Disclaimer: I in no way own any part of Gundam Wing, and make no financial profit from writing.
Anything but Perfect:
Note: This is a shamelessly-belated birthday fic for Dyna Dee, with very best wishes. Also, many thanks to Kaeru Shisho, who really is the perfect editor.
Chapter 1 / 2:
The first time they met wasn't a meet cute or a cute meet or whatever absurd term his younger employees were bandying about nowadays.
It could have been, maybe.
It certainly had all the right elements; enough to satisfy the most sentimental of romantic novelists; the ones who had written the books his sister had sighed and sobbed over as a teenager. A balmy, moonlit night on a beach in Southern Spain, with the gentle plash of silver-washed waves against the shore. The sweet, honeyed scent of oleanders. There was a light breeze, blowing inland, but with an occasional gust out to sea that carried the sound of a car on the main road, or the staccato snap of castanets, along with the rhythmic slap of the dancers' feet, from the small beachfront restaurant which put on a flamenco performance every Sunday night, for the tourists.
Apart from those sounds, never frequent enough to be intrusive, he could have been alone in the world; a man gazing out to sea. Zechs leaned against the railing, trying not to think about a rare Sunday night off that had been wasted on uninspired food and even less inspiring company.
He was never going to let his sister set him up on a date again.
The evening hadn't even been bad enough to be laughable, in retrospect. Just a couple of hours spent making laboured conversation with a man with whom he'd had not one single thing in common. A man who'd put a lavish squirt of tomato sauce on a dish of penne carbonara. Admittedly, the pasta had been rather dire, but still. There had to be some limits.
They'd probably bored each other, he thought, ruefully honest. But seriously, what had Relena been thinking, setting him up with an accountant who'd spent most of their first course waxing lyrical about a new software programme his company had installed? Who'd actually liked the processed sauce on his prawn cocktail and who'd shamelessly admitted that he thought gourmet cooking was a waste of time and money?
He'd been attractive enough, and clearly interested in Zechs on a physical level, and on another night he might possibly have taken the very-obviously-on-offer sex as a consolation prize. He'd been tired though; as he was taking the night off, he'd been in the kitchen at five that morning, and he just couldn't be bothered.
Which did leave him alone, walking home along the cliffs and watching the sea and the stars at midnight, and thinking that if he had been in a romantic novel, he would have been with someone. Or about to meet the perfect someone.
As it turned out, of course, he was about to, and under all the laws of the universe, the first time he met the perfect someone should have been perfect too.
It wasn't.
The first sign that he wasn't alone any longer was the sound of footsteps approaching. Damn it. He should have realised. The La Luna restaurant usually closed around twelve; there would be people choosing to walk home across the cliff path, or couples setting out on a romantic interlude, fuelled by copious glasses of cheap sangria, and an evening of throbbing guitar music.
Right.
Time to go home himself.
He had a little moment of self-mockery, admitting that he didn't really want to have to witness any such romantic trysts. He was good-looking; successful by any standards; intelligent; charming when he wanted to be. If he was alone on this particular night, he'd chosen it. It wasn't even that late, by Spanish standards. He could take a taxi into Marbella, where most of the clubs and bars would only be starting to get busy.
If he decided to walk home instead, and seek solace with his cat and a book and a glass of exceptionally good brandy – well, maybe he was getting older. Or more sensible. Or entirely corrupted by his smugly-married sister and his two mutually-adoring closest friends, all of whom were snuggled in little cocoons of domestic bliss.
He pushed off from the railing; oh, definitely time to go home if he was starting to get maudlin. He'd drunk far too much wine over dinner; anything to try to give the evening a shine. It hadn't worked, but he was definitely starting to feel the effects of over-indulgence now. Idiot, tarnishing his palate with a cheap house red, that had come in a bottle undistinguished by any mention of vintage, vineyard or variety. He'd drunk the first couple of glasses because his date had ordered the bottle, being a typical penny-pinching accountant.
Afterwards, he hadn't cared much. He'd drunk because there'd been an alcohol content.
Idiot, for several reasons, he acknowledged dryly. The footsteps he'd heard approaching had coalesced into two figures, standing very close, right in the middle of the narrow path. There was, really, no possible way for this night to get any worse.
Except there was. Always. He'd retreated a few steps himself, thinking of options. He could just barge past with a muttered apology; he could take the other way, which would add a good half-hour on to his walk home. Neither was appealing. And while he stood there, just around the corner and out of sight, the argument began. He wasn't quite close enough to hear exactly what was being said, but close enough to hear the louder parts, which were ugly and obscene. More than close enough to get the general gist.
He did think about intervening but the man who seemed to be getting most of the abuse – cock tease and whore and other choice epithets – seemed to be perfectly able to hold his own, in an accent Zechs couldn't quite identify, and at some volume. More than able to hold his own, once he got into his stride. He actually winced a couple of times. There was a bit more shouting, and then the sound of one pair of feet storming off.
Fine. Now, at least, he could go home. The other man, the one who hadn't stalked off, was sitting on a little bench by the side of the path.
'Are you all right?' Zechs couldn't help asking because it was pretty much his default setting, and he'd witnessed a few blazing rows in the restaurant (rarely quite such a conflagration) but sometimes there was one person left sobbing into his or her lobster bisque, who needed to be mopped up and given brandy and have a car ordered.
'Fuck off,' the man muttered, jabbing his fingers at his phone.
The first words they ever spoke to each other. In retrospect, during their worst arguments, he sometimes wondered if that had been some sort of omen. He'd never, for one second, regretted that he hadn't obeyed.
Instead, he walked just a few steps past, hesitating, not really wanting to leave someone alone on a cliff in near-darkness, after he'd had a row like that and had most probably been drinking himself. He was still close enough to hear the man shouting into his phone; English and then a few broken phrases of truly execrable Spanish. Or what was meant to be Spanish, possibly
'Oh, fuck,' he muttered finally, this time aimed at the phone and whoever he'd been speaking to, and who'd presumably hung up. 'Fucking fuck.'
'Can I help?' Zechs asked, a little cool, since he'd been rebuffed before, and didn't particularly want a stream of abuse sent in his direction.
'I am trying to call a damn cab. Note operative word; trying. No one understands English.' He'd started off confrontational but at the end it trailed off, forlorn and hopeless.
'I can do it, if you like,' he held out his hand. 'I'm not going to steal your phone,' he added, when the man hesitated.
'You'd better bloody not.' He switched it on, though and handed it over.
'Where do you want to go?' When the man hesitated, clearly not wanting to give an address, Zechs elaborated. 'The drivers here won't pick you up unless they know where you're going, and a name.'
'Calahonda,' he said briefly, and then, even more grudgingly. 'It's an apartment complex called Los Grenados.'
'I know it, yes.' It was a bit of a surprise, to be honest. He did know the apartments; he had customers who lived there, and they were mostly owned by very affluent, retired couples; not the sort of a place a young man would necessarily choose to live. 'And the name?'
Another hesitation, and an indignant question in Spanish on the other end of the line, wanting to know if anyone was still there. 'Duo Maxwell.'
'Thank you,' Zechs said, ridiculously and exaggeratedly formal, and then spoke into the phone, giving Duo's details. 'I'm sorry,' he said a minute later, returning the phone. 'It'll be at least an hour before anyone can get to you.'
'You're shitting me. Seriously?'
'It's a very bad time,' he elaborated. 'Most of the bars and restaurants around here close up around half eleven or twelve. And, to be honest, most drivers won't want to drive down a dirt track to pick up someone they don't know.'
'Great. Just fucking great. Exactly what I needed to make this the worst fucking night ever.'
'It's not far, you know,' Zechs suggested. 'You could walk it in less than half an hour if you go along the road. Even less if you take the boardwalk, although it's maybe a bit dark.'
'If I wanted to walk, I wouldn't be trying to call a freaking taxi, would I?'
It was too dark to see his expression – to see anything about him really, beyond a slight figure with hunched shoulders, curled in on himself on the bench – but the snap was there in his voice.
Great, really. He sat down on the other end of the bench, trying to think of a way to get Duo home. 'I know you just had a row with him, but you wouldn't consider just calling your boyfriend? I'm sure he didn't mean to leave you stranded here.'
'The bastard's not my boyfriend,' Duo said tightly. 'And, yeah, actually, he did.'
Bastard, yes, if that was true, Zechs thought. 'Right,' he said evenly. 'Listen, I only live about a kilometre inland from here. I can't drive you home because I've been drinking, but I can call my taxi service. You can wait in my house until they come.'
'Yeah, like I'm totally going home with some total stranger,' Duo told him, words and tone both dripping with acid scorn and sarcasm. 'Look, thanks and all for trying to help, but actually I'm fine, and I don't need someone trying to get their kicks out playing Sir Lancelot or whoever the fuck.'
'Sir Galahad, actually. ' Zechs spoke before he could stop himself.
'Oh, right, yeah, sorry for not having an expensive education that focused on people who've been dead for thousands of years, if they ever even fucking existed. My bad. Now, can you just fuck off, please? I don't need your help, and I definitely don't need whatever the hell you'll be expecting in return.'
'I don't want anything from you,' Zechs snapped back. 'It's not as if I'm going out of my way to help you. I'm walking home anyway. I have a phone plan so local calls are free. If you're scared to come into my house, you can wait outside the gates.
'I'm not fucking scared!' He sat up straight at that, at the implied insult, brash and fierce. Zechs idly wondered how old he actually was.
What he looked like.
'All right,' he said mildly. 'I've had enough of you swearing at me; I'm going home. Come or not. Up to you.'
He counted out twenty steps on the boardwalk before he heard someone behind him. In truth, he hadn't been sure if Duo would follow, or what to do if he didn't. Duo lagged behind him for the length of the path; Zechs paused every so often, pretending to admire the moonlight or, at one point, to retie the laces on one shoe. That gave Duo time to almost come up to him.
'If you like,' he said, deliberately not looking up from fumbling the knot in near-darkness, 'we can go up over the dunes here. It only takes about five minutes and my house is at the top. It's not that difficult, but there are a couple of places where you need to scramble a bit, and you might want to use the torch on your phone. Is that OK?'
'Why wouldn't it be?' Duo asked tersely.
'No reason.' God. A little gratitude, or even basic civility, wouldn't kill him surely. Still, it was probably the first sentence that hadn't been laden with words of the four-letter variety. Maybe that counted as courtesy.
He was halfway up before realising how far Duo was behind him. 'Are you all right?'
'Yeah.'
He'd probably say that if his limbs were all hanging off. And he very much doubted that any offer of help would be well received. Duo was clearly struggling and yes, it wasn't the easiest possible route, but he was clearly young, and had seemed fit enough. He'd been walking slowly even on the path, Zechs suddenly realised, but he'd put it down to the near-darkness and the uneven ground. He suddenly realised there could have been other reasons for that, and winced at the sudden dark thought that wormed itself into his brain, insidious.
Nothing had happened while they'd been arguing; there hadn't been time, but that didn't mean there hadn't been something earlier. Oh shit. He moved back down the little track to the most awkward part, and offered Duo his hand. He took it, the first time they'd touched and Zechs found himself sorry. Duo would never have let him help if he hadn't needed it badly.
He swallowed. 'Duo. The not-boyfriend. Did he hurt you?'
'Huh? No! No fucking way. I'd have flattened him if he'd tried.' He let Zechs help to pull him up, and didn't let go, just stood there with his head slightly tilted against the starry sky. 'Is that what you thought? I hurt my leg, is all. A while back. It aches a bit sometimes.'
'You should have said. We could have stayed on the path.' He moved his thumb, just a little, over Duo's skin, wondering, with an intensity that almost ached, what colour his eyes were.
'Nah. I'm OK.' He squeezed Zechs' hand before pulling away, so brief a pressure that he wasn't sure if he'd imagined it. 'Thanks. I'm good. Let's go.'
Zechs set a slower pace this time, pausing a couple of times to help Duo over a rough patch. Now that he looking for it, he could clearly see that Duo was favouring his left leg. When they were almost at the top, he sat down on a boulder, pulling out his phone. 'I just need to send a text.' It wasn't exactly subtle, but it was the only thing he could think of, on the spur of the moment; an excuse to rest that Duo might accept before they took the pathway to his house. He keyed in Disastrous date. Call me and sent to three people, knowing that at least one of them would still be up.
Quatre called back a second later, laughing at him. Zechs related the low points of the night, making it a funny story and laughing himself, very aware of Duo seated a few inches away. Near enough to touch.
'That's your idea of a disastrous date?' he demanded, once Zechs had dialled off. 'Seriously? You ditched the guy just because he was enthusiastic about his job, and he didn't order a fancy enough bottle of wine?' he demanded.
'No, I ditched him because he talked about himself for the whole meal, and wasn't interested in anything about me. And then assumed I'd want to go home with him afterwards.'
'Sheesh, that's nothing.' Duo snorted. 'Dermail – oh, the guy I was with – assumed the same thing, pretty much. Just 'cause he took me to some fancy, over-priced restaurant, he was sure I'd be begging him to fuck me for dessert. And, well you heard how that turned out.'
'I should think half of Southern Spain heard, actually,' Zechs teased. 'And at least you got dinner bought for you. I ended up paying, because he'd apparently forgotten his credit card.'
'Yeah, OK, that is pretty damn bad.' Duo spluttered with laughter. 'I'd say I'm still ahead on points though. I was supposed to be getting a job from that asshole. I guess that's not gonna happen. Um. D'you mind if we move now? My leg sort of seizes up sometimes, when I'm tired, if I stay in one place.'
'Of course. Come on.' They walked the last few hundred metres in silence, Zechs trying to walk as slowly as possible without making it too obvious, but Duo collapsed on the chair nearest the door as soon as they were inside anyway.
Zechs turned from switching the lights on, and immediately noticed three things.
The stray he'd brought home was older than he'd imagined; maybe in his mid-twenties.
Secondly, he was very clearly in considerable pain. However he'd played down hurting his leg, it wasn't just a scrape or sprain that would ache for a day or two.
'Can I get you something? A drink; brandy maybe? Or they probably wouldn't help much, but I have some mild pain-killers?'
'No! Uh, sorry. I don't drink and it's way too easy to get addicted to those pain-killers and stuff. Maybe a glass of water?'
'Of course.' In the kitchen, he took his time filling two glasses of Evian, adding ice and chunks of lemon and mint sprigs from the pot on his window-ledge, giving his unexpected guest some time to himself. Duo was on the floor when he walked back, his left leg stretched out awkwardly, and body twisted as he rubbed his knee with one hand.
He let himself acknowledge the third thing then, couldn't help it. Duo Maxwell, even with his face grimacing in pain, was, unquestionably, the most striking person he had ever seen. He slammed down on the thought as soon as it surfaced in his mind; utterly wrong and inappropriate.
'Here you are,' Zechs crouched down, handing him a glass.
'Thanks. Um. I don't know your name.'
'Zechs.'
'Zechs. Yeah. Thanks for everything. And sorry about before. Y'know. It's been a pretty rotten night, all things considered.'
'It sounds like it. Don't worry.' He put his own glass down and motioned to Duo's leg. 'Let me have a go. It's your knee, yes? The muscles?'
'How the hell did you know?'
'I broke my leg a few years ago, skiing. My physiotherapist taught me a few things. My knee used to hurt like hell for months after, so I do have some idea what it feels like. What happened to you?'
'Accident,' Duo said tersely, punctuating the word by putting his empty glass firmly on the floor.
'Are you always this talkative?'
There was a sudden, swift gleam of humour in Duo's eyes at the teasing, and then he swatted Zechs' hand away. 'Maybe it's not any of your fucking business. Maybe you need to stop tripping over your damn saviour complex. I never asked you to help me.'
'Dear God, Maxwell. I have known you for less than an hour, and you're already the most argumentative, stubborn, frustrating person I have ever met in my life.'
'It gets worse.'
'I don't doubt it for one second.'
Duo did manage a small grin at that, nothing more than a slight upturn of that lush, lovely mouth, but it was breath-taking. He'd be radiant if he smiled properly. He met Zechs' eyes, watching him, and a faint, fascinating colour washed over his cheekbones. 'Uh, yeah. Sorry. Again. And thanks.'
'My absolute pleasure.' He reached out again, laying one hand on Duo's leg. 'Tell me if this hurts, yes?'
Duo swallowed, audible in the silence between them, gaze fixed on Zechs' fingers, on his leg. 'It doesn't. It's good. So. This place, it's a lighthouse or something?'
'More or something. It's a mediaeval watchtower; there's a whole chain of them along this coast. The Arabs built them originally. It's over five hundred years old.'
'It's amazing.'
'Yes.' It was, Zechs thought so, but admittedly it wasn't to everyone's taste. 'It's a historical building,' he explained, 'so I'm not really allowed to alter anything. There are a few slit windows upstairs, and I've got skylights in my bedroom, but no natural light at all down here.' Since there was no way of letting any light in, short of knocking holes in centuries-old walls, he'd turned the ground floor into a Moorish jewel casket, glowing with antiques and rich fabrics and colours.
'I like it,' Duo pronounced. 'Like an Aladdin's Cave. Very cool.'
'Thank you.' He rotated his palm around Duo's knee, and slowly began to inch up his thigh, careful not to press too hard, and judging how it felt by the little hitches in his breath. 'I have a modern extension out the back where my kitchen is. It took me nearly two years to get planning approval, and then only because it doesn't interfere with the original structure, and it can't be seen from the coast road.'
'Wow,' Duo hissed. 'This is like the first time anyone's ever given me a lecture about planning regulations while their hand's almost on my cock.'
'Most guys find it a turn on,' Zechs told him, very serious, and Duo grinned. 'Do you want me to stop?'
'I dunno. Maybe if your hands are getting tired?'
'Not at all. I'm used to kneading dough.'
'What, you're saying I'm like pastry?' Duo made a face. 'I'm pretty sure that's not a compliment in anyone's book. You're a baker?'
'A chef. But I like baking, very much. And pastry. I have quite a sweet tooth actually.' He skimmed his palm over Duo's thigh, and upward a little. Inward. He pressed down. 'Yes?'
'Fuck, yes.'
'I've never in my life met anyone who swears as much as you do.'
That made Duo laugh; just as incredible as he'd imagined. 'I've had a fucking crap night, you know.'
'Oh, stop it. Shush.' He left his right hand where it was, with Duo arching up into his touch, and touched his free fingers to the other man's mouth, pressing it closed. 'Aren't things improving at all for you?'
'Yeah. Maybe. Might help if stopped just sitting there looking at me, and got on with kissing me?'
'I'm not sure,' Zechs said, teasing now. 'I'd like to, obviously, but I've seen at first hand how you react to people trying to kiss you when you don't want it. I'd rather not have this night end with you cursing me out of it. Again.'
'Maybe I won't.' Duo dared, challenge and invitation and entreaty all wrapped up in the tilt of his head and the quirk of his mouth. 'Only one way to find out.'
He'd expected the kiss to be a battle, because God knew everything else with him was, but those plush lips parted at the first touch of his, sweet and warm and pliant. Zechs half-laughed, surprised, delighted, wholly entranced, and then kissed him again.
'Oh, now we're getting somewhere.' Duo pulled back, just a little, still close enough for Zechs to feel the warmth of breath on skin from his words, from the little huff of almost-laughter when Zechs' hand squeezed a certain place, considerably less gentle than he'd been with the leg. 'I'd ask you to fuck me,' he whispered, those immense violet eyes sparkling with mischief and spiked with something darker, 'but you'd just complain about me swearing at you again.'
'I might make an exception for you,' he breathed, fingers curving around Duo, hard enough to make him gasp. 'Just this once.'
It was morning when he woke up properly, late enough that the rim of clear glass on the skylight about his bed was showing a narrow margin of bright blue, around the dark linen shade. Morning, definitely; almost midday, he confirmed, glancing at his watch. He hadn't slept much; neither of them had. They'd dozed intermittently in fits and starts, but then there'd be kisses pressed along a swathe of bare skin, or a stray caress, or a few whispered words scattered into the pool of velvet darkness. The pair of them had been far too enchanted with discovering each other, and exactly how many ways they could fit together to waste time on mere sleep; far too focused on exploring what precise combinations of lips and tongue and fingers could result in a catch of breath at over-stimulation that was almost-but-not-quite-pain, or a low moan of pleasure, or a stream of curses from Duo, interspersed with ragged, pleading gasps of Zechs' name.
He should have been tired, really, considering, Zechs reflected idly. He wasn't, remotely. He had Duo in his bed, curled in his arms, like he'd never been anywhere else in his life. He'd never be anywhere else again, if Zechs had his way, and certainly not with anyone else. That was a scary, unexpected thought for many reasons, not least because Duo would probably fight him every step of the way. It was always a fight. Almost always. A few significant, glorious exceptions. He'd started to argue with the way Zechs had arranged them, though, himself wrapped around Duo's slighter body, claiming that he wasn't some damn girl to be cuddled. Zechs had just laughed, and said he was perfectly aware that Duo wasn't any kind of a girl, and then very effectively proved it. Afterwards, there'd been no more arguments.
He wasn't going to be bored anyway, Zechs decided, smiling to himself. Half-dead with exhaustion most of the time, quite probably, but he could survive that. And enjoy it immensely; if there were more mornings like this. Sheerest perfection. Duo was gorgeous; bright, funny, fascinating. Perfect. He dropped a kiss on the top of Duo's rumpled head, winding a finger through the clouds of tumbled, tangled hair. It was thicker than his own, with a slight wave to it, and every shade of brown in the universe, shot through with sunlit threads of copper and gold. Oh, perfection, undoubtedly. He wrapped one lock around his finger, idly playful, and felt Duo stir slightly.
He started to smile, incandescent, and then suddenly something slammed down behind those glorious eyes, and he made a grab for the sheet, pulling it over himself.
'Duo, don't. Please. I've already seen it.'
Duo sniffed, fingers wrapped so tightly around the fabric that his knuckles showed white. 'Then you know exactly how hideous it looks.'
'There is not one ugly thing about you,' Zechs said sincerely. 'Duo, truly.' He leaned down, coaxing Duo's lips with his own until they opened for him. 'You are beyond stunning. Beyond anything.' He slid the sheet back down and bent to kiss the knee, brushing kisses along the biggest of the scars on his thigh. 'I'm sorry that it still hurts you. I'm sorry if anyone's ever said anything that implied you weren't still perfect.' Someone had, at some point, and he knew that as well as he knew how to breathe. The not-boyfriend had, even, although he hadn't understood then, telling Duo he was lucky that anyone wanted to be with him, in the circumstances. 'But you are very truly the most exquisite person I have ever seen in my entire life.'
'You asked me, last night, how it happened,' Duo said, abrupt and a little shaky. 'This is how. Over a year ago now. I was working for this guy on L2. This CEO. He collected vintage cars; I was his private mechanic. It was like my total dream job; you've no idea. I don't know, like you'd probably like to work in some fancy restaurant with those stars. What're they called?'
'Michelin,' Zechs said quietly. His restaurant had three. He'd never ached so much just from the pain in someone's voice.
'Right. Yeah. God, those cars. The most beautiful things you've ever seen. Dunno if you've ever been to L2, but there's not this huge amount of pretty stuff.'
Even less now, Zechs thought. He didn't say it; Duo didn't need words. Instead, he resettled them carefully, holding Duo.
'Anyway. The guy had this son, Tony. He was sixteen or seventeen, I forget. He was into cars like his dad, and he liked knowing how they worked. He used to help me out, sometimes, after school. He was a nice kid.'
Duo, Zechs reflected, had probably only been a handful of years older, but worlds away from the privileged teenager.
'Yeah, anyway.' Duo shifted restlessly against him; this time, Zechs let him go, let Duo settle himself, one arm propped up on a pillow. 'His dad wasn't too keen, wanted him to focus on his studies and school and all that, so he used to sneak out sometimes, early and mess around in the garage, before I got there even. I used to tell him not to, made him swear he'd never do anything much, but I didn't want to tell his dad and get him in trouble. So, this one morning, I was a bit late getting to their place 'cause there was some public transport strike and I had to walk a lot of the way. There was one car, a Lotus. It was like this total one-off model, that my boss had just had imported from Earth. Tony was fucking in love with it; he was convinced his dad was gonna give it to him as a graduation present, when he finished high school. Anyhows. Before I'd left, the night before, I'd had it all set up for a full service; they need it, y'know, after the shuttle flight. So,' he said, his voice becoming brisk and impersonal, 'I got to the garage, and he had the car up on the hoist, but he hadn't rigged it properly and I could see the chains were gonna snap, and he was fucking underneath, and God, I didn't even think, I managed to knock him out of the way, I still dunno how I fucking managed and ... You can guess the rest.'
'The car fell on you.'
'On my leg, yeah. Next thing I knew, I was in a hospital bed, off my head on morphine and this fancy lawyer guy was telling me I had two options. My boss knew I'd saved his son's life, and he was willing to give me this big one-off payment in gratitude, but I'd have to sign all kinds of shit saying I wasn't holding him responsible, that it'd just been an accident. Option two was I could try taking him to court, but it could drag on for years, and I'd probably get nothing in the end, and all he'd get was maybe a small fine. Oh, and as I didn't have any medical insurance, I'd end up having my leg amputated, 'cause I couldn't afford any other treatments.'
'You took it?'
'Hell, no.' Duo's teeth showed in what was nothing like a smile. 'I fucking haggled. Got nearly twice the amount; I knew all along that no one wanted a court case. My boss didn't want the cops sniffing around anywhere near him; didn't want his kid getting any kind of blot on his record before applying to college. So I took the money and spent nearly ten months getting my leg put back together and then took the first shuttle to Madrid.'
'I'm very glad you did. Why Spain, may I ask?'
Duo shrugged. 'Sure. There was a poster in my ward. This little side street in a town in Spain somewhere. Didn't say where, exactly. Y'know, cobbled streets, and white houses and those bright pink flowers. Bougainvillea. I'd never seen anything so pretty. I just wanted to be there, in that poster. Always had this dream, coming to Earth, living near the sea. Opening my own business.'
'That's what you're going to do?'
'Yep, got a premises and everything. Swish place in Marbella. Fancy address. Thought this'd be a good place to set up; lots of rich people around here, right?'
'Yes. So, you're opening a garage?'
'Kinda, yeah. More a place to restore vintage cars, motorbikes, y'know? Maybe source 'em for people. I love old cars. Classics. They've got, I dunno, personality. Not like cars today, they're all run on computer chips. Uh, sorry,' he broke off. 'I go on about this stuff way too much. No one gets it.'
'I like it,' Zechs smiled, liking his enthusiasm. 'So, can I ask, the man last night? You said you were going to work for him.'
'Uh, not really. I got his name a few weeks ago from someone I used to know on L2. He collects vintage cars; he was looking for a mechanic to keep on retainer. Y'know, someone he could call if there was a problem, who'd be available when he wanted.' His mouth twisted. 'Guess he wanted me to be more available that I'd planned. Last night was supposed to be to talk about work. Yeah, and wasn't I the clueless idiot for believing him? Not like it's the first time it's happened; not even close. All these rich assholes have fantasies about fucking their mechanics.'
'Really? What a shame you didn't tell me your job last night. I could have ticked you off my fantasy list.'
'Oh, fuck you,' Duo groused, but he was grinning, and he let himself drop down to the mattress, resting his head on Zechs' shoulder.
'If you like, yes.' Zechs slid an arm around his waist, pulling him closer. 'Tell me all about these mechanic fantasies? What do they want you to wear: dirty overalls and a tool-belt? Bending over the bonnet of the car or on the back seat? I could maybe get into that.'
'I already said, fuck you,' Duo retorted, without any heat whatsoever, and violet eyes sparkling.
'I already said I wouldn't be averse.'
'Yeah, we'll have to see about that.' Duo titled his head up, just a little, and Zechs obligingly bent and kissed him. 'I'll have to come up with some nice kinky chef fantasies.'
'I'm very good with an egg whisk,' Zechs informed him.
'I bet you are,' Duo said darkly. 'Not bad without one either.'
'I think that's the nicest thing you've said to me so far,' Zechs smiled at him. 'I'm sorry about what happened last night, truly. But I'm very glad you're here.'
'Yeah. So. Here I am. What happens next?'
'Breakfast,' Zechs said promptly. 'Then we'll see. I wouldn't object if you wanted to drag me back up here, or I have a very private garden. I'd like to show you the rest of the house too. But primarily, the plan involves a great deal of food and sex.' He leaned over and gave Duo a quick kiss on the mouth. 'Acceptable?'
Duo shrugged, grinning. 'Just about, I guess.'
'You,' Zechs kissed him again, 'are an extremely demanding person, aren't you?'
'Well, duh. It's taken you that long to notice that?'
'It took me about five minutes, last night. Now, what would you like to eat?'
'Dunno.' Duo stretched, a very deliberate, decadent arch of that lovely body. 'Is there anything special you'd like to have yourself?'
'I'm not quite sure,' Zechs laughed, light and breathless. I may need to sample a couple of things before I decide.'
After, they lay half-dozing in a splash of sunlight, Zechs idly sliding one hand through Duo's hair, enjoying the way the sunbeams picked out the brighter strands, gilding the few freckles splashed over his pale skin.
'I thought you were gonna make me breakfast, Mr. Chef,' Duo muttered.
'I did offer, but you didn't seem very hungry.' He squirmed back as one long, pointed finger poked into his ribs, a place Duo had already found out was ticklish, and caught the hand as it extended to poke him again. 'Stop that.' He raised Duo's fingers to his mouth, sucking each in turn between his lips and biting gently.
'No, you don't,' Duo said briskly, although he paired the tone with a low chuckle and a press of his fingertips against Zechs' mouth. 'Not this again. Not unless you feed me first.'
'Endlessly demanding,' Zechs grumbled, purely for form's sake, and slid out of bed. Duo shifted over to his side of the mattress, watching appreciatively as he pulled on the jeans he'd been wearing the night before. They'd pulled most of each other's clothes off on the way upstairs, but his jeans had made it all the way to the bedroom, and there was one sad-looking sock hanging off the door knob.
'Mmm,' Duo leered. 'You don't need to get dressed on my account. I'm enjoying the view way too much.'
He grinned, bending down to drop a kiss on Duo's mouth. 'I take it you've never tried cooking naked, have you? I wouldn't recommend it. Stay there. I'll bring a tray up.'
'Breakfast in bed, huh?' Duo was smiling at him when he stood back, open and incandescent. 'Don't take too long. I'm pretty hungry now, after all that rolling around.'
'I'll hurry,' Zechs promised. 'If you get lonely, just come downstairs. It's the door directly opposite the staircase.'
He was smiling as he ran downstairs. He possibly hadn't stopped smiling since he'd kissed Duo, touched him, the night before. He'd make French toast, he decided; something light and sweet and fragrant. He had fresh raspberries from the garden, and a brioche that he'd brought home from the restaurant the day before, just in cast the date with the accountant had turned out well enough to stretch into bed-and-breakfast. Well, it hadn't, but everything had turned out perfectly all the same.
No complaints, whatsoever, he thought, still smiling as he sliced the loaf. It was one of the very first things he'd learned to cook, when he'd been seven or eight. His father had served as the Sanqian ambassador for four years, and the embassy chef had been kind to the bored, frustrated little boy Zechs had been back then, struggling to adapt to a new country, and a new school and new classmates who'd known each other for ever, with his parents far too busy with official engagements, and Relena too small to be much of a companion. He'd spent hours in the kitchens, until his mother found out her only son was wasting his time hob-nobbing with servants. Of course, once she'd forbidden him to go near the kitchen, it had been even more tempting.
French toast, almonds, and some little dishes of syrup and fruit sauce just in case Duo liked getting creative with his food.
'Did you get lonely?' he asked after ten minutes, hearing the door open, and turning around.
'Got hungry,' Duo retorted. 'Thanks to you not being able to keep your hands off me. Or the rest of you.'
'Mm. Still a problem for me, I'm afraid. And I apologise in advance for this.' He prudently moved both pots off the heat, and pulled Duo towards him, and into a long kiss.
'Huh. Just as well you apologised,' Duo groused, propping himself against the edge of the table, and looking perfectly happy with his life. 'The things I have to put up in this place to get fed.'
'Shocking, yes. Do you think you can wait five minutes, before starving to death?'
'Maybe. Oh.' He looked around. 'This is nice. Not what I'd expected.'
The kitchen annexe was a total contrast to the rest of the tower; two walls of floor-to-ceiling windows; with the sea on one side, and his garden on the other, flooded with light and dancing sunbeams. It was a lovely room that Zechs had helped to design, a room he loved, and Duo Maxwell, barefoot and with his hair in a messy knot, definitely improved it.
'I guess you really are a proper chef, huh?' Duo asked, pulling himself on to the table, and hooking his bad leg over a chair, watching him stir the raspberry coulis.
'I really am. What did you think; that I worked at McDonalds?'
'I guess not. But this looks seriously fancy. You know. Gourmet shit.'
'Not shit,' Zechs reproved, reaching around him to give that perfect backside a light swat with his wooden spoon, and then handing Duo a plate. 'Voila. For monsieur's dining pleasure. Brioche French toast with raspberry coulis, toasted almonds and maple cream. Shall we go outside? It's a lovely day. I have a couple of reclining chairs; you'll be able to put your leg up.'
'I'm fine,' Duo said, quick, automatically defensive.
'Very fine, yes.' He hadn't missed the little signs though; the way Duo had carefully positioned himself with a resting-place for his leg, and the faint grimace of pain. Going down the steep stairs probably hadn't helped anything; he'd managed to go up all right, the night before, but Zechs had been half-carrying him at that point anyway, and neither of them probably would have noticed if both legs had fallen off, provided other body parts had remained intact and in working order.
'Come on. I want to show you the view.' He didn't wait for an answer, but headed outside.
'Wow,' Duo gasped, looking around. 'Wow, total wow. Can I move in here?'
'Of course.' Zechs took his favourite chair, and motioned Duo to take the other, sitting back and looking at his favourite place in the world; at the eternity of sunlit, sparkling sea and sky.
'I was only joking.' Duo bit his lip and looked very fixedly at the horizon. 'I should be going anyway.'
'Yes, I know. I'll take you, once we've finished eating.' Zechs said, his level tone a total contrast to how he was feeling. Internally begging Duo to stay. 'So was I, really. But you're more than welcome to stay for as long as you like.'
'Yeah. Right. So.' Duo glanced over at him. 'Tell me something. You've kinda got a lot going for you. Why's someone like you single? I mean, you are, right?'
Zechs nodded. 'Of course. And you?'
'Oh.' Duo took a sudden interest in his juice, plucking out the segment of orange Zechs had positioned on the side of the glass, and starting to strip the peel off. 'Yeah. Kinda bad break up after the accident. No one much since then.'
'I'm sorry.'
'Don't be. He was a fucking asshole. I was better off without him. I always pick total losers. Or they pick me. Whatever.'
He was very clearly trying to be offhand about it all, and equally clearly wanted Zechs to treat it the same way. No sympathy expected or appreciated.
'Well, I hope I'm not a loser, exactly, but I do have a very demanding job. I started my own restaurant about six years ago. That doesn't leave a lot of time for dating. And it's terribly anti-social; I have to be there in the evenings and weekends. People tend to get tired of me never being able to do anything with them. And I'm told I'm overly obsessed with food.'
'That sucks.' Duo was suddenly very focused on his plate, cutting perfect squares of toast, and dipping each one, just so, in the raspberries. 'I'm not fancy, y'know. I'm a pizza-and-burger person. I'm not into all this foofy stuff. I mean, last night was great and all, but we've got fuck-all in common.'
'Possibly, but I think we seem to be getting on rather well. You like my house. I like cooking and you seem to like eating my food.' He arched an eyebrow, and Duo nodded, very enthusiastically. 'And we both seemed to enjoy being in bed together. And out of it. I can make you the most perfect hamburger in the universe. A Duo-burger.' He grinned at the idea of it, and then sobered. Duo wasn't smiling. 'I'm not proposing, you know. Just saying I'd like to spend more time with you. Possibly go on an actual date.'
'You're asking me out? Seriously?' Impossible to read his expression.
'Yes. Why not? Dinner; a drive along the coast. I can take you sailing if you like boats. I like you, Duo. Is that so hard to believe?'
Duo hunched one shoulder in a graceless shrug, and Zechs suddenly wanted to find every person who'd somehow made Duo Maxwell ever feel that he was less than perfection incarnate and strangle them with his bare hands.
'Dunno. I'm not the easiest person to be with.'
'You're a lovely person to be with,' Zechs said sincerely. 'Let me take you out. Please? Just dinner, carino.'
'Huh.' Duo's eyes narrowed. 'What's that mean?'
'An attractive but very annoying person.'
'I don't believe you.'
'No,' Zechs admitted. 'It's an endearment, meant for someone you're fond of.'
'You don't know me,' Duo said flatly, jaw snapping shut on the final syllable and mouth thinning to near invisibility.
'Well. I do, just a little. And I'd like to get to know you more. Yes?'
'Dunno if I want to go anywhere with you.' His expression did soften, just a little, though. 'You took me out last night, and you dragged me up a freaking mountain in the dark.'
'A sand dune,' Zechs corrected. 'And that wasn't actually me taking you out, may I add. It was me taking you home. I don't think you have any complaints about what happened after that.'
'Jeez,' Duo muttered. 'You're full of yourself, aren't you? No wonder you're single.'
'Ouch.' He feigned a wounded look, that rather quickly morphed into a smile, watching Duo. Watching Duo sitting on his terrace eating raspberries and threatening to leave, but actually looking rather comfortable. 'How about tonight?'
Duo shook his head. 'I haven't even said I'd go out with you yet. But I'd kinda like to see your restaurant maybe.'
'Anything you like. And maybe you'll even let me kiss you at the end of the night, if I behave myself. Or you can yell at me if you'd prefer.'
'Maybe.' His gaze, trained on Zechs' face, was very direct.
'Just maybe, hmmm? What about now?'
'What about now what?'
'This what?' He put his plate down, almost empty now, and crossed the few steps between them, bending down. Duo didn't yell at him. Duo tasted of everything that was delicious in the world; ripe raspberries and cream and sugar and a hint of spice. Sunlight and lazy mornings and laughter.
'So, what time shall I pick you up?' He pulled back just a little to ask the question. 'Or, if you liked, you could just stay here all day, and we can leave together.'
'Jeez. I didn't even say I'd go with you yet, and you're already planning my whole life out for me! You got some fucking ego on you, y'know that?'
'So I've been told, yes.' He crouched down at Duo's side. 'You did say you wanted to see my restaurant,' he tempted. 'We can do that. And then come back here, and do a little more of this.'
'Oh, we're back to this now, are we?' Duo canted his head, invitation clearly written on the curve of his lips, the curl of his fingers around Zechs' hand. 'Yeah, OK, fine. But I'll be wanting breakfast in the morning again.'
'Endlessly demanding,' Zechs chided, smiling. Demanding, yes, and utterly, beyond perfect.