Note: I don't own any part of GW, sadly, and make no financial profit from writing. As always, many, many thanks to the amazing wonderful Kaeru Shisho.

Anything but Perfect:

Chapter 2 / 2:

Zechs had offered to come in with him, even just to wait at the reception desk, but Duo had told him not to bother. It wasn't like he was a little kid going to the dentist, needing someone to hold his hand while he received the bad news that all his teeth were going to have to come out.

Walking out of Heero's office, he was regretting it; it would have been nice to see a friendly face waiting for him, instead of the stuck-up receptionist who quite clearly didn't think he was good enough to be in her snazzy bank.

'Duo, I'm so sorry,' Heero said uncertainly, following him out.

Duo shrugged. 'It's not your fault. Not like I wasn't expecting it. And thanks again for all your help. Really.'

'I haven't done very much. Just think about what I've said, all right? You still have options.'

'Yeah. Maybe, I guess. I'll see you, OK?' He ignored Heero's formally outstretched hand and pulled the other man into a quick half-hug, since they'd become friends over the past year, and he knew that Heero really did want to help, and looked about as wretched about it all as Duo himself felt.

Heero stiffened, just for a second, then hugged him back. 'Call me, all right? When you've had a chance to think about things.'

'Sure.' Duo gave the prissy receptionist a little wave, just to piss her off, and swung down the stairs, thoughts whirling. He was at street level before he even realised it, blinking as he walked out into the sunlight.

Huh. Imagine that.

He actually managed a faint smile, as he closed the door behind him with a decided click. One good thing on a hellish day. Another good thing: it was gorgeous out, as per usual in July. Blue skies all the way in Marbella; cobbled streets and dazzlingly white buildings wreathed in flowers.

What he'd first loved about Spain, from the very first, escaping from a seemingly endless winter on L2. A burnt-blue sky and vivid sprays of bougainvillea.

Instant depression-busting happiness.

They weren't working today.

Zechs was waiting for him at the little café near where he'd parked. He took one look at his face and started to rise, sinking back down at a wave of Duo's hand.

'Just stay there for a sec, will you? And focus on looking super-hot?'

'You don't think I always look super-hot?' Zechs drawled. 'I'm devastated.' He obeyed though, tilting his head to make the long swathe of shimmering gilt hair fall over his shoulder just so, and stretching out those infinity-and-beyond legs.

God.

It should be illegal to look like that; double-damn illegal to know just how to use it. Given the height and the hair, he pretty much always looked like a model, even when he was just slopping around at home in ancient sweatpants and a ratty old t-shirt covered in food stains. In his linen suit and Panama hat, you'd steal him. Anyone would. Even if they didn't know the way he cooked. Or what he was like in bed.

Duo had never met anyone so in tune with his own body, with the effect it had on other people. He'd thought it was arrogance, pure and simple, at the start, and yeah, there was a fairish bit of that involved, but a lot of it was just a very handsome man who was very comfortable with how he looked. Oh, and was highly aware of it. Arrogance really, when you got down to it.

Impossible not to admire, though, even on the worst possible day.

He gave a slightly reluctant grin. 'You do, yeah. But since pretty much everything else in my life is screwed up right now, I really need to know that I've got a sexy-as-fuck boyfriend.'

'Which you very definitely do,' Zechs smirked, and then stood up, giving him a light kiss on the cheek. 'What did Heero say?'

'What you said all along he was going to say. Can we not talk about it right now?'

'All right.' Because he was fundamentally a kind person, he forbore from saying I told you so, and instead took Duo's hand, curling his own around it. 'Come on. Let's go for a walk. I'll buy you an ice-cream, and then we'll discuss it.'

Duo decided to ignore the second part of that sentence, letting Zechs lead him out to the street. They didn't do the public hand-holding thing all that much, but it felt oddly good, given everything. 'I'm not a kid, Zee. You can't just give me sweeties and make everything better. I know you think that every problem can be solved with the right food, but it actually doesn't work like that.'

'Oh, hush, carino,' Zechs chided him lightly. 'Let me remind you that I make a very good living catering to people who believe that food can make the world a better place. And there's a new gelataria in Orange Square that I want to try.'

'OK, fine,' Duo muttered, knowing he was being a graceless, ungrateful idiot. 'If you're paying. Since you're the only one of us making any kind of decent living.'

'We'll sort it out, Duo,' Zechs said, giving him a quick, searching look, and a squeeze of his hand.

Duo squeezed back, and let Zechs make light conversation as they walked up the little cobbled street, not really bothering to listen. In the ice-cream place, he chose a lemon sorbet, as something sour enough to suit his mood, and stood back, letting Zechs discuss ingredients and flavours with the owner. His Spanish wasn't bad, after nearly fifteen months, and he had an especially extensive food-related vocabulary; he just wasn't in the mood for lengthy discussions of whether or not the fruit had been sourced locally.

It was an occupational hazard of dating a chef who also happened to be a total foodie; he was pretty much used to it now. Personal boyfriend-ly crises inevitably took second place to discovering a new organic olive oil supplier, or a local bee-keeper who was producing a new flavor of wild honey.

It was a bit of a relief at the moment, not needing to have The Talk anyway, even if it was only a momentary reprieve, because Zechs would want to know all the gory details eventually, probably sooner rather than later. In the end, he got a bit bored, and wandered outside, choosing one of the little tables on the terrace, and trying to focus on the taste of his sorbet which wasn't awful, suitably sour but a bit too synthetic, trying not to think about stuff. He was pretty good at that. He'd managed to keep his head firmly buried in the sand, more or less, for the past few months.

He'd picked a good table, nicely shaded under an orange tree, but with a clear view of Zechs inside the little shop.

Duo was OK-looking, apart from the lower left half of him; maybe more than that when he made the effort, but he couldn't hold a candle to his boyfriend. He'd meant to change for his meeting at the bank, but he'd forgotten to bring a change of clothes to the garage, and then he'd been running late and hadn't had time to go home. Not that it would have made a difference, he thought glumly, even if he had turned up in his one-and-only suit and a tie borrowed from Zechs, instead of his work clothes; an Angry Birds t-shirt that was getting to the faded and baggy stage, and ripped jeans.

Shit, he should have gone and changed. At least the snooty bank receptionist mightn't have looked at him quite so pityingly.

Shit, anyway. Fuck it. He still had Zechs, even if he was going to lose everything else that meant anything to him. Still had his dream guy.

'How's your sorbet?'

'It's OK. Not great.' He would have handed the little cardboard bowl over for Zechs to try, but he wouldn't eat something so strongly lemon-flavoured before going into work, claiming the intense taste would mess up his palate.

'Just OK? Not as good as the one we make in the restaurant?'

Duo grinned at him, and helped himself to another spoonful, making a performance out of it. 'Nah, nothing near as good as that one you brought home last week. Especially the way you served it. Very interesting presentation. Unusual mix of flavours too,' he added, trying to sound innocent and darting a quick glance across the table as he twirled his tongue around the little plastic spoon. Zechs was practically cross-eyed, watching him, and there was a very interesting faint wash of colour across his cheekbones that made Duo's grin widen; he didn't get to make Zechs blush very often, but he knew exactly what the blond was thinking. About the time Zechs had brought a little carton of thyme-infused citrus sorbet home for them to eat in bed; about it melting on Zechs' chest, and ending up in all sorts of interesting areas and needing to be licked clean. Fuck. He was suddenly hard, just thinking about it, and flushing himself.

Zechs' smile sprouted a slight predatory edge, and then he tipped his Panama back and flicked a stray lock of hair behind his ear. 'Ready to talk about it?'

'Nope.'

'Duo. Querido. Tell me.'

'You already know most of it,' Duo muttered. 'I'm out of cash; I seriously have about enough to pay this month's overheads and that's it. And I did ask Heero about raising a loan with my apartment as collateral but he said it was a pretty stupid idea. I feel kinda mean for making him feel bad.'

'It's his job.'

'Yeah.' Duo plopped his spoon into the cup; the sorbet was gone all gloopy, and hadn't been that great to begin with, over-synthetic and watery, and he didn't really want any more. 'OK, he said he couldn't technically refuse, if I really wanted to take out a mortgage, but he very seriously advised against it. That if business went on the way it's been going, I'd only end up losing the apartment as well.'

'I see. So, what's the plan?'

'No fucking plan,' Duo said sourly. 'I dunno. Go back to that bastard Dermail and beg for my job back. He'd maybe take me if I bent down fast enough.'

'You're not doing that.'

'No. I know. I'm not serious. I'm kind of out of plans. You know the worst bit? Having to go in to work tomorrow and tell Howie and Hils that they're both out of work.' It would be well nigh impossible for either of them to get anything else, since most decent businesses wouldn't want to hire mechanics with no formal qualifications, one of whom was getting on a bit and pretty damn cranky, and the other a very outspoken women who didn't believe in taking crap from anyone. The fact that they both had prison records wasn't much help either.

'Maybe we should start some sort of car-theft business,' he muttered. 'It's not like we don't have experience. Shit, between the three of us, we'd probably do pretty well. Better than we are at the moment, that's for sure.'

Zechs accorded him a perfunctory smile, but didn't look like he found it terribly funny. 'All right,' he said, suddenly crisp. 'Let's stop wallowing, shall we? And try to work this out.'

'I don't want you giving me money.' Duo could feel himself colour, just a little, as he spoke. It wasn't like he hadn't considered it as an option, once or twice, and rejected it immediately. He might be a total loser but he wasn't a charity case who'd go scrounging off his super-successful boyfriend.

'I wasn't planning to.' Zechs pulled out a Moleskine notebook and one of those Swiss pens that probably cost more than every piece of stationery Duo had ever used in his whole life. Actually, there was no probably about it if you took into account all the cheap, crappy biros and bits of paper torn off the edges of calendars and old receipts or invoices. 'You have a cash flow problem, yes?'

'Actually, the problem is more that I don't have any cash to flow,' Duo quipped weakly. 'But, yeah. I guess you could call it that. Plus, I'm a crap businessman.'

'Inexperienced, let's say,' Zechs said generously. 'Didn't Heero have any suggestions?'

'Sort of,' Duo muttered, digging the little plastic spoon out of the messily-melting sorbet, and twirling it between two fingers. 'He said my overheads are too high. I pay a crazy amount of rent for the garage, and I've got too many cars in stock.'

Zechs nudged his foot under the table. 'He's perfectly right, you know that.' He drew a little column of figures on a blank page.

Duo tried to focus on those long fingers, on what they could do, and not on what they were currently doing. Reducing his life's ambition, all his dreams, to a list of numbers on paper, before showing him how impossible this all was. It wasn't like they hadn't gone over the sums before, several times in the past few months, but every time he'd made a big sale just in the nick of time, enough to pay off his more pressing debts and keep the garage afloat for that little bit longer.

'All right.' Zechs stopped writing, finally, and reached over to touch Duo's hand. 'Your biggest expense by far is the rent on the garage, yes?'

Duo nodded. 'I can't do anything about that, though. I still have nearly twelve months on the lease.'

'You could sub-let. I've gone through your contract. You could find somewhere much cheaper.'

'I know. It's just – I've spent pretty much all of my life working in cruddy back street garages. I wanted something different. Something better.'

'You can find somewhere perfectly adequate for half the price you're paying, or less,' Zechs said levelly.

Duo glanced over at him, and then looked away from the sympathy in those blue eyes. Zechs knew, damnit, just how much the place meant to him, to have the shiny, swanky premises in an upmarket area of Marbella, just a block from the sea. 'I need somewhere classy,' he grouched. 'You know that. The sorts of clients I want, they won't go to some dive in a back alley. And I know what you're going to say, and no. Fuck, Zechs.'

'Duo, listen to me. You had a good business idea, a wonderful one, really, but so far it hasn't worked out quite as you hoped.'

'No, 'cause that fucker Dermail goes around badmouthing me to everyone who'll listen, just 'cause I wouldn't let him fuck me,' Duo snapped.

'I know, I know,' Zechs soothed. 'Be that as it may, tesoro, you have to face facts. You're an excellent mechanic; there's no reason why you can't run a maintenance service and keep the classic cars as a sideline.'

'Yeah, there is. I've been a greaser since I was thirteen, Zed. That's over ten years doing the shittiest jobs you can imagine, and sure, I was good at it, and it was good experience and all that, but I thought this time I was going to have something different. Something better. How'd you feel if the restaurant went belly-up tomorrow? Would you go and work in McDonalds'?'

'If I had nothing else, yes,' Zechs said evenly. 'Of course, my soul would probably die a little bit each day, but I'd do it until something else came up, and watch for every possible opportunity.'

Duo grinned, faint but there. 'You'd be cooking the fries in truffle oil. Yeah, I get you. At least, it'd keep jobs for Howie and Hilde. You're right. D'you never get tired of that?'

'Certainly not. There is one other thing.'

'Does it involve us going to the apartment and you shagging me 'til I don't care about any of this?'

'Well. Later, yes. It does involve your apartment.'

'No. No!' He could – just – envisage parting with the garage. Not the apartment. 'I'm not selling it.'

'No,' Zechs agreed, 'but you could let it also. That would be a guaranteed income for you, irrespective of how the garage does. And you'd have no problem finding a tenant, given the location.'

'I guess.' It hurt, though, imagining some total strangers living in his home. The first place he'd ever owned. His dream apartment with a wrap-around terrace overlooking the sea, set in gardens of citrus trees and hibiscus and roses. 'Where would I live, though? If I still needed to pay rent, it mightn't be worth it.'

'You'd move in with me,' Zechs said, as matter of fact as if he was talking about their dinner plans. More, probably, since he always got super-enthusiastic when food was involved.

'You think we're ready for that?'

'We won't know unless we try. It's been over a year.'

'Yeah, and we've come close to breaking up how many times?'

'And never actually have,' Zechs noted. 'You'll be under a considerable obligation to me if you're living in my house. Maybe you'll be slightly less argumentative. A little more accommodating even.'

'Dream on, Merquise,' Duo scoffed. ' Not gonna happen.'

'I never for a second thought it would.'

'What if we actually broke up for real? Worst case scenario?'

'Then we come to some agreement. I wouldn't exactly throw you out on the street. I have a fairly big house; we could organize our schedules so we hardly saw each other. We'd work something out until you found something else.'

Duo swallowed; it wasn't like they hadn't discussed it, once or twice. Wasn't like they spent most of their free time together, anyway. But he loved his apartment; loved having his own space, and it hurt, having to think about giving it up.

'Yeah,' he said finally. 'I'll think about it.' It was a pretty crappy reaction to your boyfriend asking you to move in, all things considered. 'Sorry,' he added. 'Zee, that's really nice of you. And I will think about it. It's just...'

'I can imagine,' Zechs said softly. 'Duo, you don't have to decide anything straightaway. Give yourself a little time, yes? And stop being so hard on yourself.'

'Yeah,' Duo repeated, nodding at Zechs' almost empty water glass. 'Finished? You wanna go?'

'I should, yes. Are you going back to the garage?'

Duo shook his head, resolute. Hilde and Howie knew about the meeting; they'd have all kinds of questions, and he wasn't ready for that. 'I don't think so; I said I mightn't be back. Any chance I can convince you to play hooky? Come to the beach with me? We can take a walk, go for a swim, and then find a nice deserted sand-dune and get sand in all sorts of interesting places.'

Zechs did look tempted, but he shook his head. 'I can't, carino, you know that. Not today. But I'll try to finish early.'

'OK, yeah. Give me a shout when you're done. You can come over.'

'You're going back to your apartment then?'

Duo shrugged, standing up, and shoving his chair back with a tad more force than he'd actually intended. 'Might as well, yeah. Might as well make the most of it while it's still mine,' he added bitchily, and then felt like kicking himself up the ass. 'Sorry, seriously. Again. I'm being a jerk.'

'You're having a very bad day,' Zechs said kindly, standing up himself and taking Duo into his arms.

'Still not fair taking it out on you,' Duo mumbled, letting himself be pulled even closer. Marbella was pretty cosmopolitan, and it wasn't like you didn't see same sex couples being fairly affectionate in public, but they'd always kept things fairly low key, although he supposed the shady corner of a quiet terrace wasn't really all that public. It felt damn good, though. It always did, Zechs holding him like that.

'Oh. Hey. One cool thing did happen at the bank. I walked down those two flights of stairs from Heero's office without even noticing them.'

Zechs smiled. 'A very cool thing, then. You've done it at home a few times lately as well. I wasn't sure if you realised.'

'Not really. Guess I'm not very observant. I just thought – I didn't think I was ever going to get properly better.' He was smiling back, suddenly, and then Zechs kissed him. 'Wow. You totally sure you can't take the afternoon off?'

'Don't tempt me,' Zechs muttered, looking incredibly tempted. 'Duo, corazon, you know...'

'Yeah, I know. I get it. Just get away as soon as you can, yeah? And um. I might go back to your place. Is that OK?'

'Of course, mi Lucero.' He touched Duo's cheek, very gently. 'Eat something. Have a swim. Lie in the sun for a bit. I'll be home as soon as I can, I promise.'

'OK.' Duo managed a bit of a smile; it wasn't much, but fuck, it was hard not to smile at Zechs, looking at him like that, and calling him that name. Duo sometimes said babe, or played around with variants of his boyfriend's name, but Zechs had a tonne of Spanish pet-names he used, and that particular one always made Duo melt.

Mi Lucero. My bright star.

He gave Zechs another quick kiss on the mouth. Well, he'd meant it to be quick. 'Thanks, Zizi. Really. Gracias. And sorry I'm being a total ass about all this. I'll see you soon, OK?'

He waved Zechs off, brought their little tray back inside, and headed to where he'd left his car. A shame they hadn't been able to spend the afternoon together, but he'd known when he'd suggested it that it was almost certainly a non-starter. There were times when he could coax Zechs into taking a few hours, or even a whole day, off, but he had a new pastry chef starting that day, and he'd want to be there.

That was the difference between them, he supposed. One of the differences. They were both massively enthusiastic about their jobs, both perfectionists in their own ways, and they totally got that about the other.

Duo loved what he did, taking some poor, neglected car and restoring her to the beauty she'd once been, and sure, he wanted to make a success of the garage; to make a half-way decent living being his own boss and doing something he loved, but he didn't have any ambitions to be the best mechanic in the world or feature in some upmarket classic car magazine or anything like that. He just wasn't driven the way Zechs was, always focused on winning another award, or creating a perfect dish, or getting a glowing write-up in some glossy, gourmet magazine. Always wanting to show his parents what a success he was making of his life, Duo sort of thought sometimes, even if it wasn't the career they'd wanted for him.

Or maybe it was just that he was an ambitious person, full stop.

In the car, he turned the radio on full-blast and focused on thinking, very hard, about the Aston Martin he'd bought yesterday, paying way too much because it had been love at first sight, and he'd wanted to rescue her from the stupid guy who'd let her fall into such a fucking bad state because he couldn't be bothered to fork out for a little basic maintenance, and he'd known exactly what needed to be done to bring her back to her former glory.

At the turning he took to go home, his own apartment, he did hesitate for a second, until the car behind flashed its lights at him, and he moved on to Zechs' tower. Home now, probably, for real. At least there, he'd be able to go for a swim, and there'd be way more food.

In the kitchen, he assembled the makings of a sandwich, with Zechs' little cat weaving between his legs as he worked, scolding him in penetrating Siamese wails; setting out wafter-thin slices of Iberian ham; a couple of difference cheeses, cherry tomatoes, a slice of rye bread, and a dollop of mustard. That actually made him grin, reaching for little jar they'd bought a local farmers' market the week before. Before Zechs, he might conceivably have had mustard in his kitchen, but it would have been a little foil sachet he'd filched from some fast food place. He'd never have thought for a second about ingredients or provenance. Hell, back then he hadn't even realised what the stuff even was, that it came from an actual plant rather than appearing fully-formed as bright yellow goo.

In the end, he couldn't be bothered actually making up the sandwich. Actually, he wasn't all that hungry, and most of the food would end up being given to the cat, but just standing in the kitchen, and filling his plate gave him something mechanical to do, grounding him slightly. He cleaned after himself, because he and Zechs had had the non-cleaning-up argument several times, and shit, if he did move in properly, they'd have to compromise, just a little bit, on that. He just brought the plate of food outside to pick at, with Mia resolutely trying to trip him up at every step, piercing blue eyes glaring at him. A deconstructed sandwich, Zechs would call it. He'd poured himself a tall glass of fresh orange juice as well, having resolutely ignored the half-full bottle of wine in the fridge. He let himself have an occasional drink in the evening with Zechs, or if they were out with other people, but never when he was alone.

He'd fallen down that particular hole for a few months on L2, after he'd got out of hospital. He'd been in pretty much continuous pain, and not sure whether or not he'd ever get the full use of his leg back, and Marco had bailed on him, not wanting to waste his precious time taking care of his scarred, crippled boyfriend.

A couple of months of that, and then he'd dragged himself up from the gutter, literally enough. He'd downloaded pictures of Marbella and stuck them on his bedroom walls, and researched prospective garage premises and apartments, and started learning Spanish from an app on his phone. He'd stopped drinking and gone back to physical therapy and started the other kind of therapy, on his physio's advice, and resolved that he'd never again end up unconscious in a club bathroom with half his clothes off and his ass aching and only a blurred memory of what had actually happened.

He'd needed that wake up call, he thought sometimes; needed to be reminded that even his life was shit, he still wasn't anywhere near ready to give up on it. So, he'd spent the weeks waiting for his blood test results immersing himself in the thought of Spain, of how to make it a reality.

And he'd made it here, and met Zechs, on the crappiest, most awful night, so bad that he still didn't much like thinking about it. He'd only been in Spain a few days at that point, and was still jet-lagged, and his leg was still in knots from the long, painfully cramped shuttle ride, but Dermail had asked him out to dinner, and he hadn't wanted to refuse. The guy was his safety net, pretty much. Starting a fancy-shmancy upmarket business in a country – on a planet – where he didn't know anyone, was essentially a crazy gamble, but he'd a friend on L2, someone he'd known since they were in juvie together, who knew someone in Spain, who knew someone else who worked for some rich guy who liked collecting classic cars and was looking for a reliable mechanic to keep on retainer. The actual job would probably only take a few hours a week, but it would be a guaranteed income, and more important, Dermail knew people, and he'd maybe recommend Duo to his friends.

That had been the idea, and yeah, he'd thought the guy asking his new mechanic out for a meal at some posh restaurant was maybe a bit over the top, and there'd been alarm bells ringing at the start, but they'd talked about cars, full stop. He hadn't taken to Dermail much, but then it wasn't like he was looking for a new best buddy or something. So he'd let the guy brag about his cars, and how much they'd all cost, and nodded, and looked impressed in the right places and tried not to be too obvious about yawning or checking the time every few minutes.

After the meal, Dermail had offered to drive him home, saying it was on his way, and the alarm bells had started up again, more strident than before, when he'd brushed off Duo saying he could easily take a taxi. Over a year later, Duo thought that, just maybe, he could have handled things a bit better. He could have pleaded tiredness and jet lag as an excuse not to take a short walk to look at the moonlight over the sea when Dermail had pulled in by the side of the road, and he could maybe have been a little bit more diplomatic and polite about turning the guy down. He could maybe have found some graceful way of saying no instead of the whole shit storm that had actually happened.

Fuck it, though. Dermail was an utter bastard, acting like Duo was his personal property to grope and then spewing abuse at him, he should be grateful that a man like him was interested in someone like Duo, and that it wasn't as if a cripple from the slums of L2 would ever get any better offers.

Fuck, really. He'd stormed off, leaving Duo alone in the middle of nowhere, with his leg aching the way it sometimes did when he overdid things, when he almost wished it had been amputated after all, and watching his cherished, iridescent dream becoming a nightmare.

Then there'd been Zechs, turning up and trying to act like some sort of bloody knight rescuing the damsel in distress, and Duoe'd treated him like shit, just because he was there, and he'd tried to help. He hadn't believed for one second that anyone would just try to help some random stranger without wanting something in return because that wasn't how the universe, Duo's universe, worked.

Except – over a year later, it sort of did. Sometimes, anyway.

He could move in here, yeah, and it would be perfect and, to be honest, he more or less half-lived there anyway. Zechs did stay at his place sometimes, but he didn't like leaving Mia alone, and here they had a lot more privacy, with no near neighbours who could look over the balcony; no screaming kids on holiday or bored grannies who wanted to gossip, and it was closer to where they both worked.

It wasn't his, though. Wasn't the first place he'd ever lived in that wasn't some sort of cheap dosshouse or squat or a fucking sheet of cardboard under a bridge.

'Fuck.' He folded a curl of ham into a square and dipped it into his splodge of mustard, and laughed at himself. Look at him now. Totally corrupted by Zechs food-wise; eating food from some artisan supplier who charged insane prices. A long way from scrounging food out of trash cans.

He ate a tomato, liking the sweetness, and stood up abruptly. Right. Time to stop wallowing, the way Zechs had said. He'd spent months twisting himself into tangled knots to avoid facing facts. Enough. He had so much more than he'd ever had in his whole life. He had Zechs, and friends, and his own business. OK, he'd have to downscale a bit, but it'd still be his. Maybe he would have to let his apartment for a bit, but that would still be his too.

And in the meantime, he'd get to live here, which wasn't so dusty by any standards. A Spanish tower by the sea with its own live-in award-winning chef / sex god. Not like he actually had a damn thing in the world to complain about.

He hadn't believed it at first, that the one night they'd spent together would really go anywhere. OK, strictly speaking, the one night, and the next day, and the following night as well. Yeah, there'd been epic bouts of stellar sex, and they'd got on surprisingly well outside the bedroom, but he hadn't really thought it would develop into anything. Hadn't been sure he'd wanted it to, being totally honest. He was new in Spain, and a one-night stand had been fine; a bit of a holiday fling, but that was it.

He hadn't been with anyone for over six months at that point; and Zechs had been the most gorgeous guy he'd ever seen, and he'd just thought why the hell not? A little welcome-to-Spain treat with someone he'd never see again.

He hadn't wanted anything more. Hadn't been remotely ready for it, not with setting up the garage and settling into a strange country, and still getting over that asshole on L2. It had somehow settled into something more, because Zechs was damn persistent, in bed and out of it, and there'd been more sex – way more sex – and the best food he'd ever eaten, and a few day trips around the area, and then he'd met Zechs' cat, and his friends, and his sister. His parents, just the once, which had been more than enough, and made sense of some pieces of the Zechs puzzle, like how someone could combine that level of arrogance with those little pockets of insecurity. They'd only been together for a couple of months at that point, and he'd made jokes about meeting the parents but secretly he'd been a bit nervous, wondering what the aristocratic Merquises would think of their only son shacked up with a mechanic from L2 who had no real education or fancy family background; who'd been in and out of juvie since he'd been a kid, and still couldn't walk without a bit of a limp, even a year after his accident.

He needn't have worried, as it turned out. They'd been perfectly pleasant to him, in that rather detached way that rich people had, but they'd spent most of the six course meal gushing about Relena's new ambassadorial appointment, and how happy they were that at least one of their children had decided to pursue a meaningful career. After they'd left, claiming they had an early morning flight the next day, and without once asking their son about his restaurant or any other fucking thing about his life, Zechs had called for another bottle of wine, and drunk most of it himself. Duo'd been the one to drive them home, and listen to Zechs talk about them, the first time he'd really opened up about his family, although there'd d been hints enough.

He'd been the one to look after his boyfriend that night, for the first time, taking him to bed and making him forget the whole thing, realising Zechs wasn't quite as unassailably confident as he seemed.

Then, there'd been those few months where he'd just been waiting for the revelation. There was no way that someone who looked like Zechs; who fucked the way he did, for God's sake, would be running around loose unless there was something seriously wrong with him. He was bound to be a serial killer who used up his victims' bodies in the restaurant, or had a secret sex dungeon, or some shit like that. And Duo was hopeless at picking people to be with. Marco'd only been the tip of the iceberg, really, compared to some of them, so he didn't have a whole lot of faith in his own judgement.

Zechs wasn't a serial killer and he didn't mind an occasional little bit of recreational bondage but he didn't have a room dedicated to it. He'd never tried to hit Duo or cheated on him; never stolen from him or tried to involve him in anything illegal. If you thought about, his standards were pretty low, really.

He just seemed to be a genuinely decent person, who genuinely enjoyed being with Duo, in bed and out of it, and that had made the whole thing even scarier.

In his experience, the only reason the universe ever gave Duo Maxwell anything half-way decent was so it could wait 'til he got attached, and then snatch it away at the worst possible moment.

He'd pretty much had his dream job on L2. Gone.

He'd been living with a guy that he'd kinda thought he maybe was in love with. Yeah. So much for his judgement of people. Marco had bailed straight after the accident, and came crawling back months later, after Duo had got his settlement, claiming he just hadn't been able to stay and watch him in so much pain, that he'd loved him too much.

Zechs, though. He wasn't as damn perfect as he thought he was, but he occasionally came close. He was obsessed with his job, and fucking anal about his kitchen, and they'd had a couple of massive rows about Duo putting something in the wrong drawer, or not closing a jar or bottle properly. He was arrogant as fuck, and it would literally kill him to admit he'd ever been wrong about anything, and he treated Duo like some sort of damsel in distress, and nine times out of ten it drove him insane, but just occasionally he sort of liked it.

So, yeah. It wasn't like moving in here would be the worst thing in the universe. Not by a long shot. He was so damn lucky, really, and didn't appreciate it nearly enough. So.

'No more damned pity parties, Maxwell,' he said firmly, setting down his plate for Mia, who hunched herself around it and hissed at him for taking so long. Duo grinned. 'You are so like him, you know, expecting everyone in the universe to bend over backwards for you. I guess it's all my fault, letting you boss me around.'

He was grinning as he lay back on the recliner, since there were definite times when he didn't really mind Zechs bossing him around, in bed or out of it. Really, he was being an idiot even for thinking about objecting to coming to live in this amazing place. Seriously, only a total moron would think of turning down the chance to live in a place like this, even without the added inducement of the owner. The very considerable inducement. Damn. Right. Enough flailing about in self-pity. He was going to go for a quick swim and then he was going to sort stuff out.

He stood up and stripped off, and then grinned at a sudden thought and reached for his phone to take a selfie. He thought of writing something sexy or sappy to go with the photo, but it spoke for itself really. Zechs would get the message clearly enough to come home asap, just in case he'd got distracted talking choux pastry or millefeuilles with his new dessert chef.

He slathered on sun-screen, having forgotten just the once and seriously suffered for it, and dived in. He swam one brisk length; the water wasn't cold, but it was definitely chillier than the warm air outside, and then turned and floated, looking up at the sky. He'd never tried naked swimming before Zechs, but he loved it, loved the lap of the water around his body.

He swam laps every morning in the pool at his apartment, as part of his physical therapy for his leg, but early enough that there usually wasn't anyone else around. Most of the permanent residents knew him by now and didn't give him a second glance, but there were always people visiting and kids stared at his leg and asked questions, and adults didn't stare, so pointedly that it was just as damn obvious. At least if he lived here, he could use the pool whenever he wanted. Naked, whenever he wanted.

He didn't stay in that long; it was a little bit boring alone, and he had stuff to do. He towelled himself off quickly and settled back on the recliner, Mia condescending to jump up beside him, and took out his phone again. No sexy pictures this time, but business. He grinned at the short message Zechs had sent, telling him that he wasn't to get dressed under any circumstances, and then pulled up a real estate website.

Twenty minutes later, he closed his eyes, put the phone down, and lay back, feeling the heat as an almost tangible thing, pressing down on him, imagining all the tiny sunbeam particles seeping through his skin, liquid golden sparkles shimmering into his bloodstream, coursing around his body. His therapist had shown him all kinds of visualisation techniques, and he'd initially thought it was all stupid, new age crap, but sometimes they did work.

This time, it did.

Now he'd stopped flailing around about how the world sucked, he could acknowledge that, just maybe, things weren't really all that bad. He'd just spent the past few months with his head up his ass, because that was how he dealt with stuff sometimes, and now he had to damn well face reality, and maybe it all would work out, and if it didn't, he'd find something else. He had someone, and a few good friends, and he was damn good at what he did. He was never going to be out of a job, even if it mightn't be the perfect one that he'd dreamed of.

Duo blinked into full wakefulness, realising he had the cat curled against his side – it had been the prick of her claws that had woken him – and that Zechs was sitting on the other chair, reading.

'Hey. Time is it?'

'Almost five. I've only just got back.'

'You should've woken me.'

'I was going to, and then I started reading an article about honey production in Slovenia.'

Duo grinned. Zechs was interested in pretty much every food in the universe, but he was truly obsessed with honey. In the last year, he'd seen more beehives than he'd ever guessed even existed.

'How are you, carino?'

Duo opened his mouth to say that of course he was fine, not a bother on him; that he'd flailed around in his pathetic little pity party for long enough, and given himself a stern telling off and sorted everything out. Nothing came out. Just a sad little shake of his head.

'Oh, Duo,' Zechs said it with so much understanding that somehow he catapulted out of his chair and ended up in Zechs' lap, with his boyfriend's arms wrapped around him.

He didn't cry because he never did, purely on principle. But he did press his face into Zechs' shoulder, and maybe gulped a bit to himself, and let himself just wallow in the feel of being held, of half-listening to Zechs' murmured endearments in three languages.

''M, sorry,' he said finally, emerging from the folds of Zechs' shirt, and the feel of him, all solid and warm and steady heartbeats. Steadying him like nothing else in the universe.

'What on earth for?' Zechs asked. 'Trusting me to help you feel better after a terrible day. You don't have to be sorry for that.'

'That, yeah, that and being a total loser.'

'You're nothing of the sort.'

'Zee, don't. I'm bloody bankrupt, I hardly have enough to pay Howie and Hilde at the end of the month; I'm gonna have to give up the garage. You and Quat and Heero've been trying to tell me this for freaking months, and I wouldn't listen because I wanted to pretend there'd be a miracle and it'd all work out. How exactly is that not being a damn failure?'

'What you are doing,' Zechs said crisply, 'is altering your core business strategy to cater for current market forces. Nothing more. And there is nothing about that that's remotely connected to being a failure. It's astute business policy.'

Duo gave him a faint, reluctant grin. 'Write that down for me, will you? And yeah, I know what you mean. I just feel... I've messed everything up. And it's dumb, but I do feel a loser, and I'm not sure if you can get that.'

'You are joking, querido, yes? I've told you what my first couple of years were like at the restaurant, don't you remember? That sommelier whom I thought was a friend, and who robbed me blind for months? The cleaner who unplugged all the fridges before he left because he wanted to save power and ruined everything? Dear God, I've even told you about the time when I tried asking my parents for a short-term loan. Let me see; what else? I slept with my wine merchant a couple of times because I couldn't afford to pay him; did I ever tell you that? I spent a month sleeping on the restaurant floor because I couldn't afford to pay my rent and pay the staff. But I survived, and the business took off, and that will happen for you.

'Will it?'

Zechs kissed him. 'It will, yes. I promise.'

'Maybe,' Duo allowed. 'Listen. So, I've been thinking about stuff all afternoon.'

'Mm, I thought you might have,' Zechs said levelly. 'And?'

'And.' Duo took a deep breath. 'Pretty much everything you said, it was true. I get that. But, at the same time, the garage, all of it, it's my dream. I'm not gonna give the whole thing up. I can't, or I'll just end up where I started. So – I try to come up with some sort of compromise.'

Zechs nodded. 'Go on.'

'I do spend way too much on overheads. I'm gonna start looking for new premises on Monday. I already made a few appointments, actually. You can maybe come with me in the morning, if you're free. They all look pretty nice, just not as glitzy as where I am now, but they are way cheaper. And I was thinking about your idea of the maintenance service; I can start that, but I'll try to keep it for mostly classic cars. I don't just want to be some mechanic who does services and changes the oil for people. That's what I've been doing for pretty much my whole life. And another thing.' He swallowed, looking down at the table, because this was the one thing he'd always been resolved not to do; not to use his friends' connections to drum up business. 'I'm gonna let you and Quatre introduce me to some people. I don't think I'm making such a good job of doing this alone.'

He was making a crappy job of it actually. And he could blame Dermail – the fucking bastard – 'til he was blue in the face, but at the end of the day, he was only one of the factors.

'Duo, look at it like this,' Zechs cupped one hand around Duo's chin and tilted his face up to look at him. 'If you had customers in the garage asking you to recommend a restaurant, would you tell them about La Despenza?'

'Not the same.'

'It's exactly the same. Personal recommendations are everything. And I just may be able to help there.' He took out his phone, flicked a few buttons and handed it over.

'Wow.' Duo took in the image on screen; even glaring at whoever was taking the photo, the Chinese guy was seriously hot. Like Vindaloo / chili pepper hot. Zechs had done that to him, got him into the habit of comparing everything to food. 'Who's that?'

'That is Professor Chang, of the University of Barcelona. He just happens to be married to be married to one of the wealthiest men in Spain, whose aim in life is to make his husband happy.'

'Don't blame him,' Duo muttered. 'And – let me guess, this professor guy is into cars?'

'The professor guy is into cars,' Zechs confirmed. 'And it happens to be his birthday next month. And they happen to have booked the restaurant for the party. They'll be calling in over the next few days to confirm the menu; I could just happen to mention my boyfriend's business. Yes?'

Duo nodded. 'Yes. Please. New resolution. I need to start making contacts, right? Anyway, other new resolution. This is one of the things I was thinking about this afternoon. I'm going to give the garage six months, twelve at most. If I can't make a go of it in that time, maybe it's just not meant to be.'

'But, Duo...'

'No, stop. I've thought about this. Just 'cause I have this dream, it doesn't mean it's gonna happen. Maybe I need to do some other stuff, and get experience, make contacts, and come back to it. I don't want to spend years doing something that's not working out. I've kinda...I've pretty much been fixated on this one thing, ever since the accident. But that doesn't mean there's nothing else for me.'

'For us,' Zechs corrected, smiling in that way that made every one of Duo's organs and intestines and other inside parts turn to honey-flavoured goo.

'Us, yeah. Absolutely.' He leaned into Zechs' touch, just a little more. 'Zed, listen. The other thing, yeah. I do want us to live together. I mean, c'mon, I pretty much live here most of the time anyway. But I don't want to move in officially 'til it's something we both really want, not 'cause I'm broke and I need to save money. I love you, honestly, but I don't think I'm ready for the whole full-time sharing yet. I don't honestly think either of us is. But I want us to talk about it, seriously, in a while. I'm talking a few months, when I'm a bit more sorted about what I'm doing. Is...that OK?'

'Perfect, always. One condition.'

'Maybe.'

'Non-negotiable. You talk to me about the business. You let me help, even if it's just going over hte figures with you, or talking to me before you buy some insanely expensive car that you have no buyer for and that will cost another fortune to restore. Yes?'

Duo nodded.

'Good, Now, I have something for you.'

'Mm, yeah,' Duo said appreciatively, pressing against him. 'I can feel it.'

'That, yes. Always. Later. But I have two other things first. Here's a little snack. Close your eyes.'

'No.' Zechs had this thing that to appreciate the taste of something properly, you had to shut off the other senses. 'I don't trust you to do that any more. Not after you fed me that snail.'

'You liked it before you knew what it was.'

'Yeah, and then you told me and I threw up on your shoes,' Duo retorted. 'You really want that to happen again?'

'Hm. Point taken. It's just goat's cheese, honestly. The new pasty chef's parents have a small farm in the mountains and make their own products; she brought in some things for me to try.' He bent down a took a small paper-wrapped package out of his bag, unwrapping it reverentially. 'Just wait. This is the most amazing thing; I still can't work out the exact blend of herbs it's been infused with. It's just – stunning, truly. I've ordered some for next week, but I can't work out exactly what I'm going to do with them.' He lifted the little circle of cheese to his nose, and inhaled, looking like he'd found the cheese-scented gates to paradise. 'Rosemary, obviously, but there's something else. Something more exotic, just a hint but it's there, definitely. It's not quite like cumin but..' His voice trailed off as he frowned, breaking off a little piece and tasting it.

'You want me to leave you alone with your new squeeze?' Duo teased him. 'Have a bit of quality time together? Seriously, I dunno if it's funny or sad that if you ever cheated on me, it'd be with a dairy product.'

'Not necessarily,' Zechs objected. 'It could be with a particularly amazing dessert either.' He considered for a moment. 'No, actually, on second thoughts, that would be a threesome. Here, try a little.'

'Oh, wow,' Duo enthused. 'Yeah, OK, I think maybe I would leave you for this, actually. Can we finish it for dinner?'

'For dessert, yes. For dinner, I am going to make you a a Duo-burger,'

'Seriously? You don't have to; we can just do something quick.'

The Duo-burger, invented by Zechs for their six-month anniversary, was the most delicious burger in the entire universe. Zechs' mission to create the perfect burger had been a running joke between them since their first night together, when Duo had said he preferred fast food to gourmet. There had been plenty of experimental versions over the months, with kobe beef and spiced Moroccan lamb and venison, but the finalised version had ended up being made out of the some of the foods Zechs had introduced him to and that he'd adored; the burger itself was made out of roast duck confit, finely minced, because forget fucking burgers, roast duck was the best thing ever, topped with slivers of smoked duck breast, and sauteed mushrooms, and slices of peach marinated in cognac.

He'd first made it at home for Duo as a private celebration, but he'd also added it to the menu as an occasional special, and the burger itself, and the story about the chef who'd created it for his boyfriend, had gone viral all over social media, and been featured in a couple of foodie magazines, and even won an award.

Zechs laughed. 'I prepared most of it at the restaurant. It won't take that long to get it ready. We have time for a little appetiser, perhaps?'

'Yeah?' Duo grinned back. 'What were you thinking of? More of that yummy cheese? Or something a little bit different?'

'Hmm.' Zechs trailed one finger down Duo's bare arm. 'Possibly something a little different. Just to work up an appetite.'