Security Measures
The Weaver Atropos


Eating Cheap Hamburgers and a Having Wayward Talk

He hadn't thought the man would take him to heart.

"I had a hard time recognizing you," he was smiling as he said it, taking in the sight of Heero in faded jeans and a comfortable green tank.

Duo smiled as he followed Heero along, this time to dine at the latter's place of choosing, and hummed an old tune to himself. "It looks like a wound made by a metal of sorts."

"Hmm?"

"Your scar."

"Oh…" the braided youth glanced downwards at himself. He had purposely worn a high-necked shirt to hide the scraggly cut—fact that hadn't been lost on Heero—and had been more than surprised by the other's insistence on it. "That's because it is. Or was."

A brown brow quirked upwards, "How did it happen, exactly?"

Duo fidgeted with his leather jacket before shrugging, "One of the pieces I was working on fell on top of us. Got dislodged from the hangar's anchor. I got the unfinished rough edge of the suit's hull at the neck—it started here," he pointed at his neck, "and ended up over here by the time it slid all the way down," he frowned, "it crushed my friend."

"Was that all he was, just a friend?"

To say he was startled by the question was an understatement.

"What?"

"If he was only a friend—just a question…you don't have to answer."

Once more, Duo shrugged, braid falling forwards over his shoulder, thumping a little against his chest. "What about you, Mr. Cryptographer? Got many friends?"

"A couple. A close group of comrades—nothing more, nothing less."

"No love interest?"

"Should there be?"

Amethyst eyes twinkled amusedly at the rhetoric, taking in the sight of the relaxed, albeit still wary, man. They had known each other for a few weeks—a month, maybe—and had formed a sort of loose camaraderie. They ate together every few days, mostly for the company, and talked about nothing in particular. Or rather say, Duo talked; Heero simply listened.

Duo heaved a sigh and stretched, lifting his arms about his head and shifting side to side. "God, I'm tired."

"What do you do, exactly?"

"Hmm? You mean at work?" Duo paused as they crossed the street, Heero giving a brisk nod in assent to his question and looking at him expectantly. "Mold and solder units, for the most part. Sometimes the programming…but they don't really let me have too much fun with that."

"How so?"

"Well…the programming tends to be specific to the pilot—so usually the pilot does his own programming. Unless he's a crackpot at that and mechanics; in which case I end up synchronizing the pilot to the suit," he paused as he finished, casting Heero a weary look. "It's not incredibly glamorous, especially considering I can't ever pilot myself."

That was a surprise, "Why is that?"

There was a wry grin and a knowing look in Duo's eyes as he looked meaningfully into Heero's own blue eyes, "Background checks. The government doesn't find me too reliable, apparently."


"Third time this week, Yuy."

"Get back to work, Chang."

Wufei chuckled a bit to himself as the Japanese man sank into his chair, flipping through the contents of his desk haphazardly. "Nothing new?"

"Nothing remarkable, if that's your question. Just logistics on past cases to be closed."

"Fun."

"As for other things…." The black-haired man paused and dropped his voice as he leaned forward, "what have you found out about Maxwell?"

Heero hesitated in his reply. He trusted Wufei—knew he could trust him with anything—but he wasn't particularly sure of his answer. "Outside of a few questionable accidents…not much. I've got a certain…vibe…that he was in on something of G's in the past, but has distanced himself somewhat since then. Apparently there was a death involved."

Wufei was startled. "A death, of whom?"

"A friend of Maxwell's. Something more than a friend, I'd wager to say."

A thin, ebony brow rose, "A lover?"

He nodded, "I'm pretty damn sure."


"Duo! You got a visitor!"

"Hmm…?"

Duo glanced down curiously from his position atop the Leo suit, soldering gun held in hand, protective suit on, headpiece over his eyes. He flipped the switch and the flame on the solder died down. Pulling at the headpiece leisurely, he glanced down, wondering who could be looking for him. Trowa rarely made an appearance by his workplace—and when he did, he would usually advise him of the fact in advance—and he really hadn't had a real visitor for a good year or two. Ever since the accident.

"Ne! Duo! Come down!"

The voice, sweet and mellow, had dragged him from his work, managing—somehow—to disturb his focus. He glanced down the nose of the suit he was working on, feeling a slight rush of adrenalin when he realized how high up he was, and took in the sight of the small blonde near the entrance of the shop. He was dressed in a beige suit and was waving a sealed envelope enthusiastically at him. Quatre.

He hopped down to the suit's forearm, sliding a bit down its fingertips until he was by its kneecap, and latched himself on the wire pulley that would take him to the shop's floor. He tore off his sweaty cap and flashed the shorter blond a mischievous smile. "Hey."

There were grease splatters on his cheeks and on his clothes, but the blonde reeled him in for a quick hug nonetheless, his fingertips lingering more than they normally would—the touch persisting enough to suggest more than a mere friendship.

The blonde's voice fell to a whisper as he looked around, "I got off early. I was hoping we could eat somewhere," he turned his head behind him and squinted at the bright sunlight, "I got the car ready."

Duo doubted he could have assented quickly enough to his request.

When he finally did peer down the suit's ledge, it was to find a fine mop of unruly brown hair—not a head full of platinum blonde. Heero? What was he doing here?

He slid down the machine as quickly as his years of expertise permitted, wiping at his cheek inordinately, remembering that he always managed to slather himself with grease. "Heero? What's up, man?"

Bright blue eyes looked upwards at him, "I was in the area. Thought maybe we could catch lunch or something. You free?"

Duo looked around, gauging exactly how much his absence would be missed, and took in a deep breath as he smiled. "Sure. Gimme a minute."

Heero gave a nod and watched as the young man made to the eastern wing of the hollow building, tossing his gloves and wriggling out of his overalls. He remained clad in a marred white sleeveless and faded jeans. After a few seconds he was jogging towards him and they were out of the shop.


Heero regarded him as he spoke, taking in his fine, masculine jaw and somewhat pixie nose. He was a paradoxical specimen—feminine and masculine all at the same time. There were aspects of his persona that seemed childish, and others yet that screamed of timed maturity. He liked looking at him.

"….and then I found five dollars."

"Hmm?" Heero's brow wrinkled as he became vaguely aware that Duo was staring at him intently, quite attentive to the fact that he hadn't been listening to what he'd been saying for the past few minutes. "Am I really that interesting?"

"What?"

"My face…is it really that fascinating to you?"

And they were back were they had started. Duo was back to being the flirtatious—if not sensual—individual he'd met at the airport, and he was back to being the surprised, somewhat inexperienced victim. Despite it all, he wasn't hesitant to admit he'd been waiting for the vibrant, exuberating presence he'd met at the spaceport to reemerge.

He might as well take advantage of the opportunity.

"Why did you leave that day, at the spacesport?"

"Why did you stop me?"

"I asked first."

"So you did. Doesn't mean I have to answer first."

"Why don't you just tell me?"

"Why don't you just tell me?"

"Duo—"

The young man sighed, "I just remembered stuff I didn't want to remember. That's all."

"About him. Your 'friend'?"

An awkward silence filled the room. They were in Duo's bedroom—at Trowa's apartment. He'd been staying there for the better part of three months now. Duo nodded as he looked away, "Yeah."

"It gets better if you talk about it." The voice was soft. And something in it suggested it had experienced similar strife.

"What's there to say?" his voice was low—near broken.

And he was surprised when Heero rose from his position by the window and settled himself beside him on the floor. "It's never good to hold it in, Duo. It just festers and rots…and settles."

"I…don't like it."

"Don't like what?" his voice was but a whisper at his side…comforting in ways Duo would have never thought it could be. Heero wasn't the type to be considerate—he wasn't gentle—wasn't tender…and yet here he was pushing his hair away from his face, touching him soothingly...fingertips just barely making contact on his skin.

"…Remembering…remembering everything…"

"Sometimes it's good to remember…you can't let the grief take away the good that happened."

"…It was my fault…"

Chestnut locks shook to and fro as the young man hiccupped, his eyes red-rimmed, streaks of tears staining his pale cheeks. "It was my fault."

A pale, ivory-tinted hand wiped a bead of sweat off a flushed forehead. The tone was affectionate as it teased, "You sweat an awful lot, Duo."

A rich chuckle filled the air, and Duo caught the youth's hand in his own, lips pressed to his fingertips, feeling the blonde shift to accommodate his outstretched hand. The tug had sent Quatre on all fours, and an amused lookovertook his features. "Duo—"

It was said in such a tone as to dissuade him, but it did little but spur him on, "I've missed you."

"Have you?" The young man crawled closer, nursing his hand back to himself with a weary smile. "I'm sorry. Work has kept me busy."

"How old are you again? You act like an old Geezer."

"I'm at the head of my family's estate and business, Duo. I have to be an old, tasteless man. At least I'm not wrinkled."

"That I know."

A faint blush caressed Quatre's cheeks. But it was true…the blonde was anything but old…his skin was smooth—firm, pale all over…defined. And his skin burned beneath Duo's hands whenever they touched—when they made love. He was ebullient youth at its finest. "So…how long till you get off?"

"Give me another hour. I can't completely blow off my job."

The blonde heaved another sigh, this one more petulant than the last. For not seeming wealthy in all his humility and generosity, Quatre certainly had one aspect of his upbringing he hadn't quite conquered, and that was his desire to be catered to at all times. He wasn't malicious about it, and he turned a bright red whenever Duo pointed the fact out, but it was a part of his personality either way.

"All right. I'll be right here. Trying not to distract you with my sexy self."

"That's so characteristic, Quatre. So characteristic."

"What happened next?"

Duo shrugged, eyes focused on the spot on the floor between his knees. "The rigging wasn't tight enough…I don't know…I should have realized—it normally only holds the weight of fifteen people…and he was there that day, and I had lugged up a piece of equipment to finish the work…and I didn't realize—"

"There was an overload." Not a question. Matter-of-fact.

The young man's braid fell forward as he nodded. "And since he was sitting so far away…he couldn't reach for the railing…couldn't reach for me."

"So he fell."

He nodded again, "…Fell down…" the look in those amethyst depths indicated he could see it happening, even then, "…his eyes—he looked…so scared…and—"

Thin shoulders shuddered forward with racking breaths, "And I reached for him, and I let go of the railing…and he seemed even more scared at the fact. And then I don't remember anything…just waking up…and seeing his body…mangled…"

Heero gave an affirming nod as he wrapped his arms about Duo, cradling the trembling man. "I don't…never…"

"It's okay…" his hands rubbed at his back in circles, nuzzling his cheek against the crook of Duo's neck, closing his eyes as the other's trembling increased. "Trowa knows?"

Duo pulled away slightly, rubbing at his eyes, and hiccupped a nod, "He…he was—the only one that I knew." The young man paused, seemingly aware of their position—of how close Heero was to him—of how involved they suddenly were. He smiled a little. "Want some coffee?"

"Thank you."

"No problem," he stood and wiped at his eyes, "hey…you wanna—stay the night?"

He didn't think he'd ever been more sure of his answer, "Yeah."


"You're crazy," Duo grinned as he flopped down beside Heero on the couch, fingers pressing on the remote as he searched for an adequate channel, "using Disney movies to capture a criminal."

"It's called being resourceful," he extended a tan arm towards Duo and dipped his hand into the bowl of popcorn the boy held close.

"Sure Trowa doesn't mind my being here?" he looked behind him as he spoke, thinking he heard the sound of kitchenware clinking.

"Nah…he's downstairs already. Won't be up till three or four in the morning."

"I feel like I'm leeching your supplies."

"Don't worry about it," he slung an arm about Heero's shoulders, "how many times have I abused Wufei's hospitality?"

"Once."

"Yeah, well, what can I say…the guy doesn't like me."

The chestnut-haired man smiled once more, remembering the look on the Chinese man's face when he'd found out Duo had used his toothbrush to scrub the cracks in the bathroom. "You deserved to be kicked out."

"Yeah well…you didn't have to laugh when he did it."

"I've just never seen him so riled up."

"I'm sure."


"Why are we talking about this?"

"Because…I want to know, and you want to tell me. Now go."

Heero shifted uncomfortably, tank rising slightly up his abdomen at the movement. "All right. But you've got to tell me after I'm done."

"Deal."

"My worst sexual misadventure…that'd have to be my boss' daughter."

"What! You?You slept with your boss' daughter!"

The young man glared defensively. "Not this boss. And she damn near raped me."

Duo doubled over with laughter, clutching at his stomach as he rolled off Heero's bed. "Never would have pegged you for that type."

"Your turn."

"My turn?" Duo paused in thought, biting a little at his lower lip, "I've had tons, to be honest. But I guess…" he hesitated momentarily, looking towards Heero uncertainly.

"I told you mine."

Fair enough. Still…The braided man took in a deep breath and closed one eye, glancing at the lounging agent through it, "All right…it was the first time I ever had sex—"

"That's not bad."

"—with a man."

"Oh."

An awkward pause followed. "It was a royal mess. God. Awful," Duo shook his head at the memory, face disgusted, "God…how the hell did it even…I don't know."

His cheeks were flushed, but he managed a slight smile. "I'm sorry if I traumatized you with that."

"Not traumatized," there was a strange expression in Heero's eyes, and his hair tickled at his nose, "my first time was a mess, too."

"Oh?" A raised brow, "Girls can be a little messier." It was matter-of-fact. He knew what he was talking about. His experiences weren't only limited to males.

His expression didn't change, and his tone was deadpan, "I meant men."

Oh. Well then. That changed everything.

"Oh. So you're…"

"Gay."

"Gay. Oh."

"You're not?"

"No, I am."

"Not bi?"

"No. Just gay."

"Gay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."


"It's so nice."

Heero gave a sharp nod, "I used to come out with…friends when I was younger. See the stars. Camp out."

"Younger? How old do you think you are?"

He sighed, "Old enough to know there isn't time for stargazing."

Heero made to turn, prussian gaze already fixed on the house's sliding door, and stopped only when Duo's fingertips tightened around his wrist. "There's always time for something if you want to make it."

"Is there?"

Duo gave a nod, and his fingertips dared to twine about the other man's. "Stay out for a bit…?"

There was a slight hesitance before his fingertips relaxed. "Okay."


"Professor G?"

Heero nodded, strengthening the pressure of his hand against Duo's head, stroking the young man's chestnut tresses, sighing at the pleasurable weight of his body against his, closing his eyes as he breathed in his essence. "What do you want to know?"

"How do you know him?"

Duo sighed, fingertips teasing at the buttons of Heero's shirt, "When I was younger…I stumbled onto him. He was someone willing to offer bread and shelter when I had none."

His fingertips trailed lower, caressing at Duo's nape, feeling the young man's breathing even as he continued, "And…he taught me…what I know today."

"Your scar?" Heero right index drifted further down, between their bodies, outlining the uplifted skin of his healed wound.

Duo shivered, "I told you already."

"They're overlapping?"

Duo stiffened. "What?"

"Your scars. They're overlapping."

"What are you talking about?"

Before he had any other chance to inquire, he found himself on his back, Heero pinning his hands at both sides of his head, glare evident. "That scar of yours, the one you got in that accident…it's only half the story."

Duo looked away at the suggestion, knowing full well that there was more to the story, and shrugged. "So what if it is?"

"How'd you get it?" he eased up at the question, resting back on his haunches and letting Duo sit up.

"You always ask questions."

"And you never do."


He was dead. No more Quatre. No more half-day visits…no more midnight rendezvous…no more violins—no more anything. And it was his fault. Duo rested the heels of his palms against his closed lids, taking in a shuddering breath and vaguely aware of the soft hands at his shoulders, "It'll be okay, Duo. You can stay with me at the house until you sort things out."

Trowa. He'd be lost without him. Duo sighed as he pulled himself upright, managing a watery smile, and shakingly brought his hands together, "Thanks. I've still…got some things I've got to sort through, though."

The tall brunette nodded, squeezing at his friend's shoulder before moving away. Duo was grateful, but in the grand scheme of things, Trowa was but one assuaging presence among many.

"I don't remember how I got it."

"You're lying."

"I'm not."

And he could see it in his eyes; he wasn't lying. He really didn't remember.


He'd awakened at the hospital, a huge uncomfortable bandage across his chest, a vague throbbing sensation at his sternum telling him the injury was more than superficial. He'd tried to move—in vain—and had realized a multitude and variance of tubes were sticking out of random orifices in his body, needles jabbed here and there, the dull beeping of a machine making him all the more aware of his setting.

And that smell of near obsessive cleanliness—of sterilization—it was all about him…he could almost see it, taste it, even…

"Trowa?" his voice was a croak, but the intended looked up, stirring from his position in a nearby chair. A soft smile graced the normally impassive man's face.

"Hey there," his fingertips pressed slightly at the hair about his face, "how you doing?"

"Why…why are we here?"

"You had an accident."

The puzzled look in the man's eyes was met with a similar one, echoed in emerald depths, "We found you at the floor of the shop."


Duo shrugged a little, looking away from Heero, "They found me there. Blood pooled everywhere. They thought I was dead at first, but…they don't know what happened, and neither do I."

Heero frowned and heaved a heavy sigh. "But you're okay now?" he pushed back at the man's bangs, keeping his hand in place so he could have clear access to his violet eyes. Duo shrugged, looking away, shoulders sagging. "I don't think I'll ever be okay…"

The young man frowned a little, pink lips pulled down at the edges, "Never?"

"Never."