A/N: For Crafty Companion, who requested 2x3 for "I know I'm your best man, but maybe I should mention that I'm in love with you."
And we all owe Maevemauvaise a HUGE thanks because she saved this from going down a VERY, VERY dark path (I will explain at the end).
Pairings: 2x3, 3x4
Warnings: language, angst
Trowa looked into the floor-length mirror and gave his bowtie another tug. It still didn't look perfect, canting to the left ever so slightly - just enough to be noticeable.
"Here, lemme have a go."
Strong, familiar hands on his shoulders turned Trowa around and he looked into the face of his best man and long-time best friend, Duo. The other man was slightly shorter than Trowa, the tip of his nose just barely reaching Trowa's chin when they stood eye to eye like this.
Duo ducked his head and focused his attention on the rebellious bowtie, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he concentrated.
Trowa sighed as Duo completely undid the bow tie.
"Hey, you're the one who can't properly tie it," Duo pointed out.
"I'm going to be late."
Duo looked up at him and offered a slight smirk.
"I'm pretty sure, all things considered, they'll hold for you. You kinda need two for this to work, yanno? And if Quatre is ready to spend the rest of his life as Mr. Winner -Bloom -"
"Mr. Winner. We decided to keep our own names."
"No hyphen?"
"No - the company letterhead and -"
Duo snorted derisively and shook his head.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he mumbled under his breath and tugged on Trowa's collar, none too gently. "You'd think the guy wouldn't mind the effort to -"
"It's fine," Trowa interrupted Duo. He reached up and took hold of Duo's fingers, squeezing them in an effort to reassure both Duo and himself. "It's fine," he repeated.
His fiance - husband in a matter of minutes - was an incredibly important man, the president of a company that had been in his family for generations and Trowa understood precisely why Quatre had backed down from changing his name to Winner-Bloom.
Perhaps, if Trowa had been equally important - equally wealthy and famous and their union hailed as a financial coup instead of a modern day Cinderella story - Quatre would feel comfortable changing his name.
But Trowa wasn't important or wealthy or famous. He was just the sailing instructor who had had his life changed the day Quatre Winner walked into it.
He tried not to let those thoughts show too much on his face.
"Speaking of fine," Duo said in an obvious change of subject, "that bow tie - is looking damn sharp."
Duo clapped him on the shoulders and turned Trowa back around.
Trowa looked at himself in the mirror again, conscious of Duo just behind him, of Duo's hand still on his shoulder.
The bow tie looked perfect - in fact, Trowa himself looked like he had stepped out of a suit advertisement. Everything was impeccably - expensively - tailored. He was wearing a fortune, standing in the dressing room at a church that had cost tens of thousands of dollars to reserve for just this day.
He was standing there, looking at himself in the mirror, and completely unable to recognize the man in the reflection.
"So…"
Duo's voice sounded strange, slightly off-pitch, and Trowa met his dark gaze in the mirror. Duo offered him a small, almost apologetic smirk.
"I know I'm your best man, but…" Duo paused and drew in a deep breath. Trowa felt his stomach drop. But was never a good thing. "But," Duo continued, voice stronger, "maybe I should mention that I'm in love with you."
Duo was staring right at him, blue gaze open and full and it took Trowa a moment to remember that he should breathe. That breathing was necessary. That he couldn't actually let himself drown in Duo's eyes.
"I, uh… say something, please. I just threw myself at you and I -" Duo reached up and pushed his messy bangs away, a nervous gesture that Trowa had picked up on the first day they had met.
"Duo, I -"
"Cut!"
"Fuck," Trowa muttered under his breath and he sighed. He'd done it again.
Duo gave him a look that was part amused, part exasperated.
"Trowa, his name is not Duo, it's -"
"Alex, I know. I'm sorry."
The director glared at Trowa, her irritation very, very palpable.
Trowa didn't blame her - it was the third time while filming this scene that he had called Duo not by his character's name, Alex, but by his own name.
Trowa looked around the set, at the array of cameras and lights and the tiny army of the production team that was assembled just beyond the edge of the carpet for the dressing room interior.
Everyone looked tired, cranky, irritated by having their time wasted yet again.
Trowa swallowed hard and looked away.
"Hey," Duo reached out and squeezed his shoulder, the gesture solid and real and Trowa looked into his eyes. "It happens, man."
"Let's go again from the -" the director turned away, stalking back to her position, but her assistant loudly cleared his throat, interrupting her.
The director glared at him, and if looks could kill, the man would be dead on the spot.
"You have a dinner with your daughter and husband in half an hour and you -"
"Fuck. Fine. That's it for today, people but you -" she pointed at Trowa, "you better get it through your head that he is Alex and not Duo."
The director walked away and it was as if a switched had been turned - everyone went into action, packing away equipment and moving away from the set as if told to flee for their lives.
Trowa sighed and walked away as well, quickly and with his head down. He needed to get out of this costume, off of this set, and away from the disappointment and frustration in everyone's eyes.
Most of all, he needed to get away from Duo.
Trowa knew that he had been cast in this film, in large part, because his sister had written the screenplay and begged the director, an old friend from film school, to give her baby brother a shot. That had weighed heavily on him from the beginning and even though the film was a low-budget indie, Trowa was by far the least experienced actor. Everyone - from Duo to the gorgeous blond that played Quatre to the actors cast as Trowa's co-workers and parents and sister - was more experienced, was good.
And then there was Trowa. Inexperienced, untalented Trowa who knew he had only been cast because Cathy had begged and because he wasn't hideous to look at.
And that was… well, it wasn't fine but that was how things were and Trowa had decided to make the best of it, to do his damn best not to fuck this up and he'd been doing okay, had spent the first three weeks of filming doing fine if not great but then Duo had shown up.
Duo Maxwell, talented, openly-gay, personable and friendly to the point that every member of crafts services, hair and makeup and lighting would probably lay down their lives for him.
He was also ridiculously, inhumanly gorgeous. And Trowa… Trowa had always had a thing for long hair, for confident smirks and it wasn't fair that every time they filmed a scene together all Trowa could think about was Duo. Duo, not Alex. Not the script or the movie or anything except Duo.
It was hard enough to remember his own name when confronted with Duo's beauty - impossible to remember that Trowa was supposed to call him Alex.
"Hey."
Trowa, standing in only his boxers as he passed his suit over to the wardrobe assistant, looked up to see Duo, still in costume, leaning against the wall.
"Hey," Trowa repeated, feeling more than a little stupid, standing there half-naked and unable to come up with anything wittier than hey.
Duo smirked, the expression cocky and if he hadn't been such a thoroughly good person that look would have made him unbearable.
"Wanna grab a drink?"
Trowa frowned.
"Me?" he pointed at himself.
Duo made a show of looking around, at the completely empty room.
"Yeah, you."
"Why?"
Duo shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno. Maybe you're thirsty? Maybe you want to get out of here and relax and -"
"No, why do you want to get a drink with me?"
"Aside from the obvious?" Duo smirked again and his eyes flicked down, taking in Trowa's exposed body, before focusing back on his face. "I dunno. Thought it might be nice? Get to know you… complain about work and -"
"It would be easier to complain about me if I wasn't there," Trowa pointed out.
Duo rolled his eyes. "It's not that big of a deal! You know, the first movie I made - I mean, the first one when I had actual lines that weren't screams of agony as I was murdered because that's what always happens to Onlooker #3 in horror films - the first movie I made, I played this fast food server and I was supposed to say "Welcome to Chuck's, what can I get you?" But I have this, uh, problem with my s's sometimes - dunno if you've noticed?"
Trowa shook his head in the negative.
"Yeah, well, after getting yelled at by the director - he was such a fucking prick - in front of the entire cast and crew for an hour straight while the guy starring in the movie just sat back and laughed his ass off - I spent the next two years working with a speech therapist and vocal coach so that it, ah, well - I'm told it's only noticeable now when I'm really drunk or really close to getting off."
Trowa could only stare. The mental image of Duo on the cusp of orgasm was a hard one to shake.
He felt a very sudden, very strong desire to see if Duo was making this whole thing up, or if he actually did develop a lisp during sex.
"So how about it?"
"Sex?"
Duo laughed loudly but then he shook his head and smirked.
"I meant the drink?"
"Oh." Trowa flushed, feeling like such an idiot.
Duo arched an eyebrow. "I'm not saying sex is off the table, just that, you know, I'd like to get to know you first, is all."
Trowa met his gaze, saw the frank appreciation in Duo's eyes.
"That sounds good," he decided.
"The drink or the sex?" Duo teased.
"Whichever lets me hear your lisp first," Trowa retorted and Duo's eyes widened before he laughed again.
"Alright. Deal." He gestured to Trowa. "I'll let you get dressed - and meet you out front in ten?"
Trowa nodded and Duo offered him a salute before pushing away from the wall.
Trowa watched him go, the swagger in Duo's walk somewhere between sexy and amusing, and then looked around for his clothes.
So maybe today had been a total disaster, but there was no reason tonight couldn't be an improvement.
-o-
Notes:
So when I initially received this request I was prepared to make this ANGSTY AS ALL because I have SUCH a problem with the whole trope of admitting you love someone when they are about to get married to someone else.
I just… can you IMAGINE what it feels like to be that other person? To be ready to spend the rest of your life with someone and then, out of the blue, on the DAY OF YOUR WEDDING, the love of your life is all 'actually I just had a five minute conversation with my bud and I'm out. Peace.'
So this was GOING to be Duo confessing his love for Trowa and Trowa still marrying Quatre because HE loved Quatre and it's just… not okay.
But then Maeve had the brilliant suggestion that maybe it's not real - that maybe it could be filming a movie or a play. So, THANK YOU Maeve, for saving this from the pit of despair, because that was where it was headed otherwise.