Chapter 8 – All Out Tempest:
When Heero walked into his office, at half past two on Thursday, Trowa was moderately proud of how quickly he suppressed his first instinct of jumping out the window. Heero didn't look particularly murderous though, or at least he was just wearing his usual default expression of doom, so Trowa just saved the document he'd been working on and leaned back in his chair.
'Hey. You know, I changed my door code two days ago. To try to stop people just swanning in whenever they like.'
A shadow of a smile skittered across Heero's face, gone immediately. 'You always use combinations a child could break. What's wrong with Duo and Wufei?'
Not at all the opening line he'd expected. 'They had a row, I think. They both said some stupid stuff. I'd leave them to sort it out.'
Heero sighed, looking aggrieved. He was just like Quatre sometimes; a bloody determined meddler who believed the universe couldn't turn without his assistance. Trowa firmly believed that most things sorted themselves out quite adequately without outside interference.
'They won't tell me anything about it. Duo says it's none of my business,' he said forlornly, jerking his chair a little closer to Trowa's desk, so he could rest his right foot on the filing cabinet, the way he always did. The last time he'd been in here, a few weeks ago, before all of this had happened, they'd talked about taking a trip together. Norway or Switzerland, maybe, to get the tail-end of the ski season, and do some climbing.
'They'll work it out. Wait, what? You talked to Duo? When? Why?'
'A couple of days ago, I think. Why shouldn't I talk to him? We live together.'
Duo hadn't mentioned it; hadn't mentioned seeing Heero at all. Then again, he hadn't said much at all over the last couple of days. Just yelled a lot. 'He moved out, Heero. Didn't you notice?'
'He's hardly moved out. He's staying at Wufei's. He'll come home when he feels he's made his point. '
'Heero. Get real. He moved out. He's moved all his stuff out. You do know about him and me, right?'
Heero shrugged. 'Yes, I'm sorry about that. He shouldn't have involved you.'
'He didn't make me do anything. And what are you sorry for?'
'He does this, Trowa. You know that. Normally, he just picks up some stranger. He shouldn't have pulled you into this. That wasn't fair. You're our friend; it's going to complicate everything when he comes back to me.'
'He's told you he's going to do that, has he?'
'Hn.. Of course he will. He always does.'
Damn, it wasn't even arrogance, that clear, cold certainty, like a man stating an immutable law of physics.
This time, Trowa actually believed it might be true.
Heero stayed for a few more minutes. He obviously felt the Duo-subject was closed, but he asked Trowa about how he was finding a new software package, and a few other work things, and suggested going for dinner some night, and then drifted off.
Trowa looked unseeingly at his monitor for a few minutes and then closed it down. He had nothing he couldn't do at home, and he needed to get out of the office.
After the Quatre-break-up conversation, after the storm, he'd really thought they'd turned some sort of corner, that he'd maybe convinced Duo of something. And then he'd had three days of Duo behaving like a bratty, cranky toddler before taking off to Berlin to attend some conference he'd never mentioned before.
He'd tried to ignore it at first, because it was what Duo did. Testing limits, pushing, probing for weaknesses. He even kind of got why. The night of the thunderstorm, they'd definitely pushed the barriers out. The sex; the conversation afterward. He'd got why Duo might be feeling a bit raw.
He just hadn't quite expected to wake up the next morning and find that Duo had turned into the boyfriend from hell.
Since Quatre, he's actually started to enjoy living alone, appreciating the space and the silence. Duo had stayed over before, and Trowa had loved every minute of it. Duo had been the perfect guest; cooking, being scrupulously careful to clean up after himself; adapting himself to Trowa's routine.
That all changes overnight. On Tuesday morning, there's blaring music in the kitchen, and a stack of dripping towels on the bathroom floor, and strands of Duo's hair coiling in the plughole.
He gets it; Duo's testing the limits because it's what Duo does. He'll get over it.
Trowa ignores it all, gritting his teeth and sliding around the Duo-generated chaos. He ignores, too, Duo blatantly flirting with the new paralegal in front of him at work, the poor guy looking alternately enraptured and terrified. When they get home, he drags Duo upstairs and does his best to screw the attitude out of him, until he has Duo melting into the sheets and moaning brokenly.
It doesn't last. The next morning, Duo pretty much trashes the kitchen, looking for an egg whisk, or so he claims, quite unrepentantly. Trowa's seriously, genuinely tempted to throw him out at that point, but he has a pretty clear idea that, if he does, Duo will ricochet back to Heero, just to spite the pair of them.
So he bites his tongue halfway off, and just nods and manages to choke down the eggs, which are somehow crunchy and slimy-raw at the same time. He even thanks Duo for cooking. Duo gives him a disbelieving stare and then bursts out laughing and gives Trowa one hell of a post-breakfast blow-job.
The odd thing is, this is what he'd imagined being with Duo would be like; a runaway roller coaster on acid. The way he is with Heero. It's nothing like they've had for the past couple of weeks. He can't really imagine this version of Duo watching the sunset with him, or spending hours painstakingly stripping gilt paint from the mirror he'd made Trowa buy, or browsing in a second-hand bookshop.
He gets the exuberant version for the next twenty-four hours. There's a barrage of utterly filthy texts during the day, all at the most inopportune times, and Duo's done something to his 'phone so he can't put it on silent. Some of them have photos attached. Very explicit photos. There's a make-out session in the hallway outside his office, which he might appreciate more if he's not fairly sure that Duo hasn't picked the precise time when Heero is walking down the corridor. Heero doesn't pay any attention, although a few of their colleagues make a dash for cover. Apparently, some guy in HR is running a book on Trowa's life expectancy, now that Heero's back.
Certainly, Duo seems more interested in looking over his shoulder, than in what his tongue is doing in Trowa's mouth.
Wednesday is the killer. As far as Trowa can tell, Duo wakes up pissed and it just gets worse during the day. Trowa gets yelled at for not having the precise brand of coffee he likes; for daring to hold a door open for him as they go into the Preventers building; for getting him a cherry Danish in the canteen at break when he knows that Duo only likes raisin or apricot, and that Duo is perfectly capable of buying his own pastries in any case..
By the time they're starting for home, he's giving Heero credit for more patience than he'd ever suspected. Fuck, if he wants Duo, he's welcome to him. No wonder he's not making any effort to get him back. Probably over the moon to get rid of him and have a bit of peace.
Then Duo sort-of apologises in the car, claiming he's had a stressful day at work, and insists on cooking and cleaning up after. It's a roller coaster really, and he's not sure if he can put up with it for that much longer. Heero seemed to enjoy their ridiculous arguments; Trowa's not into that. Why be with someone if all you do is fight?
Duo's all over him, though, before they even get to bed; when they do make it upstairs, Trowa takes his sweet time getting him ready, and gets yelled at for his pains.
'I'm not fucking Quat. Just get on with it.'
Trowa stils his fingers. 'I'm glad to know you're not fucking him. That would really complicate things.'
'Oh, very damn funny,' Duo growls, pushing back on his hand. 'Just get the hell on with it, would you?'
'I don't think so,' Trowa breathes. 'I'm enjoying this. What's the rush?'
Duo wrenches free, twisting to glare at him. 'I'm not some…I don't need all that.'
'It's called foreplay,' Trowa says mildly. 'Look, I'm sorry if I'm not just slamming you into walls or whatever Heero does, but I like making it last. Most people enjoy it.'
'You don't know shit about me and Heero,' Duo snaps. 'At least, when we were together, he wasn't pretending I was someone else.'
'What? I don't do that!'
'Oh, screw you.' Duo grabs a pillow and wraps himself around it. 'Just…leave me alone.'
'Duo?' Trowa kisses the jut of his shoulder. 'What's wrong? Talk to me? Please? Duo?'
'Nothing,' Duo mutters. 'Nothing. Forget it.'
'Why, if nothing's wrong?'
'Because.'
'Please don't.' Duo has his head buried in the pillow, tangled hair fanning out over his shoulders. For once, he'd let Trowa pull off his hair tie without complaining. How the hell had they got from that perfect, perfect night in the thunderstorm to this? 'Duo, if I don't know what's wrong, how can you expect me to try to help?'
'I don't expect any damn thing from you. Why the hell would I?' He wrenches Trowa's arm off and slides out of bed. 'This is fucking stupid. I don't need all this shit, OK? I'm going.'
'What the hell are you talking about? Going where?'
'I've got an early flight in the morning.' He bent to pull on his jeans, groping under the bed for the t-shirt he'd been wearing. 'I'll get a room at the airport hotel. Save me getting up at the crack of dawn to drive from this godforsaken place.'
'What flight? Where are you going?'
'Berlin. There's a conference. I told you.'
'I'm pretty sure I would have remembered you telling me that.'
'Well, apparently not.'
Trowa doesn't make a habit of losing his temper; it doesn't mean he's not capable. 'So what's the deal? You're going to do what you did whenever you and Heero had a fight? You'll run off and find some hot German guy to screw you?'
'That's what you think of me? Nice, Trowa.'
'You know I didn't mean that.'
'Don't I? Maybe it's what I will do. You're right, I am pretty much a slut. Might as well start charging again, since I need to start saving up for my own place.'
'I'm sorry I said that. people say stuff they don't mean when they're pissed. You know that.'
'Yeah. I think they usually say what they mean, actually.' He lifts one shoulder in a careless shrug,, twisting his hair back with one hand, snapping an elastic from around his wrist to secure it.. 'I'll see you.'
It's the shrug, more than anything that does it, like Trowa's not even owed a vaguely sincere gesture, and he snaps. Before his brain's even caught up, he has Duo pinned against the door.
Duo lets him, hands hanging loose at his sides. His eyes are utterly devoid of any expression, any emotion whatsoever. 'So, for all your talk of not slamming me into things, here we are. What next? Going to try forcing me?'
'Wouldn't dare. You really think I have that much of a death wish?'
'You're pretty dumb, sometimes.'
'I wouldn't,' Trowa breathes, and has absolutely no idea what to do. He's terrified if he lets Duo go, he won't come back, ever.
'Yeah. Yeah, I know,' Duo says finally. Even when Trowa does loosen his grip, he doesn't pull away, just leans on him. 'Tro, I just…I dunno. I need a bit of space, OK?'
'When do you get back?'
'Two days.' His mouth twists. 'Unless I score some hot stud tomorrow. Might stay over for the weekend in that case.'
'I shouldn't have said that. I know. Look, Duo. Just let me know when your flight gets in. OK? I'll pick you up.'
Duo doesn't answer exactly, but Trowa does get a quick kiss on the cheek in passing as he walks out. He gets a text the next morning. There's no message, but the attachment has the flight details.
Quatre called the next day, just after he'd made dinner and was settled on the couch. They usually spoke on a much more regular basis, once every few days at the absolute minimum, but Quatre had been on his yearly tour of WEI subsidiaries in the colonies, and between his manic schedule and the time differences, they'd somehow been dodging each other, apart from a few quick calls.
'Hey! How's it going?'
'Well. It's going,' Quatre smiled out of the monitor. It was an expression he'd picked up from Duo. 'It's so good to finally catch you! How are you?' He looked curiously out of the screen at the pile of folders Trowa had stacked beside him on the cushions. 'I thought you never brought work home.'
'I don't, normally. Just kind of snowed under at the moment. The end of the month; we're still getting in late reports from the first quarter. You know.'
Not true, not really. Yeah, the last few days of the month were normally pretty crazy, but he was usually good at managing it. He wasn't usually spending every spare minute, and quite a few he couldn't really spare, with Duo. Or thinking about Duo.
Quatre grimaced in sympathy. 'Is there anything I can do?'
'Yeah, sure.' He gestured to the stack of folders, wondering if it was an optical illusion, or if they'd actually bred in the last five minutes. 'I could scan you some stuff. I'd need it back ASAP though.'
'Of course,' Quat said at once. 'I've more or less given up on sleep these days.'
'I'm only joking.' He was smiling though. Quatre had almost always been able to make him smile. He hated it, sometimes, that Quatre still affected him like that. And then sometimes, like now, he just wanted to bask in it, in the way Quat looked at him. Making him remember just how he'd felt when he'd been fifteen and so dizzily, disbelievingly in love for the first time.
He wasn't fifteen any more. Nor was Quatre, for that matter. He still almost looked it sometimes, especially when he'd let his hair grow out a bit.
It was at the shorter end of the spectrum at the moment; he'd clearly had it cut for the trip. He looked his age for once, with those smudges under his eyes; he hadn't been joking about the not sleeping, and those two little vertical furrows between his brows. He hadn't had those at fifteen. Too long since he'd been Earthside; his skin had that pale, papery-dry look it took on when he'd been in space.
Anyone else would have looked washed-out, faded. The pallor just made his eyes look bluer than usual; the desk on his lamp gilded his too-short hair to a soft, buttery-gold. He was in the library, the room his father had used as a study, so of course Quat did too. He'd never changed anything; just added a couple of framed photographs, but otherwise he'd left the room as it had been when he'd been a child, the room he'd been summoned to for any transgressions by a father who'd never valued him; who'd only ever wanted to make him into a neat replica of himself.
'You look wrecked, Quat.'
'Oh, thank you, Trowa,' the blond said smartly. 'Well. I am, I suppose. I do very vaguely remember an absolutely wonderful thing called sleep. ''
'What are you doing calling me if you're so tired? You should be asleep,'
Quat laughed. 'Á few minutes won't make much difference. I'll go to bed soon; I just wanted to talk to you first. I've missed that.'
'Yeah, me too. You're really going to have to cut back on your schedule a bit, Quat. It's crazy, you trying to visit every brick WEI owns in a few weeks. You're not as young as you used to be.'
'I know.' Quat agreed solemnly. 'Twenty-five, almost. Quite decrepit. And it is tough, but honestly, it's easier just to get it all over in one go. And people expect it now.'
And it was the way his father had done it, Trowa added in his head.
'So. How're things otherwise?' Trowa asked, a neat formula which just skirted the edges of all the things in Quatre's life which he didn't really want to know about, but felt he should make a token effort to sound interested in.
'Oh, fine,' Quatre said, obviously not wanting to talk about said things either. 'Actually, there's no one else here. It's glorious. Such peace.'
That was sad, if you thought about it. Quatre had always been the sociable one. It hurt, just a little, to imagine him rattling around his deserted mansion, glad of the silence.
'I shan't be here for long, this time,' he went on. 'I've got meetings on Earth next week. Budapest. I know you're busy and I don't know what your schedule is like but…'
'Let me know the details,' Trowa said instantly. 'I'll swing something, even if it's just for a couple of days.'
'Oh, I'd love that. It's been far too long since I've seen you.'
Over two months, Trowa thought. Back before any of this had happened.
'I don't suppose you've spoken to Duo at all? I've been trying to call him for a week, but I seem to keep missing him.'
There it was; the perfect opening. He fluffed it. Partly, like he'd told Duo, he wanted to tell Quat in person. Partly, though, he wasn't sure if there was anything to tell, any more, since that last row.
'He's away, I think,' Trowa hedged. 'I think someone said something about a conference in Berlin. He should be back in a day or so,' he said vaguely, as if he didn't have the flight time and number in his 'phone. 'So. How was the Grand Tour anyway?'
'Oh, the usual. Whole nations laying tribute at my feet,' Quatre said grandly and laughed, that sound that always made the universe just a little brighter. 'The new mining consortium on L1 gave me these, at least.' He held one wrist closer to the screen so Trowa could see the cufflinks he was wearing. They were hideous, like little chunks of rock, but Quat would probably end up wearing them for years, until someone gave him something even worse. 'And the miners' school children sang a song in my honour. It was quite mortifying.'
'Sucks to be you,' Trowa commiserated. 'No nubile young virgins brought to your tent for deflowering?'
'Not a one.' Quat let the corners of his mouth hook down for a second and then laughed again. 'Just the cufflinks. And some rather limp roses.' He lay back in his chair, closing his eyes briefly.
Trowa didn't say anything, just lounged back against his cushions and watched him. They'd always had those shared little moments of silence, neither of them needed to speak. He and Duo weren't really there yet, although they'd almost done it, a couple of times. Duo was better than he expected, really, at silence. Way better than he'd been at fifteen.
Quatre opened his eyes, looking back at him. 'What's wrong?'
'Nothing. Why?'
'I don't know…I just thought you looked sad.'
'Just tired, I guess. I'm OK. '
Quatre gave him a look, but then let it go, and they talked about nothing much for another half-hour or so, and then he went to bed and tried resolutely to think about work and Duo.
He was at the airport an hour early two days later, just in case Duo's flight miraculously landed ahead of time, and bought an over-priced liquid that claimed to be coffee, and a newspaper and tried not to fidget too much as he waited by the barrier. Duo looked like he was going to blank him at first, then changed direction at the last second so his trolley almost ran over Trowa's foot.
'What the hell was that for, Maxwell?' He kept his voice down, mindful of being in a crowded place.
Duo swung the trolley at him again; this time, the handle just glanced off his hip. 'What do you fucking think, Barton?' he snapped, clearly having no compunction whatsoever about having a very loud row in public. 'Couldn't wait 'til I was out of the country, could you? Yeah, I know what you've been up to. All those cosy little bed-time chats with Quat. Making plans to rush off and see him the minute he's back on earth. Did you think he wouldn't tell me, you asshole? He's my friend; we talk about stuff. Or did you just not care? This supposed to be your way of letting me know you don't want me any more 'cause you've got the guy you really want back?'
'Stop that,' Trowa grabbed his arm, dragged the trolley to a halt. 'You're being an idiot, and we're not having this row here. I'm not talking to you when you're like this. Now. Taxi rank over there,' he pointed. 'I'm parked in the underground garage. Your choice.'
He counted Duo's breaths as he considered. When he reached out and pushed the down button on the lift door, Trowa let himself breathe out.
He opened the car door for Duo, who was juggling a suitcase and a laptop bag and a suit carrier, and got sworn at for his pains.
'I know how to open a fucking door. I'm not Quat, needing some flunky to do everything for me.'
'It's pretty obvious you're not Quat. He has manners at least,' Trowa said coolly. He got in the car, leaving Duo to sort himself out, and get in or not or whatever the hell he wanted.
He got in.
'Where do you want to go? Wufei's place? The lighthouse? Your jeep's at Preventers, right? You want to go there? Or back to Heero?'
'I actually don't give a toss, Trowa.' He said it without any inflection at all, staring straight out the windscreen. 'Screw it. Just drop me outside the Arrivals building. I'll get a cab somewhere.'
'I see. Is this us breaking up?'
'Not much to break, is there? We fucked a few times. Oh, yeah, and you made me breakfast in bed that morning. Not exactly like we need to call in our legal teams to divide up our joint assets.'
'There's the mirror,' Trowa countered. 'I paid for it, but you're the one who's been working on it.'
'I don't want the damn mirror.'
'You think I do? I didn't want it in the first place, but you twisted my arm, and now it's even worse than it used to be, with half the gold paint off it. You're not leaving it cluttering up my place.'
'Oh, fuck, Tro.' Duo gave him a strangled little travesty of a laugh and, just like that, all the tension seemed to melt away.
'Welcome back.' Trowa got in a kiss without getting his tongue bitten off although Duo did give him a moderately vicious glare. 'Lighthouse?'
'Yeah. 'Kay.'
They drove in silence for the first thirty minutes, then Trowa pulled off the road to a viewpoint overlooking the sea. He didn't really want to have this conversation at home, where there'd be too many reminders of it if things went bad, and maybe Duo would prefer somewhere more neutral. 'Want to stretch my legs a bit,' he said, by way of explanation. Duo nodded, falling into step beside him.
'So? Talk?'
'Yeah.' Duo lifted one finger to his mouth, worrying with his teeth at a hangnail. 'It was kind of a giant kick in the teeth, talking to Quat last night. Hearing him talking all about you guys making a nice little romantic assignation. Were you even going to fucking tell me?'
'Of course I was! Duo, come on. It's not a romantic assignation, whatever the hell that is. I told you I wanted to meet up with Quat, to tell him about us. I was going to tell you about it once I saw you. Honestly, it's not like I could have kept it a secret, even I'd wanted to. He would have told you.'
'Well, he did.' Duo mulled that over. 'It fucking sucked, Trowa. Listening to Quat gushing about how much he was looking forward to seeing you again, and all the stuff he was planning for you guys, and it was pretty damn obvious what he was expecting, and me sat there not having a clue what was going on.'
'I'm sorry, really. I should have called you.'
He'd had all sorts of excuses not to. Time differences. Duo undoubtedly being busy and strapped for time. That they hadn't parted that well and maybe they both needed a bit of space to themselves.
All good, logical reasons, neatly lined up in a row.
Nothing about how he'd wanted to hug that conversation with Quat to himself for just a little while. The way he'd smiled. The prospect of seeing him.
Bad, bad things.
'Is that how it'll always be?' Duo demanded. 'Quat snapping his fingers and you rushing off 'cause you can't survive two weeks without breathing the same air as him? I'm not going to live like that.'
'It's been months since I've seen him, actually,' Trowa said very precisely. 'And I've survived perfectly well. I could have met up with him somewhere in space, if I'd wanted to see him that badly. I said I'd go to Budapest 'cause it's convenient, way easier than me flying off to L4, and I do need to talk to him. You know that.'
'I guess,' Duo muttered, still not looking exactly enthralled.
'You could come,' Trowa offered; a sudden impulse.
'Seriously?'
'Yeah, why not? It'd be fun. Taking a trip.'
'Maybe,' Duo considered, staring at him. 'Dunno if I can take time off work. I'm kind of swamped this week. You really want me to?'
'Absolutely.' It had been a bit of a throwaway comment, really; something to stop Duo looking like that. But it would be fun, the two of them going somewhere, and it would maybe be better, easier, to tell Quat together. Duo might do it, even.
'Oh. OK. Um, I can look at getting time off, maybe.'
'Good.' He leaned in to kiss Duo properly; this time, Duo let him. 'Better?'
'Yeah.' Duo tangled their fingers together. 'I maybe kind of freaked out. And just possibly over-reacted a teeny bit.'
'A bit, yeah. You tried to break my foot with that damn trolley.'
'Better behave yourself in future, Barton, so.'
'Yeah.' He swung their joined hands, and then pulled Duo properly against him. 'I'm sorry. honestly. I should have called you, let you know what was going on.'
'Yeah,' Duo echoed. 'I could've talked to you first, before going off bull-headed.'
'Mmm. Duo, can I ask you something? Heero said something to you, didn't he? About me.'
He'd been thinking about it. The morning after the lightning-thunderstorm-sex, Duo had certainly been a bit on edge, more jagged than usual, but nothing all that remarkable. Then he'd apparently spoken to Heero at work that day, and it had all gone wrong.
'He didn't do anything; just laid out a couple of facts.'
'What facts?'
'Nothing I didn't know. Like you're still hung up on Quat.'
'Duo. We talked about this.'
'We did, yeah. And you know what? It was pretty obvious that you're still into him.'
'I fell for him when we were fifteen, Duo. And yes, part of me is still in love with that boy, but that's not who he is now. He was just – I'd never met anyone like him before. Ever. I couldn't believe that someone like him would even look at someone like me, never mind anything else.'
'FYI, Trowa, if this is supposed to be you convincing me you're over him, it's kind of an epic fail so far.'
'Just listen, OK? I'm trying. I thought…everything about him was magical, all the things he knew, the stuff he could do. The way he looked at me. Everyone else in my life thought I'd only ever been a whore or a weapon or something to be used, but Quat, he wanted to be my friend, and I'd never had that, Duo. Never. It was like I'd dreamed him, except I'd never dared imagine anyone like that. Not caring about me.'
'Yeah,' Duo muttered sourly. 'I get it. And, just so you know, this story still sucks.'
Trowa actually laughed. 'I know. But I'm trying to give you some background. That was the way it was, Duo. A total fantasy, except it was real, and then it wasn't and now I'm here and you are and he isn't. Yeah, I am kind of still into him, but the guy he used to be. Not who he is now. I don't know who he even is, most of the time. What he actually wants. I won't be running back to him,' he added softly. 'Seriously. That's not going to happen, ever. He's changed; I've changed. We're not the people we were when we were fifteen. When we were together, he was always the one who called the shots, you know. Always. I'd have gone along with anything in the universe, anything he wanted, just to be with him. That's not me any more.'
