Disclaimer: Not Mine.

Warnings: Language

Thank you to Rei Tomiyama, Dragen Eyes, Satanira, Niote, Ink2, Lilhana21, T, Link Worshiper, Chibis Unleashed, rumplestiltskin, Skarlet Red, camillian, Thalia16, Aya, Becky, Jania, Akennea, HUMHUM, Ashen Skies, Lrigelbbub, Dancing Wolf, dark revenge, Pia Bartolini, MC-88, tiger jade, and Mama-sama for your wonderful reviews and feedback. Thank you especially for your understanding and support of the job situation.

Control Freak part VIII

It was by far the most comfortable toilet seat he'd ever sat on. Aggravatingly, it would have been more comfortable still if he wasn't perched atop it like a lunatic, feet pulled up from the floor so that he was curled into a ridiculous ball, his knees thrust into his face. Of course, no matter how forgiving the seat was, the position was doing wonders for the circulation to his lower legs. His left foot had already gone numb and the right one was well on its way.

Cursing quietly to himself, he managed to pull his sleeve up enough to see his watch. Great. He'd barely been there for five minutes. He wondered if that was long enough for the rabid she-witch of psychotic tendencies to have gathered her ruffles and left. She was probably still out there waiting for him to re-emerge so she could do something horrific to him like apologize. God, he hated apologies. Did nothing but make everyone involved uncomfortable and half the time they weren't even sincere. Although sometimes they wound up okay. Or they did until he found himself skulking about an over-decorated men's room in a restaurant where pizza cost the same as a new transmission. At least there wasn't a bathroom attendant.

He sighed and rested his forehead on his knees. Why was he hiding in here, anyway? He didn't give a fuck what all those people out there thought of him. When was he ever going to see them again? What were they going to do? Write the incident up in their gossip column and spoil his reputation with Daddy Warbucks, forever denying him the opportunity to tap dance around a mansion wearing a red mini dress? Yeah. He'd take his chances.

Hell, he didn't even care what the Priss-Master's impression was. She'd probably killed so many of her brain cells with all that perfume she wore that she wouldn't even remember they'd met. He'd caught her surreptitiously sniffing herself twice already, her hand straying towards her purse each time. Either she had some stank-ass armpits or her daddy had stock in Chanel No. 5 or whatever the fuck company was responsible for that nauseating smell.

It's not like he cared what Trowa thought of him. Christ, that guy'd held his hair back while he was shit-faced and puking over a toilet far less clean than this one. He doubted he could do anything short of mass murder that would drive Trowa away.

As for Heero… Fuck. He liked the guy. A lot. More than he should. Sure, he was sometimes arrogant, snobby, and physically aggressive. But he was also intelligent, willing to admit his mistakes, and determined. That made him one of the most normal people he'd met in a long time. Call him crazy, but he liked normalcy in a man. He wouldn't mind getting to know him better. A guy needed more than one friend, after all.

He wondered how many friends Heero had.

He snorted. Who was he kidding? Heero and him hanging out? That would never happen. Why the hell would Heero be interested in that?

Of course, he was the one who invited him out for pizza.

But, then he also invited Relena and Trowa.

But, he only invited Trowa because he happened to be there.

But, that doesn't explain away Relena. They had come in her car, after all.

So, they were close friends, likely more. Why did that bother him? Wasn't he just thinking that a person needed more than one friend?

That didn't make him feel any less like ripping Relena's head off, though.

"What the hell is wrong with me?!" he groaned just as the door to the men's room swung open. He froze and did his best to breathe silently.

"Duo? Are you in here?" Heero's voice called quietly. He resisted the urge to curse. Great. Just great. Perfect timing.

Heero's steps echoed as he crossed the tile floor. "I know you haven't left yet because Trowa is still out there. I don't know why you're hiding, but would you please come out?"

Sure. Okay. He'd do that, just because he said, "please." Right.

"Duo?" Now he sounded uncertain. Duo listened as he walked to the end of the row of stalls, even his footsteps seeming hesitant. Mental sirens blaring in his head, Duo pulled his feet in closer and wished there was someway to gracefully handle this predicament.

"Duo," Heero said exasperatedly. "I understand if you don't want to talk to me, but could you at least let me apologize to you and not a urinal?"

He hadn't noticed it earlier, but the back of the stall door had some actual graffiti on it. No, wait. It was just the natural grain of the wood. Never mind.

Belatedly he noticed that Heero had begun systematically peering under every stall door. He'd take two steps, pause. Take two steps, pause. It was only a matter of time before he was discovered in all his glory. He could only hope that the angle would prevent Heero from seeing his feet.

Step, step, pause. A pair of beat-up loafers stopped in front of the stall. He watched Heero's shadow slowly transform into a round blob as the boy crouched down and attempted to peer through the narrow space between the floor and the bottom of the door. He held his breath as Heero slowly straightened back up. He'd survived… only to nearly die of a heart attack as Heero pounded on the door.

"I know you're in there, Duo. I can see your shoelaces hanging down."

Dammit all to hell. Why didn't he learn to keep them tied? Why why why?

"Duo!" More banging ensued. "Come out!"

There was just no way to settle this and still look cool. "Fine, fine," he snapped. "I'm coming." Praying that his deadened feet would support him, he attempted to stand. So far so good. Feeling reasonably steady, he unlocked the door and allowed it to swing open. "Congratulations," he glared, leaning against the side of the stall and crossing his arms. "Behind door number five is a disgruntled punk ready to kick your ass. What will you do now?"

"Apologize for the way my idiotic friend treated you and offer a consolation prize?" Heero gave a lop-sided grin that seemed as natural to him as modesty did to Britney Spears. "I'm not sure what she said to you, but I want to --"

"She claimed to be your girlfriend and accused me of being attracted to you. Stupid bitch," he said before he could stop himself. Because tattling was what all the cool kids did. He mentally congratulated him. Great job, Duo. Way to alienated and generally piss off a guy! Insult his possible girlfriend's integrity and then curse her out. Smoooooth.

"Well, are you?" Heero asked point blank, crossing his own arms and looking quite serious, seemingly not bothered at all by his treatment of Relena.

"Hell, no!" he blurted without thinking. Liar, a little voice in his head chided. So he was a liar. So what? Like he cared.

Aw, shit. He did care. Crap. "I mean, um…" he amended lamely. "Well, you see…"

Heero raised an eyebrow, distracting him momentarily. How did people do that? Oh, wait. He could do that.

Now was the perfect time for a change of subject. "What about Relena? Is she or isn't she your girlfriend?" he demanded, doing his best to look intimidating, which, considering he was about two feet from a toilet, was no mean feat.

"Despite her mental delusions, we are not and never have been dating. Unless you count that day in sixth grade," he mused, "when she told people I was her beaux. I agreed, thinking she meant 'bo' and that she was complimenting my fighting abilities. When I went home that night and bragged to Maria, she told me what a beaux really was. I wasn't happy." He chuckled self-derisively.

"And who is Maria?" Duo asked thickly, hunching into his sweatshirt. Christ, could this get any worse? Now he was having their history rubbed in his face.

"Oh, she's our housekeeper. She's great. You'd like her," Heero grinned briefly, then looked intensely earnest once more. "Say, do you want to come home and meet her? She's a great cook. Makes that pizza we didn't eat look like cardboard. And I've got a bunch of video games and movies. We could, you know, hang out or something."

"And Trowa?" he managed somehow, unable to think. How the fuck was this happening?

Heero sighed covertly. "He can come, too, if he'd like."

He should say no. Common sense told him that much. There was no reason for him to forgive this guy again. He should punch his face in and cut his losses. Refuse to see him. Request a new tutor. Anything but meekly say, "Yeah, sure. Whatever. Anything's better than this shit-hole." He straightened up, circulation restored once more to his feet, and gestured to the door. "Well, let's go."

Heero's eyes did some strange wide-glowy thing, then he turned and started briskly towards the door.

"This Maria had better be one hell of a good cook," he gruffly informed Heero as they entered the dining room. "Otherwise I might be displeased."

"Is that why you're so often… detained?" Heero returned. "You're busy punishing mediocre chefs for the horrors they've inflicted on mankind?"

"You'll just have to wait and find out." As they passed their table, he gestured for Trowa to follow them out. The taller boy rose, almost hitting a waiter as he pushed back his chair. He looked down his nose at the man, plainly unapologetic, then followed them out.

"I can deal with that," Heero quietly stated, sounding as if he was talking to himself. "Waiting is no problem at all."

-end part viii-