Disclaimer: I don't own the GW characters – am just borrowing to torment for my amusement - also don't own the lyrics to Fever
Warnings: Swearing, yaoi, violence, hints of long past NCS, dark Duo
Pairings: Primarily 3x2, past/presentish 1x2, past 3x4 and 1x3
A/N: Sorry for those who favorited and followed this fic for the delay in updates… as this has less than Domino I'm trying to finish that and do regular Friday updates so this one gets left behind a little. I also changed my mind totally about the Duo chapter I wrote as it was basically too much 1x2 for a 3x2 fic so I abandoned it and rewrote.
Anyway, I have an additional warning for dark Duo… let's say this is Shinigami Duo…
Chapter Two
Fever
The bar was smoky, bans for the health of customers not cared for in the circles that descended on the discreet gentleman's club simply called Twelve. It was called Twelve due to the number of original members but times had changed since it had opened hundreds of years ago and it now resided in the L1 colony cluster discreetly located above a row of boutiques and expensive jewellery shops. The doorway was inconspicuous, the number 12 only present on the gleaming blackness of the door and it opened to allow entrance up a flight of stairs. The actual club was above the shops – a large dark room with a chrome and black bar down one side with a comfortable and large seating area and a stage at the opposite end to the entrance. There was music playing but it was quiet, a pulsing low rhythm like a heartbeat that shook through the floor and walls, a sensual beat.
Twelve was a very exclusive club that very few individuals were able to attend. To become a member was a complicated process that included already knowing someone in the club who could vouch for the individual and then stretched to how much money could be donated to continue the "high quality entertainment and reputation" of Twelve. The sort of men who attended Twelve could be classed as the great and the good – men who worked in big business, men who had wives and adorable children and men who gave generously to charity. They were the sort of men who justified their actions at Twelve by doing great deeds the rest of the time.
Twelve had so many rules to becoming a member but it was nothing compared to the rules to allowing a guest or a non-member to enter. It was protection for high profile clients – within Twelve they were untouchable and there was no one who could even get near them. Due to these rules, many established members raised an eyebrow when a young man walked through the room wearing a form fitting black outfit. He was unusual in many respects. Firstly in age, most men who entered Twelve were at least in their forties and clearly the man in question was in his twenties. Secondly there was the clothing… tight black jeans, a tight black t-shirt, a fitted leather jacket and large biker boots – the rest of the clientele wore suits or at least smart attire. There were rules about that. Then there was the third reason. The hair. A long chestnut brown braid that cascaded down the young man's back and ended at the thighs. A few of the regular gentleman wanted to know who had invited the young man as their guest. He was intriguing.
A few made the obvious assumption as they glanced at the young man. The men who attended Twelve had various tastes. Some young, some old, some male, some female. The guest definitely had a certain quality to him, a slight androgyny thing that was palatable to some of the men who were perhaps too afraid of a more masculine man but wanted to play. He had no issue with confidence it seemed as he simply strode through the room, fully aware of eyes upon him and walked toward the small round tables situated near the stage. There was one man already seated at a table, before the night's "entertainment" began, and it seemed this was the member who had invited the young man. A gruff old politician, a senator of the L1 cluster in the Earth Sphere Unified Nations parliament looked at his companion, a beautiful young woman with raven hair and wearing very little as he had requested and smiled.
"Marlow's preference," he said, glancing over to the man at the table who was now being joined by the young man.
Henry Marlow was different for many of the men who attended Twelve. He was old European money but had been disowned many years ago. His money was of mysterious origin and he drifted around the colonies. It was rumoured he fought for OZ and personally knew Treize Khushrenada but it was doubtful. Marlow told tales and many tales were not true. He was also younger than the usual clients – he was in his early thirties rather than the usual old men. A few pairs of eyes watched as he greeted the young man as he sat beside him. A hand moved to the denim clad thigh while the other gestured toward a waitress who approached with a deferential smile. The next moment, Marlow seemed to be whispering into the young man's ear who was looking forward as he did.
The man in black denim was former Gundam pilot Duo Maxwell who didn't appreciate how quickly Marlow had become handsy. His hand was on his thigh and it didn't seem to be moving as the man, his breath smelling of booze, leaned in.
"You are as interesting as promised."
"You get what you pay for."
"Hmm… and what exactly did I pay for?"
To play along, he turned his head towards the man, giving a suggestive smirk. "Whatever you want."
Duo could see the man shiver at his words and it had got the required action as Marlow reached out to touch his face, sweeping away the hair there and running the pad of his thumb over his cheek. He tried not to shudder or react in any way – Marlow was meant to be completely clueless of his actual reasons for being here and he was going to keep it that way. Until the hotel room.
The waitress arrived with drinks and Marlow had taken the liberty of ordering him a glass of expensive whiskey so he accepted it.
'Hey, I'm at an expensive gentleman's club,' Duo thought, 'I might as well try expensive whisky.'
As the waitress in the tiny skirt walked away, Marlow slapped her backside with what couldn't be called a gentle swipe. The girl giggled and walked away waving. Duo tried to stop his eyebrows from raising as this was probably normal behaviour – the girls were obviously trained to accept the attentions of the men in the club. He'd seen a sleazy old L1 senator that he recognised from the news feeds with a young black haired girl virtually in his lap. The guy had given him an eye full as he'd walked in. Seemed they were all perverted here.
He took a sip of the drink and realised how intensely Marlow was looking at him. The guy wasn't bad looking, he figured, tall and dressed in a charcoal suit with a red flower in his buttonhole. His dirty blonde hair was slicked back and he had dark brown eyes that seemed to be fixated on his lips and throat as he drunk. It didn't take much guess work to think of what Marlow was thinking but Duo only hoped he could hold everything off until the hotel room. Until he had the privacy to work.
"I suggest we stay for the entertainment and then depart…?"
"It's your night…I'm yours to do what the hell you like with."
"Oh…I think I can think of a lot of things… Max."
Max was the least subtle name he could pick but this wasn't about subtlety. When Cypher had sent him the specs of the job, the files, the photographs, he'd just packed his bag up and left to L1. He'd just said use Max as his name as an afterthought. He didn't really care anymore. He'd long since stopped being careful about what he did. Maybe he'd got cocky. Or maybe he just knew Heero was around to sort out his messes electronically. Between Cypher and Heero, his occupation and life as it was now had remained hidden from the Preventers and local authorities.
His train of thought was stopped as music started at a louder volume, a girl had come out wearing the tightest black dress he'd ever seen and approached an old fashioned microphone with stand. The club was going for a vibe of vintage glamour – a vintage so old that it predated the colonies as the music started. It was a very old song that started, an old rhythm that was unlike the usual music of that sort of clubs that Duo found himself in. The girl had bright red lips and was standing off centre to the stage leaving a single spotlight in the middle waiting for the other part of the entertainment to arrive.
She started singing, her voice husky and erotic. Duo noticed that a lot more of the tables had become occupied around them. Old men with young women. He saw a couple men with young men who screamed male hooker – they'd gone for eyeliner, mesh t-shirts, shorts. He wasn't going to stoop that low for a cover and plus, it seemed Marlow had only one preference. Long hair. And that he had plenty of.
"Never know how much I love you, never know how much I care, when you put your arms around me, I get a fever that's so hard to bare, you give me fever."
On starting the lyrics, another girl started walking into the middle of the stage wearing a lot less clothing than the singer. She wore something that looked like it was made of diamonds, or at least a cheap version, a short dress that shimmered as she walked to the centre of the stage.
"Ever seen the ancient art of burlesque?"
"No," Duo replied.
He'd never been remotely attracted to girls and his first sexual experience, though very unpleasant and he'd been far too young, had been with a man and every one after. He could appreciate women in a vague way but never anything sexual. It was why Hilde probably still hated him.
"Then let me explain," Marlow said smoothly and Duo glanced down as the older man's hand was now rubbing further up his thigh. Fuck. He had a feeling that this was turning the other man on and he feared a men's room blowjob might be requested of him. He had no intention of doing that and he had no intention of getting Marlow alone until the hotel room. That was the point he could safely get his blades out and do what he was meant to be doing.
"Burlesque is not about the stripping… it's about the tease. Yes, the girl gets naked," at this point the girl was removing her garter down her thigh with a little wink towards the audience, "but she does so in a way that is, shall we say, less degrading."
"You can't convince me this ain't just stripping," Duo replied turning his eyes towards Marlow who had a disturbingly hungry look in his eyes.
"Well, watch, Max and see what you think. Perhaps you learn some moves to use in my suite later."
He sat back in his chair, removed the hand from Duo's thigh and folded his arms across his chest. Slightly relieved, Duo took another sip of his whisky and watched the girl remove the dress, slowly, down her body, a smile on her face. The song seemed to be reaching some sort ending as she put her hair down, stood in only sparkly underwear that didn't cover much of her pale skin. She ran her fingers through hair, sensually smiling at the audience and Duo glanced across at Marlow. He figured he probably wanted that move – no lover had ever got him to put his hair down. Not even Heero in their years of being on and off. He could figure every guy wanted it, he supposed they wanted to see how it felt over their bodies but he never had. Never would. It involved trust to do that and sure as hell, he'd never trusted anyone with that part of himself. Heero had come close but that was years ago. Before the Rio mission.
"He gave me fever, with his kisses, fever when he holds me tight, fever."
Duo felt himself shiver despite the heat of bodies in the club. He tried not to think about Heero Yuy and how their lives had ended up in the mess that they were. They'd been together for two years after the wars, lived together, joined the Preventers and then seemed from the outside, happy. He had been happy for a time but they were explosive as a couple, liable to fight and argue, then the mission in Rio tore them apart. They tried for some time afterwards but they couldn't look each other in the eye anymore. Sex without kissing, without looking at each other, hands close to strangling each other rather than just holding. He still saw Heero, still cared for him, but they got too close to nearly killing each other if they tried to fuck that they stopped it. He supposed he had to thank the asshole despite himself and everything that had happened between them. The wire transfers he sent at the end of each of his jobs was his way of showing he still gave a damn. A way he tried to keep Heero in the land of the living instead of descending back into the coldness of the Perfect Soldier. He wasn't sure it worked but it made him feel better.
"Fever til you sizzle, what a lovely way to burn. What a lovely way to burn."
It was then Duo realised he'd been staring at the bottom of his own whisky glass and there was clapping and whooping around him as the girl now had no clothing on apart from the sparkly thong. The song finished, the men around him clapped as the girl bowed and then walked off the stage in a very sultry fashion.
"Didn't interest you?" Marlow asked, an eyebrow quirked.
"Not into chicks."
"Good… neither am I."
Marlow stood and he offered his hand to Duo who took it and stood up. He had to play along and it seemed an old concept of chivalry was something Marlow did. Another song was starting, a similar old fashioned sound and Marlow pulled Duo forward, forcing him close and almost making him lose his balance from the sudden movement. Marlow smirked as it had forced him into his arms.
"I can't wait to have you," he whispered.
Duo tried to think of the sort of slutty thing he should say but his mind went blank so instead, he lifted his head to the taller man and gave a quick teasing brush of his lips. It seemed it kept Marlow interested and unable to see his real intentions and that was what he needed.
"Back to my suite?"
"Whatever you say."
They exited Twelve with a few glances but Duo wasn't sure whether it was him or Marlow brazen attitude. He had an arm around his waist which made it slightly difficult to walk and they'd nearly got out of the bar when he heard a cough and Marlow had stopped in front of a booth with the senator from L1 that Duo had recognised.
"Leaving so early, Marlow?"
"I'll leave you men to the rest of the evening's entertainment… since I'm the only one young enough in here to get it up, I plan on spending an evening with my charming companion."
"And where did you buy him?"
Duo stiffened and was tempted to knock the lights out of the old senator but knew he needed to act tame… companionable.
"Oh, senator, wouldn't you like to know."
With this exchange, they left the club, descending the stairs and out into the night air of the colony. The air never felt fresh in a colony like it did on earth but Duo appreciated it after the heat and smoky atmosphere of Twelve.
"This way," Marlow instructed as they walked away from Twelve along the boutique lined street.
"No limo?"
"No, Max. I'm sure you've heard of the Grand Royale?"
"The super fancy hotel?"
"Yes, that's the one. I have the penthouse suite and I thoroughly intend enjoying you on every surface of it."
They arrived at the Grand Royale quickly, Marlow keeping a hand on him at all times during the walk as Duo began to feel his heart racing. Marlow thought he was the weak one in the situation, the prey, ready to be taken, used and devoured without complaint. Little did he know it was in fact Marlow that was the prey.
The knife he kept in his boot was serrated, the one attached to his left thigh a simple blade but just as lethal. Once they arrived at the penthouse suite, Marlow removed his suit jacket and motioned for Duo to remove his leather jacket. Duo could feel his heart beating faster as he removed the jacket and watched as Marlow approached the mini-bar to pour two glasses of whisky from a glittering decanter and added ice.
"A little drink before…?"
"I thought you had plans for me."
"Well, a little alcohol relaxes the soul."
He took the glass, swirled the drink around and took a sip looking up at the other man. Marlow stepped closer, a hand now in the back pocket of his jeans and Duo tried to not look uncomfortable. He was meant to be used to doing this and he still had to wait a few more moments before he struck. Blue eyes glanced towards the large four poster bed and then back towards the man.
"Want to get comfortable?" Duo asked, trying to be as suggestive as possible.
"Aren't you eager?"
"Well, you've paid for the night with me, you don't want me to just raid the minibar, do you?"
Marlow laughed. "No, of course not."
He began to walk towards the bed, starting to loosen the tie around his neck as he did but noticed that Duo hadn't moved from his current position. He jumped onto the bed and patted a space next to him.
"Aren't you joining me?"
"Sure am," he said, placing the glass down and stalking towards the bed.
'Any minute now,' Duo thought as the other man's defences were completely down.
The older man reached out as he arrived at the bed, Duo deciding to stand in between the other man's spread legs rather than sit on the bed. Marlow had got rid of his shoes and Duo was conscious he was still in his boots as he'd needed access to his knife when he got to this point.
The kiss was something he'd wanted to entirely avoid as Marlow had leaned forward and it was rough, unyielding, demanding. He pushed the other man back whose eyes were heavy lidded.
"Back on the bed," Duo instructed.
"I thought it was whatever I wanted?"
"You're getting what you want."
Marlow raised his eyebrows but followed Duo's instructions, moving to lie back on the bed and removed some of the large pillows onto the floor. Duo leaned down to his boots taking them off and grabbed the serrated blade, holding it behind his back as he followed the other man to the bed. He straddled the body, feeling that Marlow was hard, ready, waiting for him.
"So what now, Max?"
"Do you remember a girl?"
"I thought we discussed that I wasn't interested in women…"
"No, you were interested in her. She was thirteen. She was loved."
Brown eyes widened suddenly as the conversation had changed. He struggled for a second but Duo pushed the man down to bed with his hands firmly and forcefully on Marlow's chest. It was then that Marlow realised that the young man above him despite being shorter and seemed weaker, was in fact stronger. And he also noticed that one hand held a large serrated blade.
"Who the hell are you?"
"I'm your nightmare," Duo said, twirling the blade in his hand.
"Who hired you?"
"Does it matter, Henry? You killed her. You beat her so hard that they found the imprint of your ring in her face and all over her body. But because you're a rich and influential asshole, they let you go, didn't they?"
"There was no evidence! No proof!"
"Isn't this proof?" Duo ran the knife over the man's face, making the shallowest of cuts, a slight amount of blood falling from the man's cheek. "You're terrified."
"I'm terrified because I assume you are about to kill me and I am fond of being alive."
"Did you think she was? She was thirteen, Henry… thirteen is too young to die. What was she called? Do you remember that?"
"Kristina Marshall."
"Good… maybe you have some fucking remorse."
"And will you have remorse for this… Max?"
"For you? No fucking way."
The stab straight through the heart was quick and with a lot of power. Duo had been doing this long enough to know how to do this and also the surprising amount of strength and pressure required. He left the knife there for a second and leaned back, seeing the last few moments of life as blood started to flow and pool over the hotel's sheets. He then grabbed his knife and then jumped off the bed, walking back towards the minibar and downed what he'd left of his whisky. Straight after the kill, there was an adrenalin but in a few seconds he'd be feeling as shitty as he always did so he hoped the alcohol might at least make him feel something.
He walked over to the large window and then grabbed his cell phone from his back pocket and dialled.
"You have reached the fountain of all knowledge and all that is awesome, speak mortal."
"Cypher… it's me."
"Is it done?"
"Yup… Henry Marlow has bled out on the bed of the Grand Royale."
"So you getting out of there, kiddo?"
Duo sighed. Cypher was only a few years older than him so he resented the kiddo thing. He'd always been kid or kiddo in his time being a Sweeper and had hated it then. He hated it now even more as a twenty six year old man but he let it slide.
"What did they want?"
"Huh?"
"Cypher, geez, you'd think you weren't used to doing this shit. What proof did they want?"
"The right hand ring finger."
"Makes sense."
"He doesn't happen to still wear the ring?"
"Nope."
"Shame. You could've taken that as well."
"Well, I'd love to chat Cypher but, you know, I've got a finger to remove and a scene to get outta."
"You got your com-jammer?"
"You think I'm an amateur?"
"Naw, Duo, you're just a cocky son of a bitch."
"Thanks but I gotta go."
"Check in when you're off L1."
"Will do, Cyph."
"Keep yourself outta trouble," Cypher said finally and Duo cut the call.
"Always try to but trouble always finds me," he said to himself.
Duo walked across the room to the body, his hands behind his head and looked at the body in front of him. This was the least fun part. He grabbed the hand and laid it out on the bed. It wasn't every job that wanted proof, sometimes they just wanted to know the person was dead but he'd known the Marshall family had wanted something tangible – a little bit of revenge for their beautiful girl. He got it. Vengeance and anger was powerful shit.
Cutting off a finger was no worse than a lot of things he'd done but it was still something he didn't enjoy doing. He made the cuts quickly and then thought about how to get it out of the room. He didn't intend putting a finger in his jeans pocket or leather jacket – instead he walked over to the empty whisky glass and put some ice from the ice bucket in before wrapping the whole thing up in a towel. It didn't look innocent but he didn't care. His com-jammer had cut the security cameras feed when he'd arrived at the Grand Royale. They now were showing nothing but snow and white noise and he knew the jammer was powerful enough to confuse the security company – at least for a little while.
He grabbed his leather jacket and was about to leave the room – not caring for any DNA evidence left or traces of him. Heero had made sure his DNA data was mysteriously corrupted every time and somehow Cypher managed to pay someone off somewhere to "lose" any relevant evidence of his kills but it didn't stop him from feeling unsettled as he looked at the body on the bed. Then his phone rang, the buzzing vibration in the back of his pocket insistent and annoying.
There were three people who had his number. One was Cypher who'd he'd just spoken to. The other was Heero and he sure as hell had no reason to speak to that asshole. The other, surprisingly even to him, was Trowa Barton. Out of all of the former Gundam pilots, Trowa was the one he knew least and until six months ago, he couldn't remember ever having a real conversation with. Quite simply, Duo never got Trowa Barton and assumed he never would. Until six months ago and a call had come through asking for some financial help for a lawyer. Understanding that Trowa couldn't go to Quatre and being pretty screwed up about his own large finances due to his less than legal occupation, Duo wired some cash after hearing the story about the nephew and a lengthy legal battle. After wiring the money, he didn't expect to hear from him again.
Until now. He glanced at his phone to see it was Trowa.
"Hey," he answered.
"Duo?"
"The one and only. What's up, Trowa?"
"I need help."
"Money? I can wire you –"
"Nabokov just tried to have Catherine killed and Eli kidnapped."
There was only one word that came out of Duo's mouth.
"Shit."
