In retrospect, I really, really dislike parts of this. And who took my double dashes? That's so not cool. I don't like that my double dashes were mysteriously reduced to being single dashes. Srsly, ff-dot-net, I don't need any outside help to make my writing look like ass.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Gundam Wing characters, etc.
Warnings and pairings and notes, oh my: Mild spoilers for Duo's Episode Zero (later on), and possibly Trowa's too, fairly obvious 2+3, eventual 2+3+2. Established 4xD mentioned. And I am attempting to write this from Trowa's POV.
If you're going to skim over most of this author's note (I guess I can't blame you), at least read this part: Hardcore 3x4 lovers beware. If you can't stomach the idea of Trowa and Quatre with people other than Trowa and Quatre, well, please don't read this, then tell me, "OMG i hate u quatre and trowa 4ever u bitch!" I'm good to both characters (not a word about the 4xD :P) even though I am not putting them together.
For the record, I happen to like Dorothy, and quite a bit. So, please don't confuse any particular character's opinion of her with my own. I hope she doesn't seem terribly wimpy and OOC, though she's not an active character in the story. I just can't dedicate a bunch of time to explaining her motivations, or go into too much detail about her current situation etc. in a story that isn't about her.
As always, I try to look around for stories similar to my own before posting, to be sure I'm not stepping on anyone's toes. If you happen to see another fic here that bears a strong resemblance to this (and pre-dates it), feel free to let me know and I'll offer it a plug here. I would never rip anyone off, but hey, great minds think alike. And fellow 2x3/3x2 lovers are indeed great minds. :)
There are more notes at the end of the chapter. Because I'm a note-whore.
For a small-time circus, we sure got around. It took me quite some time to notice it, our sporadic route. I guess it was because I didn't often travel with everyone. I just showed up at various destinations, in between my missions. But there are no more missions and I've been with the troupe everywhere, nearly every day, from the Earth to the colonies, since then...
Quatre and I stayed in touch, messaging back and forth and talking on the phone when we both had the time, but we hadn't actually seen each other in ages. It was during our most recent conversation that I'd made the mistake of telling him I was back in space, in the L2 cluster, and would be there a while.
"L2?" he asked, almost dreamily. A moment later, he rather excitedly informed me, "Duo lives there!"
I mouthed a curse. "Damnit."
"I have to make a trip there myself. Trowa, we should meet up. We should meet up and go see Duo!" Quatre suggested, gung-ho as ever.
"Quatre." I spoke his name harshly, as if I were scolding an unruly pet, rather than addressing a close friend.
It didn't seem to faze him, though. He was a man on a mission, now. "Please, Trowa, let's go and see Duo," he pleaded. "I haven't seen him in so long."
"Nothing is stopping you from seeing Duo," I reminded him. "Certainly not me."
"Of course not. But something is stopping you from seeing him," Quatre pointed out, the amusement evident in his voice. I wondered what the hell he thought that something was.
Yeah, something has kept me from seeing Duo. It's the same thing that's kept me from seeing just about everyone for the past two years: peace.
It's rude, and just plain wrong of me to even think it, but sometimes I can't help but feel like Quatre gets whatever Quatre wants, and if not when he wants, then very shortly thereafter. I had to remind myself he didn't get me. Logic told me I was probably just angry to be there with him, closing in on the scrap yard Duo runs with that Hilde girl.
According to Quatre, the space above the management office has been converted into an apartment, and Duo and Hilde live together as well. I wondered if it was business or pleasure, this living arrangement of theirs. I wondered why I didn't like the idea of it being the latter. Hilde seemed nice enough, the few times I spoke with her. She just didn't seem right for Duo. Then again, who does?
The place was fenced in, but the gates seemed to be open. Quatre and I trudged forward, surrounded by scraps, leftovers, unwanted parts. Pieces from the past, unnecessary now, but what else is there to do but let them pile up around us? Force them to join up, buff them, polish them, pound them, melt them - any means of combining them, really - in hopes of creating something new?
Some things just don't fit together.
It didn't take us long to spot Duo, or for him to spot us. As expected, his hair was still past his waist and in its trademark braid. But it was anybody's guess how he was dressed underneath the faded black coveralls he wore.
We met each other halfway.
"Well well well," Duo marveled, smirking. He put his hands on his hips. "Quatre said you were coming, but I really wasn't expecting to see you, Circus Boy."
My eye wanted to twitch, my mouth to frown, over the nickname, but I remained expressionless. I thought - hoped - after all this time, that Duo would've forgotten he'd ever called me that.
"Duo!" Quatre shouted, practically lunging at him.
"Eh?" Duo asked, feebly, looking a little confused.
Quatre reached out and purposely grabbed both of Duo's arms. He then very seriously informed him, "Duo, you look like a convict."
Duo blinked a couple of times and his jaw dropped, but he didn't do much else to defend himself or his attire. Then, he furrowed his brow and pouted for a moment, before dismissing the event altogether and warmly extending the invitation, "Hey, come on inside. I'll give you guys the tour."
Give us guys the tour...? I found it a little hard to believe that this was Quatre's first time here, but I kept my skepticism in check.
Duo chattered constantly, pointing out things, as we passed through the office. The ceiling was lined with fluorescent lights, at least one of the walls with whiteboard. The office was home to a long, worn-out old table, which a computer sat up top of, with a few mismatched chairs around it. There was an ancient looking black and white TV in the corner. Two filing cabinets stood side by side, near to a couple of bookshelves, lined end to end with binders. I saw a couple of stray clipboards, and a few plants here and there. There was a small intercom on the wall, near a closed door. I assumed this door led to the apartment upstairs.
I pondered what it might look like up above, if this level was any indication. I wondered that about Duo as well, what all there was above his ground floor. Just like I was curious as to what he was wearing underneath those coveralls. Well, maybe not just like that.
I'm not sure why I thought about things like that, but one thing was clear to me: I didn't like that I thought about things like that. I didn't like the way I felt, thinking about Duo. I didn't like that I felt, period, thinking about Duo.
Duo pulled out a key when he reached the door. He jiggled it a little in the lock, turned the knob and pushed the door open. He ascended the narrow staircase like he had countless times before. Only, this time, Quatre and I followed behind him. He stopped on the landing and unlocked yet another door.
There were a lot of locked doors, I noticed. Of course, Duo had the keys to each and every one.
"Sorry if it looks like shit," Duo apologized, flippantly, as he led us into the apartment. It was clear he didn't mean it. "Hilde's been out of town."
I said nothing, betrayed no emotion, just scanned my surroundings as slyly as I could.
The apartment itself was small - bigger than my trailer, obviously, but still small. There was a loveseat directly in front of the TV, with a few pillows on it, and a pastel colored afghan draped over the back. A small coffee table sat off to the side of the couch, rather than in front of it. In front, instead, were two chairs - soft and curvy and low to the ground. Very modern. One black - that one had to be Duo's. The other was a soft brown - Hilde's, I guessed. The television was huge, far too big for such a small space. Around it, a stereo, two big speakers and several video game consoles. In the corner, near the glass doors (a balcony in an apartment above a scrap yard...?) were stacks of movies, games, music and books, some of which I recognized. Books, mostly. But the bulk of it was stuff I'd never heard of. Then again, I'm no expert on popular culture.
"Are you really?" I asked, suddenly, not quite sure why I was doing it.
"Am I really what?" Duo asked, curiously.
Quatre let out a little, "Huh?"
"Are you really sorry?"
"That it looks like shit?" Now Duo understood. He chuckled before I could answer him. "Saw right through me, didn't ya? Well, in case you hadn't noticed, this is the living room. TV, stereo, games, gaming chairs. They're so comfy - black one's mine. Couch, balcony."
So there was a balcony.
Duo turned and headed for the kitchen, if it could be called that. "Kitchen. Bathroom's down the hall. So are the bedrooms. My room's first, Hilde's is at the end. You guys can just put your stuff wherever."
Quatre followed Duo into the kitchen and I trailed behind the both of them. Once in the kitchen, he suddenly, and very enthusiastically declared, "I love it!"
Duo's body language told of pure shock. "You do?"
Quatre nodded, firmly. "I really do." He paused and inhaled deeply. He looked so damn dreamy-eyed. "You really live here." It wasn't a question.
"Affirmative," Duo said, and gave one quick, certain nod.
"You have a lovely home, Duo." Any doubts I had about whether or not Quatre had been here before went out the window with that statement. He hadn't been, and I couldn't help but wonder why.
"Lovely...?" Duo repeated the word, awkwardly, looking more than a bit confused. He shrugged it off, then opened the refrigerator door and peered inside. "Thirsty, fellas? Let's see. We got milk. Maybe." He examined the carton carefully, then looked back. "What's today?"
"The fourteenth," I answered.
"Sweet. We got milk."
"That would be just fine," Quatre said, softly, his manners and good breeding coming through even stronger than before.
"Wait, hang on. What month is it again?"
"June." This time it was Quatre who answered.
"Oh, damn." Duo put the carton back into the fridge. "We don't got milk. Sorry if I got your hopes up."
"Duo! Don't just put that back in there!" Quatre nudged Duo out of the way and took the long-expired milk out of the fridge and held it up to inspect it. "April? This expired in April?"
Just how long had Hilde been out of town...?
Duo glanced my way and very loudly whispered, "Geez, somebody's pretty hardcore about his milk, isn't he?"
"When it's been spoiled for nearly two months, yes!" Quatre shouted. "That's hardly even milk anymore! It's practically cheese now!" he continued, prepared to dispose of the carton and its rancid contents.
"Then what are you doing, throwing it away? Waste not, want not."
"Want not. You can say that again," Quatre muttered.
"You're the one who said you loved it here," Duo reminded him, with a sort of casual defiance.
"And I do! Just promise me something." Now Quatre sounded like himself.
"I'm listening," Duo agreed, albeit hesitantly.
"Promise me you won't drink that milk."
"Done."
"Promise me something else."
"Yeah...?"
"Promise me you won't eat that milk either."
"Man's gotta eat." Duo shrugged.
"There must be something in there to eat." Quatre moved in to take a closer look.
"Are you sure you want to see what else is in there?" I decided to involve myself in the conversation once more. "Are you sure you want to open that can of worms?"
"Hey!" Duo snapped, and it was enough to evoke a reaction from both Quatre and me. "I don't have worms in there... anymore... I don't think."
It was just me and Duo there in the apartment. Quatre, practically in a frenzy over Duo's dire food situation, had gone off grocery shopping, and wouldn't hear of either of us going with him. He left his luggage on the floor, and his laptop on the table, taking only his phone with him. I never actually saw the thing, just the wireless headset he wore, and remembered him taking a couple of calls on the way to Duo's.
He was a big, important businessman now. Things had changed for Quatre when he turned eighteen; things, in the form of his sisters dumping a lot more responsibility on him. He isn't a Gundam pilot anymore, and he isn't a kid anymore. He's his father's son, and the heir to Winner Enterprises Inc.
He's the CEO of WEI, Duo's in charge of this place, and I... I ride lions, wear clown pants, and stand really still while my sister throws knives at me.
"I don't really look like a convict, do I?" Duo asked, suddenly, with a slight pout.
I pursed my lips just a bit. "That, or a bank robber from an old silent movie. You'd only be a convict if you were caught."
Duo put a hand to his chest and pretended to be deeply hurt, then tipped his head back and laughed.
"Caught and, well, convicted," I added, needlessly.
"Bank robber it is, then. Except, I'd need a mask," Duo concluded, seriously enough. "Gotta be incognito. Inconspicuous."
As inconspicuous as a masked man with a three foot long braid can be, I thought, but said nothing more than, "Of course."
"I'd need loot, too."
"A white sack with a dollar sign on it?" I guessed.
Duo nodded, enthusiastically, then gave me a rather ambitious high-five. "See, I knew I liked you for a reason!" he exclaimed. "Something other than the fact that you're ridiculously good looking, that is."
I sort of huffed. Both the hand-slap and his words were like needles. But while the mild pain in my palm faded to a tingle, the sting of Duo's supposed compliment turned to ache, settling deep inside of me. "Stop," I said, seriously.
Duo let out a confused little, "Hmm?" He cocked his head to the side and asked, "You alright?"
"Where the hell is Quatre?" I muttered. It didn't take me long to regret opening my mouth. "What's taking him so long?"
Duo shrugged and stood up. He turned away somewhat sharply, and headed down the hallway. He disappeared into his room. I took it to mean I'd made him mad. He had never been one to hold grudges, or let my complete lack of tact get to him. But things were different now. Part of me wanted to deny that, another, to embrace it. One thing had stayed the same, that was for sure. It was a trademark of our relationship, almost. One step forward, two steps back. That was our dance, Duo's and mine.
He was back in the living room soon enough, and he'd ditched the coveralls. He had on long, baggy cargo shorts and a shirt that read: WARNING: The person wearing this shirt has been known to make a pass at almost anyone. If I don't hit on you, there can only be one explanation: YOU UGLY.
What can I say? It was fitting, and it beat the old days, where Duo went about his business dressed like some vigilante priest.
Once over the hurdle that was his attire, I noticed that Duo was holding a black scarf, an off-white drawstring bag, a wide-tip, permanent black marker, and a pair of scissors. He sat down and spread everything out on the floor in front of him. He then took the scissors in one hand, the scarf in his other, and began to cut...
"Eye holes?" I asked, successfully fighting off any potential chuckles. The guy was unbelievable.
He grinned - a real Cheshire Cat kind of grin - and nodded, somewhat manically. The smile faded, almost instantly, though, as Duo very sincerely said, "Sorry if I, you know. And right after you just got here, too. Wasn't tryin' to piss you off or anything. I kinda just... do, don't I?"
I couldn't say anything to reassure him, much as I wanted to. I couldn't even shake my head no. I looked down, and I could feel my hair slide down over my eye. I swear, nothing this side of shaving my whole head is going to change that.
What did it matter anyway? My mask was already in place. My mask never really came off. For a while I thought it might have, but I was wrong. For a while I thought it might've been broken altogether, but it hadn't been. It had hardly been cracked.
Duo had finished his mask, it would seem, and was tightening the knot in the back, when I lifted my head to face him. His eyes were so incredibly bright against the smooth, shimmering black fabric.
Silk? What the hell was he doing with a silk scarf...?
I remained silent, breaking eye contact almost as soon as Duo had established it. I reached for the marker and the bag. I could feel him watching me as I uncapped the pen. One thick, gigantic dollar sign later, I recapped it and casually tossed the bag Duo's way.
His eyes twinkled, dangerously, as he clutched his newly made loot sack.
I deadpanned, "You look like a lunatic."
He feigned offense and gripped the bag tighter. After a moment he asked, "Good, yeah?"
I couldn't help but smile over the silliness of it all. "All you need now is a blonde to tie to a set of railroad tracks," I agreed, rolling my eyes.
The buzzer sounded, interrupting anything Duo might've had to say to that. He stood up and sort of swaggered over to the intercom. "Yo."
"Duo?" Of course, it was Quatre.
How. Absolutely. Perfect.
Finger poised and ready to press the button and buzz him in, Duo remarked, "If that ain't divine intervention, I don't know what is."
Divine intervention? Quatre intervention is more like it.
Poor Quatre's suggestion in regards to what we'd do for dinner was vetoed, almost immediately. He'd wanted to go somewhere nice - money was no object, obviously - since it was the first time the three of us had been together in nearly two years.
Duo had insisted, "Oh, hell no. You ain't gettin' me into some fancy-ass joint and makin' me eat, hell, I don't know, sautéed eyeballs, 'in a white wine sauce.' Not. Gonna. Happen. Period. I don't know what you're thinkin', Quatre, but I worry about you sometimes." Duo had this habit of leaving the 'g' off the end of a word when he was agitated. I'd forgotten about it, being away from him for so long.
Quatre looked to me for support. I said, simply, "Sorry, Quatre. I had sautéed eyeballs for breakfast."
Duo clapped me on the shoulder. For the moment, we were allies. Quatre's jaw dropped and he actually looked shocked. This wasn't just him pretending to still be that naive, wide-eyed fifteen year old we first met three years ago. He didn't bother with that around us. He hadn't for quite a while.
"So this is what happens when I get you two together?" he asked, regretfully. Now this was a put-on. Totally and completely.
"Among other things," Duo replied, with a wink.
"Dinner?" I asked, trying to change the subject, but without anyone realizing that was what I was trying to do. A lost cause, I know.
Duo took command, and swept us off to some little hole-in-the-wall restaurant. A small, poorly lit, relatively tastelessly decorated place that served quite possibly the best Italian I've ever had.
After dinner, Duo ushered us off to some pool hall, where Quatre, I'm almost ashamed to admit, kicked our asses. I should've guessed. It's a rich man's sport, isn't it? But still, I had no idea Quatre had a talent for the game. I felt a pang of guilt over not knowing that about him.
The guilt was gone quickly enough, though, as he won, yet again.
Duo scowled, and accused, "Quatre's tryin' to hustle me."
"I am not!"
"You've won every game," Duo pointed out.
"I have," Quatre admitted. He leaned on his cue a little. "But if I were trying to hustle you, wouldn't I have let you win a few first?"
"He's got a point," I agreed.
Quatre reached up and touched his ear. I'd almost forgotten he still had his headset on. He excused himself to take the call, leaving me and Duo alone. Again. This was the second time in one day. I worried this might become a habit.
"Sneaky little - wouldn't I let you win a few first? Thinks he's so clever," Duo was grumbling, as he walked away from the pool table and sat down. "I'm onto him."
I sat down across from him and rested my chin in my hand. After a few moments of silence, something came over me and I asked, "How did you know about this place?"
Duo shrugged. "Used to come here after school. Some of my classmates dragged me here."
I took a moment to wrap my mind around the idea of anyone dragging Duo anywhere.
He added, "Used to walk by a lot, but I never came inside."
"School?"
Duo nodded. "Yeah, thought I'd try it out for real, not just as a cover. Took a few classes. Takin' some more next fall, too. Nothing serious. Can't say I've really learned anything. Did put a few more gray hairs on my professors' heads, though."
"That alone makes it worthwhile, right?" I guessed.
Duo let out a bark of laughter. He then chose to impersonate one of his teachers. "'Meeshta Maxwell. We do not shleep in class. Meeshta Maxwell, we do not make papuh ech-planes out of our exam papuhs.' I tell ya, some people just expect too much."
I shook my head.
I felt a hand on my shoulder. Quatre had come back. "Did I miss anything?"
I answered with a quick, "No."
Duo crossed his arms, turned his nose up, and insisted, "I don't associate with hustlers."
"Oh, for crying out loud, Duo, I didn't cheat you."
We left the pool hall shortly after that. We decided to see a late movie, when Duo noticed one of his favorites, The Empire Strikes Back, was showing. He was appalled to hear that neither Quatre or I had seen it before. If we hadn't already agreed to go, I imagine that would've sealed our fate.
Quatre only got up and left once, to take another call, most likely. I suppose he could've gone to the bathroom. But I knew he hadn't turned his phone off. He'd only double-checked to make sure it was set to vibrate, prompting a comment from Duo, in the process.
"You know what they say about guys who keep their phone on vibrate?"
"That they don't want to interrupt the movie...?"
"Yeah, you go on thinkin' that, buddy."
I contemplated switching rows.
Duo, Quatre and I headed back to the apartment after the movie, all tired, but none of us really wanting to admit it. Duo, once he was sure we were all locked in, bid us goodnight with a wave and disappeared into his bedroom. It didn't take either me or Quatre long to settle in, he on the couch, me on the floor.
The lights hadn't even been off five minutes before Quatre decided to ask, "Are you having fun, Trowa?"
"Fun?" I echoed.
"Yeah. Fun. You act like you don't know what I'm talking about."
"Fun? What is this fun you speak of?" I asked, robotically. I probably sounded like I always do.
Quatre laughed. I could tell he was trying to be quiet about it. "Oh, shut up, Trowa."
I obliged.
A moment later, Quatre decided, independently of me, "You're having fun."
"I am?"
I could hear Quatre's breathing. I could tell when he exhaled, and just how slowly he'd done it. "You are." Another breath, and then, "It's nice to be together again, isn't it?"
"You say it like it's the last time," I noted, some sort of self-righteousness manifesting itself inside of me.
"Things change, Trowa. Who knows. It could be."
A/N: Oh, damn. Why would Quatre say something like that? Guess you'll just have to read the next chapter and see. Unless this sucked so much ass you don't want to read past this point. Anyway, I said there'd be more notes.
Locations and canon, etc: If my memory serves me right, the word "trailer" pops up in regards to the scrap yard Duo is at during the series, so yes, I know I'm describing his place now quite a bit differently. I hope no one is violently opposed to that. I've got Duo back in the L2 cluster, as you've well read. I don't know where this junk yard he operates actually is, so I chose L2 because of its association with the character and I have yet to find anything to either confirm or disprove this.
Trowa thinks of Catherine as a sister, which would be why he sometimes refers to her as such. I'm not going into the details of his Episode Zero in this fic, though.
Personality: Yes, Duo is the funny one, but I don't think he's stupid, and I am aware of what he has been through. I respect the character greatly; he's one of my favorites. So please don't take my lighthearted Duo moments as lack of respect for him, or a question of his intelligence. People can be both funny and smart. He'll be smart(er) later on.
Timeline: This is set one-and-a-half to two years after Endless Waltz. So the guys are all eighteen.
Misc: Totally broke through the fourth wall by mentioning Star Wars. I say it exists in Gundam world. :) And I have Duo's shirt.