, "You have to at least try. I don't want you to be miserable forever."
Heero was powerless to resist Quatre, blinking his big, puppy dog eyes, or the concerned best friend routine. "Fine," he grumbled petulantly.
Half an hour later, he was showered, dressed in his most stylish ensemble (tight black jeans and a thin, forest green sweater) and being pushed through the door by Quatre.
"You won't regret it!" Quatre called out after him.
Heero doubted that very much, but he continued walking out of his apartment building, feeling a dread akin to attending a funeral, instead of the nervous excitement of a first date.
The restaurant was one of those quirky, hole-in-the-wall vegan joints Quatre loved and Heero hated and he should have left when saw that it was named The Tofu Palace but he didn't. He let himself be led to an empty table for two. He began agonizing as soon as he was seated. Where was this guy? He'd been almost fifteen minutes late, he expected the table to be filled. Maybe he was one of those 'time is relative therefore I'm never truly late' kinda guys. Or maybe Heero was being stood up. He didn't know which option terrified him more and he was two seconds from dialing Quatre and berating him for his useless meddling when a familiar voice grabbed his attention.
"You've got to be shitting me."
Heero looked up, his stomach sinking and his pulse quickening, at the same beautiful man who ran his favorite coffee shop. The man of his dreams.
"This is unbelievable," the man said, sitting across from Heero despite the venom in his voice, "you're Heero? Quatre's friend?"
Heero nodded dumbly, unable to form words because the man across from him was fucking breath-taking. His eyes were bright and furious, he wore a tight black shirt that hugged his slender body just right and his braid hung over his shoulder, like a snake. Lead me not into temptation, indeed. This man was forbidden fruit and Heero was sure he'd spend the rest of his lonely life imagining what it would feel like to taste those lips.
"I can't believe he's friends with such a dick," the man muttered.
"Since we were little," Heero's tongue finally worked again, "I'm Heero Yuy, by the way."
"I know that," the man scoffed, "I'm Duo. Duo Maxwell."
Heero could finally put a name to the face he'd been fantasizing about for weeks and it shouldn't have made him as giddy as it did. Duo Maxwell. What a perfect name.
"I gotta say, Quatre didn't mention anything about his friend's anger problem. He made you seem like a goddamn saint."
"He sees me through rose-colored glasses. He kinda sees everything like that."
"No kidding," Duo's captivating eyes met Heero's. "The only reason I'm still here is because you're paying for this dinner and Quat said he'd give me a free meditation lesson if I agreed to this."
Heero was momentarily stunned by the apparent closeness between Quatre and Duo (who the hell called him Quat, anyway?) and the fact that the former had to coerce someone into going on a date with him. Was he that horrible?
"You don't have to stay. I can tell him you did, though, if you'd like." Heero guessed he must have sounded sincere enough because Duo seemed to take pity on him.
"It's fine, I'm starving."
They settled into silence as they glanced over the menu. Heero felt overwhelmed by all the options and he looked up to find Duo studying the menu dubiously, as if he thought the thing was going to jump up and bite him.
"I don't know what any of this is," Heero ventured.
Duo snorted. "Me neither. It looks like a lot of bullshit."
Heero let out a short laugh and Duo leaned back in his chair, eyeing him carefully. "So what's your deal? What's with the stick up you ass?"
Heero laughed again, surprising himself. "I have a hard time with...people. It's always been difficult for me to make connections and to gauge what is socially acceptable. Also, I am having a shitty life, so there's also that."
Duo's sharp laugh was music to his ears. "What's so shitty about it?"
"I hate my job, I hate my boss. I've been in a general state of unhappiness since I was about fifteen."
"Join the club, pal. You're not exactly special. No one likes their job, no one likes their boss, no one is happy. Doesn't give you an excuse to be a jerk." Despite the harshness of the words, Duo's tone was soft, almost joking and Heero relaxed a bit.
"You make it sound so simple."
"It is simple, man," Duo said, "there is one cardinal rule to life and that is don't be a dick."
"I'll try to remember that."
Duo grinned. "Was that a joke?"
Heero returned the smile. "Maybe."
Duo's loud laughter filled the space around them again. "Stick with me, 'Ro. I'll make a human out of you yet."
Something like butterflies or giant flying robots kicked up in Heero's stomach at Duo's words. "How long have you lived in the city?" he managed to ask.
"Not long. A few months. Started working at the coffee shop about a month ago."
"You became manager rather fast."
"I've got the experience," Duo replied.
"How long have you been a student of Quatre?" Heero asked, desperate to keep Duo talking.
Duo chuckled. "You make it sound so formal. I've been taking yoga classes for a few weeks."
"Any particular reason?" Heero tried his best not to sound judgmental.
"It's supposed to help with my...'tough guy attitude'," Duo answered, his fingers air-quoting around the words in a way that usually annoyed Heero but was endearing coming from the braided man.
"I like your attitude." The words had left Heero's mouth before he could stop himself.
Duo shrugged. "It's also made me incredibly flexible."
Had Heero's overactive imagination hallucinated the saucy wink that accompanied the statement? It didn't seem to matter to Heero's dick, which hardened almost painfully against his denim.
Duo cleared his throat before speaking, "So what's your dream job?"
Heero frowned at the sudden change of topic and Duo picked up on his confusion. "You said you hate your job, right? So what is your idea of the perfect job?"
Heero felt the weight of Duo's intense gaze as he searched for his answer. "When I was a little boy, I always wanted to be a pilot."
"No fucking shit!" Duo exclaimed, his hands smacking sharply against the table, making the silverware rattle. "Me too! I even tried to get into flight school when I graduated high school."
"Well, you got much farther than I did. What happened?"
Duo's face fell, and Heero worried that he'd overreached and offended the man. "They decided I was too reckless and dangerous. Didn't pass the psychiatric exam to get in."
Hearing that Duo was apparently not mentally stable enough to be a pilot should have set off all sorts of alarms in Heero's head. Instead, it made him feel unbearably fond of him. He was honest and sincere, blindingly perfect even in his flaws. Heero was so gone on the guy, it was embarrassing.
In an uncharacteristic show of confidence, Heero reached across the table and grabbed Duo's hand. The braided man looked up sharply, surprise evident on his face, but he allowed the touch.
"Do you want to go eat somewhere else?" Heero asked. "I know a place that makes the best cheesesteak sandwiches near here."
Duo smiled and Heero's heart jackhammered against his chest. "That sounds great."
They never made it to the cheesesteak place. Heero found the courage to confess to Duo that he'd had the biggest crush on him since they met and Duo's easy reply of "no shit, Sherlock," had stunned him into silence.
"I kinda liked you, too, you know," Duo whispered, stalking closer and closer to him in the darkness of his apartment. "Thought you were goddamn crazy but also incredibly hot."
He pushed Heero up against the wall and crushed their lips together, hands scrambling to divulge Heero of his sweater ('hideous—don't ever wear it again,' he'd informed Heero earlier in the night) and run his hands along the muscled torso beneath.
Heero let Duo's mouth explore his neck, biting at the skin and running his tongue deliciously along the pulse point there. He let out an ungraceful groan when Duo's hands palmed his erection through his jeans and he retaliated by tugging firmly on Duo's braid. The moan Duo let out, deep and low in his throat, let Heero know he'd found a not-so-secret kink and he filed the information away in his mind for later use.
Heero's hands travelled Duo's body, touching every inch of heated skin he could get his hands on and loving the way the braided man shivered under his fingers. Their mouths found their way back to each other, tongues wrestling for dominance and lips pressing close together. Somehow, the rest of their clothes disappeared without their lips parting for more than a second. When they were both finally naked, Duo pulled back. His eyes raked over Heero's body and he let out a long whistle.
"Goddamn," Duo said, a feral smirk on his lips.
Heero grabbed at him, reversing their positions and lifting the braided man up by his thighs. Duo wrapped his long legs around Heero's waist and Heero let out a growl before kissing him again. Duo's hips moved instinctively, rubbing their hardened cocks together splendidly, letting Heero know that despite being held up against the wall, he was still in control. And Heero was more than okay with that.
"Bedroom?" Heero breathed out against Duo's lips. Duo pointed towards a opened doorway.
They never made it to the bedroom, either. They tumbled rather unceremoniously on the nearest couch, Duo landing hard enough on top of Heero that he knew he'd be bruised in the morning. Not that he cared. Being bruised by Duo seemed like the sweetest punishment for their first meeting.
"I'm really sorry about yelling at that barista," Heero said suddenly. Duo straddled him, rolling his hips wantonly and Heero really hoped that it was his way of saying he was forgiven.
"Hilde's an awful barista, don't worry about it," Duo panted. "You wouldn't happen to have some lube, would you?"
Heero shook his head, mentally cursing himself for his lack of foresight. Despite his disappointment, his skin burned, his dick ached and he honestly didn't think he had the patience to wait while Duo prepared him. Duo only grinned. "That's okay, I don't think I can last that long anyway."
Heero let out a shaky breath as Duo held his long, fingers near his mouth. He sucked each one in, wishing that it was Duo's cock instead. That would be for next time. God, he hoped there was a next time.
Duo pressed a quick kiss to Heero's forehead before reaching between their sweat-slick bodies and wrapping his wet hand around them both. The broken moan that escaped Heero's lips made Duo chuckled darkly, and he stroked their hardened flesh quickly.
"Duo," Heero panted, as the braided man worked them both with expert hands. Heero's orgasm hit him with the force of a lighting storm, the wave of pleasure unexpectedly cresting, culminating in a tingling sensation that spread throughout his body. Duo's perfect mouth hung open as he drew in a sharp breath and came—hot and sticky—between them.
Their foreheads resting against each other, Heero and Duo breathed as one until Duo's arms gave out and he collapsed on top of Heero, knocking the breath out of him.
Heero thought Duo could have stolen his breath any day of the week. He wrapped his arms around the slim man and made a mental note to thank Quatre later.
Duo leaned up, kissing Heero deeply. "I hope you're not thinking about leaving."
Heero smiled widely, feeling relaxed for the first time in ages. "I wouldn't dream of it."
"Good," Duo responded, peppering Heero's bare chest with kisses. "Because I'm nowhere near done with you yet."
Heero knew proposing marriage after only a few hours together was irrational. Perhaps, he'd wait until tomorrow morning.
With Duo's full lips trailing a wet path down his chest, his shoulders settled snuggly between his legs, Heero was thankful for every shitty day, every disappointment, every seemingly insignificant coincidence that had led him to this very moment. To Duo Maxwell's flexible body and expressive eyes. He suddenly felt that he'd never be unlucky again.