The Stylist
Summary: In this chapter, Trowa and Duo get a sample of the very influential stylist, Wufei Chang, in his domain.
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.
Warnings: AU, male/male pairings, language
Chapter Two
Day 1
"This is the place," Trowa said.
Duo pulled up alongside the curb and parked, aligning the old, beat-up car front and center of the upscale shop. He hopped out before Trowa had uncoiled his limbs and locked the door. He was excited and curious and not a little apprehensive.
"Long's- appreciating fashion & beauty as an art. Exclusive, understated, sublime, simple, stylish & unmistakably arty designs."
"I can read the sign as well as you, Maxwell."
"I was hoping you could read it better. What's that word mean?" Duo squinted at the words printed in gold, embellished with swirly scrip and flourishes.
Long's Couture Sartorial has a range of seasonal prêt-à-porter collection, and also a made-to-measure service for the discerning customer who would love to be part of the creative process and own a wearable art.
{A/N: Sartorial means relating to tailoring or clothing in general}
"My French's pretty rusty," Trowa confessed.
"So, you have no idea. That's fair. Okay, tell me, do I want to own a wearable art? Do I?"
"Yes, you do." Trowa tossed him a smile.
"Jesus. I never knew that. And Long's can do that for me. Impressive. What else?"
Long's Make-Up & Styling Service Spa speaks about professional make-up services for the busy man or woman of today who has events to attend and our personal stylist is there to give you a hand to look your best. Workshops to learn advanced make-up and skin care are also available.
"They have 'talking services.' Says there that the services speak," Duo continued reading from the gold script spread over the glass windows.
"That must put them over the top," Trowa said coolly.
He leaned against the wall next to the door. He figured Duo was avoiding going inside, and so he let him waste time in his own manner. He understood. Even he felt anxious to find out what would happen to them past that door. His growing apprehension matched that of anything he'd faced under the big top.
"That and the workshops for skin care. Something like skin shops for work care?"
"Skin shops… yeah. Did I ever tell you about my early years at the Maxwell House for Juvenile Delinquents?" Duo asked.
"Yes, about every day." Trowa smiled slightly to let his friend know he had his support and his back, in case. He was skilled at silent communication.
"It was a character-building experience, which leads into my point. I built a cutting board in their workshop. What do I get out of this place? Skin? Good skin? I got that already."
"You made the cutting board in our kitchen?"
"No, the bottom of a drawer is our cutting board." Duo's face turned wistful for a moment. "I burned the one I made… for heat—it was a cold winter, that one. I figured that's why we made them."
"Poor baby Duo. Check this out. This sounds impressive, listen: Long's Corporate brand conceptualization for corporate identity through uniform design."
"So many big words, I mean, LONG words, heh, heh. Get it? Long's?"
"Long's. Yeah, Duo."
"Think that means they'll dress your employees to match the building?"
"Pretty much. Square glasses like the windows?"
"Reading glasses in rectangular frame only. It's in the specifications. How's that?"
"You got the snob-factor okay. We better go in now. It is 10:00."
By-appointment only
For appointment or enquiries:
Long's Couture Sartorial & Corporate: +25 09428178
Long's Make-Up & Styling Services & Beauty: +25 91450122
Long's Corporate: +25 72037283
"Where are you going, Duo?"
"Dunno. Any place but this place."
"Don't be an idiot. C'mon. If we don't like the setup, we split."
"Okay, 'Tro. First after you."
Peaceful was the interior theme. Soft lighting illuminated the reading areas, the reception desk, and the healthy, ornamental potted plants; authentic Chinese instrumental music could just barely be heard over a babbling water feature, cascading from a hidden recess in the ceiling, falling into a copper catch basin; carved, rosewood chairs with velvet green cushions appeared to grow alongside antique pewter side tables, some with polished stone tops and others with clear glass and each with a fan of spa literature and fashion magazines.
"Posh place," Trowa observed.
'As expected," Duo replied. "Check out the skeletal chick at the desk."
"Not my usual mark, Duo."
"Would it be cruel to wave a hamburger under her nose?"
"Hn. Yeah, she's pretty skinny."
The receptionist greeted them with a frail voice, "May I help you?"
"She speaks!" Duo said, turning on his charm and smiling warmly as he leaned over her oil-rubbed, rare rainforest-wood-topped desk. "Hi. We're Duo and Trowa and we have an appointment here to see, ah—"
"- Mister Chang," Trowa supplied.
"Are you an act?" Her eyes took on that faraway, dreamy look.
"We could be," Duo purred.
"Are you?" Trowa put in.
"No, I'm sorry. I meant that 'Duo and Trowa' sounds like a band or something. Sorry."
"No problemo," Duo said, breezy as could be. "Forgiveness granted."
She giggled. "Let me see if Mr Chang is ready for you." A few clickity clicks on a small device and she got her answer. "Yes, I'll show you in."
"That door?" Duo asked, pointing to the one behind the reception desk. "No, don't get up. We can open a door. Thanks, darlin'."
The large door, carved with a Chinese dragon motif, blackened with time and wax, opened into a room with lights on mechanical arms, shelves and shelves of leather-bound books; that's what they could see first. The door blocked the other side of the room, and it was from there that a voice was heard.
"Meiran, would you bring some tea-?" There was a pause. "Where's-?"
Trowa pushed in the door all the way, revealing Chang Wufei seated behind a wide desk stacked with piles of folders.
"Duo Maxwell and Trowa Barton," the stylist intoned, his eyebrows drawn together into a frown.
"In the flesh. We let ourselves in and don't need no tea. Cool digs, right, Tro'?"
"I'm chillin'."
"Please take a chair. I had my assistant, Miss Po, draw up these modified modeling contracts. I think all the essential details have been covered, but if you would read them over, I'll review the highlights before we sign."
Trowa weighed his document pile on the palm of his hand. As if questioning the stylist, he raised the one visible eyebrow, the other lost behind a fringe of bangs. "Five pages?"
Duo shook his head, a vision of sorrow as he flipped through the pages. "No pictures, ma-aan…"
"I haven't read a book this long in ages," Trowa lamented.
Duo scattered papers across the desk, then asked, "The tall, blond dude wanted to see us un-clothed. You're okay to skip that?"
"I—" Wufei had been about to stop their annoying banter, when it sounded like they were getting down to business—finally. "-I don't really care about the swimsuit side of the job," Wufei said tartly. "And I can tell you are both… well-built even under those… clothes."
"Really?" Trowa let a smile spread over his face.
His angular face is going to be so photogenic, especially when a smile lit it up. The thought drew a blush, which Wufei hid with a sudden move to retrieve a dropped pen. It wasn't as if Wufei was attracted to these beautiful young men. Not at all. So uncouth! However, despite their lack of refinement, he could appreciate the finer things in life, and two fine specimens of manhood were seated an arm's length away. The blush response was completely out of his control.
There was a delicate knock on the door.
"Meiran?" asked Wufei, his voice raspy. I should have demanded that tea earlier!
"I'm sorry to interrupt you, but you asked to see the mock-ups for the OZ order before Miss Po signs off on them."
"Yes. I did." To Trowa, sitting closest, he said, "Excuse me a moment."
"Hey, can we look?" Without waiting, Duo reached across the desk, his hand brushing over Wufei's, eliciting a gasp of surprise. He lifted the pictures off the top. "Eew! Trowa, what's that remind you of?"
Trowa examined the design draft from several angles, Duo turning it around and around. "Something, uh, puritanical. . . A sleeveless goat's-hair coat?"
Duo broke into a gratified smile. "On the nail!"
"It's cashmere!" Wufei said with a shout while reaching for his papers. "- which, well, it is a type of goat, I suppose. Now, you have your contracts to read, so let me look these over alone for just a minute."
Duo patted his arm offering Wufei the sympathy he did NOT want, and continued to offer his insights, "The problem with some of these fashion people is that they need editors. Ah, fuck! Willya lookit this one! It says: MAKE A DIFFERENCE."
Trowa looked at the pictured faded green serape-like cape. "It certainly isn't making any difference to me."
"Aw, c'mon, 'Tro, not the army blanket. This!" Duo thrust a different design in his friend's face, for all appearances completely offended. "A sexy party dress worn with riding boots ? Bad, bad, BAD idea. You want to SEE her legs! Like mine!"
Wufei fell back, arms raised to fend off Duo's long, jeans-clad leg landing on his desk. "Maxwell!"
"Endless legs! Not nasty ole boots that say 'I'm tough'." Having made his point, Duo pulled his leg back and settled down. He continued on, aloof to Wufei's wounded expression and Trowa's amused one.
"Oh, baby! Ooh, bad. . . . I don't understand these clothes at all. A strapless, taffeta ball gown with a goat-hair, er, make that a cashmere muffler. Now that looks like something her mother would make her wear."
"You can wear the revealing strapless dress only if you wear your grandma's scarf!" Trowa said in a falsetto voice, playing into Duo's remarks like a true friend would.
"That's right. So you don't catch cold."
"That's enough! " Wufei barked. He slammed both hands down on the desk top, rattling the pen holder. His pen hopped out and rolled to the edge and fell. "Shut up! Leave my papers alone and here- read your contracts."
"Spoilsport." Both young men said it at the same time.
Duo added in a whisper, "That's how his pen got there before, you reckon?"
Trowa nodded solemnly. "Anger management issues, I'm sad to say."
Wufei's face darkened, making it clear he could just barely tamp down his anger. "And keep your adolescent opinions to yourselves. You haven't any idea what current fashion is or what the future will be!"
Duo stared up at the ceiling counting off the number of times the fan revolved in thirty seconds. "Just cuz we don't have credentials don't mean we don't have taste."
Wufei climbed on his academic high horse. "Yes, it does. There is an art to putting together the right outfit for the right occasion. The best clothes do more than cover. They express the wearer's personality and style. They make good first impressions and boost self-confidence. Good fashion stylists know how to bring out the best in the people they dress and the clothes they choose. The best stylists elevate their clients to star status. That is what I shall do for you."
"Ha! The fuck you are!" Duo said, wiping the smug expression off Wufei's face.
"He can try, Duo."
"READ the contract and CLOSE your mouths!"
"Geez…" Duo turned his document pile upside down. "Your fan is out of balance. I can fix that, if you want."
Wufei's eyes glanced skyward. The fan blades whipped around and wobbled. Never noticeable before, now it would annoy him. "Later," he said.
Trowa poked a finger at one page. "Says 'room and board'. We got a place already."
"Mr. Barton. During your… training period, I need you close at hand at all times. Your diet must be controlled, your workouts, sleep cycles—"
"We gotta sleep on bikes? Aw, man…" Duo said in a whisper just loud enough that Wufei could hear it.
"-all established precisely and monitored," Wufei finished in a louder no-nonsense voice.
Duo opened his mouth—possibly to deliver another droll one-liner- but Trowa cut him off before Mr. Chang truly lost his temper and kicked them out. He didn't believe he and Duo were irreplaceable, and he wanted this chance to improve his, really, both of their, circumstances.
"Duo, no." Trowa drew a deep breath. "Um, okay, I want to see this 'room' where we stay first."
"I've already arranged for you to see your new residence, after which we'll have lunch and return here."
"You seem pretty sure of yourself, Mr. Chang."
"Yes, Barton, I am."
"He's the fucking stylist to the stars. It says so on this magazine cover he's got framed on the wall." Duo was laughing at the stuck up man.
"Maxwell! Out!" Wufei shouted, standing and pointing at the door.
Trowa rose slowly. "Touchy."
Duo considered what he said next then grinned. "I kinda like him, though."
(o)
The "room" was an entire residence suite of rooms in the same building housing Long's Couture Sartorial . They took the elevator up and were immediately impressed. Both men were provided a private bedroom, bath, and sitting room. They would share a kitchen and living room. One wall of glass provided a spectacular view of the city of Sanc. The place was so great, neither man had a smart aleck comment to make. It was awarded the Barton-Maxwell seal of approval, and the trio continued on to a nearby Thai restaurant for lunch.
"Is everything all right, Maxwell?" Wufei asked. "You are awfully quiet, for a change."
"You introduced food into the equation. His mouth's full."
"Doesn't stop you from answering for him, Barton."
"Just 'splaining."
"Done!" Duo announced, watching Wufei sign the payment tab. "Great lunch. Snazzy place. Everything's peachy-keen. Listen, I'm not stupid. I'm not!"
"Chang didn't say you were, Duo."
"He was thinking it hard." Duo focused on Wufei and said, " 'Sides, if it sounds too good to be true, it is."
"Maxwell, lower your voice," Chang led them back to the walkway. "I can assure you I think you have the potential to be anything I can make you."
They walked back the few blocks in silence, thinking everything over. Once they reached Long's building, Wufei herded them to his office.
"I'd like to get started immediately," he said, "so if you have any questions, let me answer them now."
"That suite with a view has got to cost you a mint, plus while we play-act trend setters we gotta eat, and you pay for that, and all our clothes?" Duo said. "That's a chunk of money and a lot of work for you. You can get your jollies off donating to charity. What's your angle?"
"My angle?" Wufei sat back, tenting his hands and considering what to say next. "How do I put this…? All right. You want to know why I accepted this challenge. What Zechs Merquise told you was the truth- it's a bet. I took it on because I felt bored." And misspoke and let things get out of hand.
"Stakes?" Trowa asked.
"That's not important. A minor expense on the part of the loser."
"Hedgy answer," Duo mock-whispered behind a hand. "I think he's holding out on us."
"Agreed, but then, do you really want to know what motivates these doofuses? I don't." Trowa looked up a Wufei and said, "I do want my flute, which is back at my apartment. It's a musical instrument," Trowa added to be clear.
"Our apartment," Duo said, emphasis on the 'our'. "We share. As in roommates with our own rooms, if you get the picture. Nothing romantic."
"Perfectly platonic," Trowa said.
"Cool," Duo said approvingly. "So, Wufei, what happens to all our stuff in our actual apartment- which we share and which also has separate bedrooms, but just the one bathroom—you know, while were gone? The place'll get ripped off if we're not there."
"Have no worries," Wufei assured him. He was feeling good, in control, practically blissful. "I have thought of everything. Your belongings will be packed, stored, and your apartment closed."
"Ah, I'd like to hold onto the place. Hard to get a month-to-month that cheap." Duo liked being contrary just to rile the proud man.
"We want the rent paid up for us."
"Ooh, that's good, Tro'."
"If you both insist, all right. I'll add that to the contract. I've arranged transportation for you. Just give the driver your address, and the car will take you where you can collect a few personal items, like your instrument."
"My flute."
"Yes, but not much more. New toiletries, towels, clothing, all your needs will be supplied by me. Oh, and no alcohol or drugs, legal or not, without my approval."
"Hope you're more fun at night than you are during the day."
"What was that, Maxwell?"
"Nothing. Okay-dokey! Let's get this freak show on the road."
"I'm cool with it. Sure. Got nothing to lose."
"Not with everything packed! Heh, heh…. C'mon, smile, Wu-man, this is gonna be fun. We're gonna win you that-? Whatchu say you were gonna win? Your prize?"
"I didn't."
Duo's eye widened with surprise and then he broke into a laugh. "Ha ha! I take back what I said. I like you plenty now!"
"Leave!" Wufei shouted.
He shut the office door behind them. He was sure now that this wasn't the same boy with a long braid he'd met in a prison many years ago. That one had been quieter and serious. And Duo certainly didn't act as if he recognized him either. So it was just coincidence. Just as well. He smiled and shook his head.
"I'm going to lose so badly."
(o)
A company limousine waited out front, behind the car Trowa had parked earlier. They argued over taking the limo or the clunker and decided the limo would be better because they had a really fine parking space. They could deal with their car later. Now was the time to go to their old apartment and choose a few keepsakes to bring back with them.
"Keep that! Yeah, it's mine. I might wanna boil water innit sometime!"
"Duo, let it go. Even I wouldn't trust the water boiled in that rusty pot."
"Yer acting like yer not comin' back here."
"Like as not, but if Chang pulls off his plan, I'm betting we can snag us some uptown connections."
"You okay being someone's boy toy, Tro'? I thought you were aiming higher than that."
"If the player's who I'm contemplating, he'll be rich enough to land me a job and a nice place to live—yeah, I can settle for that. High enough."
"Oh. Aim high."
"I do."
"Okay. Guess I could do something similar, but I'd hate to give up my independence."
"The freedom to starve?"
"The right to do what I wanna."
"Like starve."
"Like—aw, shit. We don't need to hold onto this place, do we?"
"No. We do not. We'll let Chang know."
"He'll be thrilled to know we ain't got nothin' to go back to."
"He might be, or he might see us as serious."
"Are we?" Duo asked, grinning and filled with good spirits.
"Not really. Just desperate."
"Duo and Trowa—two desperados. Hey, now we do sound like a band."
"Country?"
"Sure, why not?"
"You don't listen to country."
"I don't need to. I am country."
"You are nuts. Hey, I got my flute. Taking anything with you?"
"Why bother? I can't wear it or eat it or Charm-Fu will take it away."
"Your CD's?"
"Naw, player's broke, besides. I'm a country singer. Wanna hear?"
"Maybe later."
"Let's find the limo-zeen and ride back?"
"Let's avoid the limo and walk to the bus stop. I wanna drop by Catherine's and let her know I'll be out of touch for a while. Miss the circus start up, possibly… hopefully."
"Oh, yeah. Guess I should mention to Howard how I won't be working in the shop for a while. Okay. Walk we shall."
"Don't want to crowd Chang with our problems."
"Good thinking, Tro'."
"Someone's gotta do it."
(o) And the hours passed pleasantly, for some, and less so for others.
Meiran waved from where she stood, nose pressed to the gold lettered window of the Long's building. "Here they come, Mr. Chang! They're walking!"
"It's about time! Maxwell! Barton! Where have you been? I was about to give up on the entire project when the driver said you had disappeared." He led them back into his office and indicated that they should sit.
Trowa did. Duo did not.
"First off," Duo said, ticking off a count down on his fingers as he circled the desk. "We didn't disappear, even though Trowa here can. He's a clown at the circus in season—"
"—acrobat clown."
"- which right now it's not. Wanna demo?"
"No, I do not!" Wufei snapped. "What I want to know is-!"
"-Second, we've just been letting our bosses know we would be busy for some undesignated amount of time. You see, when we're not parking cars, we do other work. I fix cars."
"That's perfectly understandable," Wufei granted Duo. "And I remember you telling me that. You had only to inform the driver and he would have contacted me. But instead-"
"-And thirdly," Duo sank onto Trowa's thighs, wrapping an arm around his neck. "I am on number three, right?"
"Number three, that's me. Now, get off my lap."
Trowa gave Duo a push to get him started. They exchanged weird unreadable expressions. Number three? Duo recovered first and carried on in the same vein as earlier.
"Right. Thirdly, if that's all it takes to make you give up on us, then you ain't gotta chance in hell making us over into model citizens."
"That's just models, Duo."
"Or whatever. You didn't look like a weakling."
"I AM NOT WEAK!" Wufei squawked, offended.
"Geez, Louise! Yer voice sure as hell's not weak. Hey, you could be our lead singer. Whatcher think, Tro'?"
"He could do high harmony."
"What are you two talking about?" Wufei asked, weariness coming through in his tone.
"Our band. Meiran suggested it. Thought we could go country. You yodel, too? 'Cause that would clinch it good, I think."
"Guarantee an audience," Trowa agreed.
"I am not singing in a country band, and nor are you. Now be serious. If you are ready to become transformed into new men with a future, we can get started immediately." Wufei was on a roll now. He felt the controls in his hands. The engine throbbing with power. The goal, sighted in the distance. And yet… "What's wrong now, Maxwell?"
"I'm just missing my career." Duo sighed dramatically. "Never really gave it a chance. I could have been somebody."
"Buck up, Duo," Trowa said with a tiny smile trying to sweep across his countenance. "He's promising to make you into a real boy. It is in the contract."
"Damn." Duo shook his head, a smile growing larger on his face. "I won't let you down."
"Is that so? No more clowning around—" Wufei said, trying to call them to order. Order out of chaos.
"Um, the clown's me," Trowa said, raising a hand, "and I've been pretty quiet."
"All right. What was I going to say?" Wufei muttered, gathering his thoughts. The two men in his office were so distracting—funny and charming, and good looking…frustrating… "Oh, yes. While you were out, I had the clause added concerning the old apartment."
"We changed our minds about that," Duo said airily.
"Shows we're serious," Trowa added.
"Serious?" Sigh. "You don't want me to continue payment on your old apartment then?"
Trowa nodded his head. "Not necessary."
"Fine. I'll just cross that out and have you initial it."
"Oh, one more thing you outta know."
"What's that, Maxwell? No, don't tell me. Let me guess. You were once in a mental hospital?"
"No, no, nothing like that. Now I feel like I've been insulted." Duo turned to Trowa. "He insulted me, didn't he?"
With a straight face, Trowa answered as if what he had to say was cloaked in secrecy. "He doesn't know you like I do. I think he was just collecting background for our bios—in preparation for the future media frenzy."
"Yeah? I think you give Wufei here too much credit. Anyway… I just thought I should tell you, in case there was any question, 'cause I wouldn't want it to come up and bite me in the ass—"
"WHAT IS IT?!" Wufei shouted, short temper tromping his self-control, again.
Duo replied, "I'm gay."
"Gay?" Wufei repeated, just to be sure he had heard correctly.
"Shhh! It would kill mother if she knew."
"It's perfectly all right with me," Wufei confided. "I'm sure your mother would understand—"
"I'll tell her tonight, heh, heh…"
"Maxwell-!"
"C'mon, Fei-man. Just pulling your leg. I'm not giving away any big secrets here. We're both gay—that's the truth, but my folk's are all dead –"
"—mine, too, though I have a sister, just so you know in case you need to notify my next of kin—" Trowa inserted and then twitched a tiny smile on one side of his mouth.
"-so it don't matter," Duo chattered on, " 'cept I guess Howard might like to know if I die or something. Is there some form to fill out?"
"I'll ask my assistant. Don't die before then." Wufei smiled benignly then rested his head on his folded arms.
"Okay. Where do I sign?"
Wufei lifted his head off the desk. "I'm going to regret this, but here, and here."
Duo and Trowa busied themselves scrawling their signatures on the dotted lines.
"That it?" Trowa asked to know where they stood.
"Not quite. I would like a few 'before' pictures," Wufei said. He typed a message on small handheld device and waited for a reply. "Good. My office assistant, Meiran, is also a photographer. She will take care what we need immediately." He waved the two men to the far side of the room where the spotlights were stored. "This won't take long and you don't need to do anything until she tells you to, understand?"
"In these clothes?" Duo asked, picking at his loosely-worn shirt with the sleeves rolled to expose his toned forearms.
Wufei scowled and directed him across the room. "Yes."
Trowa tugged at his friend's elbow. "The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we get it done."
"That's so droll," Duo said with a shake of his head, but did as he had been told and stepped up onto the small stage. "Now what?"
Meiran adjusted the lighting, posed his arms, torso and head to capture his current appearance from various angles. Trowa was next, taking off his shirt because he was hot, and showing off his sinewy muscles under the snug t-shirt. She worked quickly and professionally, snapping pictures, tilting his head just so, until she declared the task "done."
But they weren't done. Duo insisted on a few pictures together with funny faces and even one with Wufei, their "hero."
Wufei thanked her and returned to his desk. "Before you go to bed tonight… Move that monstrosity of a car out front before it frightens away my clientele."
"Monstro-!"
Standing nearly toe-to-toe, Wufei found he was only slightly shorter than Duo. Slightly. He stared down Duo, who clamped his mouth shut. With that success under his belt, Wufei gave a triumphant look, and then continued with his instructions. "Park in the garage accessible from the back of the building. Your suite keys operate the elevator to your floor. But—"
"Can we-?"
Wufei stopped him again with a withering glance. "But, do not go there. You haven't access to your rooms yet. Take the lobby lift to the spa. You are expected. While you are treated to… the best services we have to offer, your rooms will be readied for you to move in. Do not go to your rooms first or you will miss your spa appointments and be left standing in the hallway while others do their jobs. Is that clear?"
Duo nodded.
Trowa had nothing to say either.
"Good." Wufei smiled a secret little smile and signaled that he was done with them, shooing them toward the carved office door. "Enjoy your time in the spa. You won't regret it. Have a good day. We will meet again tomorrow morning. 10:00 sharp."
"What about dinner?" Duo asked, not quite talked out.
"Dinner?" Wufei pulled out his wallet and tossed a couple bills across his desk. "Here. I'm certain you will find something that suits your taste. I recommend the Italian place at the corner."
"Thanks," Trowa said, returning to the desk in a couple, long strides and scooping up the money.
Duo was out the door, putting some distance between them and the stylist before he whispered confidentially to his friend, "I'm not sure if I like this bossy side of him as much as the hot firebrand."
"I have a hunch that we'll probably like him less tomorrow."
(o)
Wufei Chang was on his second attempt, trying to choose the right words to convey his feelings to Zechs Merquise on his upcoming suggested color palate. He must emphasize that the army green (no, scratch that- drat that Maxwell!) the sage green was too drab, especially when paired with that dowdy peachy color. His receptionist's call interrupted his note writing.
"Who's here? Very well, offer them tea. I'll be out immediately."
Wufei was pleased to welcome two of his favorite clients. Quatre Winner, the young CEO of Winner Corp, Hotel division, he had seen the night before. The stylist held him essentially responsible for bringing both Maxwell and Barton to his notice. Accompanying the businessman, Heero Yuy, the Prime Minister's nerdy head of security, was a rare site anywhere. The man was far too immersed in his duties than was good for him. He and Yuy were friends, but not as close as he was with Winner.
For a moment, Wufei grew misty-eyed wondering if his two clients had become more than friends, then mentally slapped himself for being so overly romantic. Fool!
"Wufei!" Quatre called in delight. "I brought Heero along. We are both eager to know how the bet turned out."
The stylist shook their hands in turn. "It was agreed upon. I think it will be a challenge transforming both those men into—"
"—into the most eligible bachelors in the kingdom!" Quatre exclaimed. "But I know you like to show off how awfully skilled you are at your craft."
"There's no need to patronize me, Winner," Wufei said. He added a smile to show he understood the humor in his situation. "I know I'm good and I don't mind showing off, but there's more to it this time than just clothes."
"Of course! Where are they now? Can we see them?"
Wufei checked his PDA. "Soon… soon… running a little behind, some hitch in the hair salon, but pedicures are under way." Which wouldn't happen if Miss Po were here to watch over every detail for me. Sigh. The research she was collecting was important, though. And she would be back soon. Soon.
"I don't want to wait around." Heero folded his arms across his chest. "I don't see what the fuss is all about."
Wufei took offense, immediately. "The job of a stylist begins with knowing every collection from every fashion house like it is the back of your hand, and that isn't going to automatically translate into being 'one up' in the fashion ladder. I must pick and choose the best, like Treize Khushrenada, and more specifically his reliance on Zechs' taste." He took a breath.
"I wasn't referring to your work," Heero retorted. "Winner dragged me here to see two men he's all excited about. I doubt they are who he suspects they are. Even Zechs called Relena last night, rambling on about a bet, and cajoling her into getting me to 'look into it'." He scowled at Winner. "So I ask, why should I care?"
"Multiple reasons." Wufei pushed a file folder across his desk and flipped it open. "What do you think?"
Heero's scrutiny intensified as he studied the fashion design drafts Duo and Trowa had critiqued earlier. "I'm not knowledgeable enough about women's party clothes to comment."
Wufei smiled with satisfaction. "Precisely. You are aware of your limitations. Maxwell and Barton were sitting where you are now when these were delivered, and felt the need to comment freely."
"I'll bet they had fun," Winner said, chuckling.
Wufei told them the gist of the comments, sending Quatre into breathless laughter. "G-goat hair!"
Heero's expression softened fractionally.
"Glad you find them so amusing, Winner. My point is that while they were completely unaware of the 'official realms' of fashion, they had an instinctiveness about them that can't be explained. From their observations, it was obvious that they knew how to put different shirts together and make some combos work- but it wasn't because they were shackled with catwalk knowledge. That fascinates me."
"Are you sure that's all?" Winner teased. "Aren't the handsome young men tantalizing?"
Wufei ignored the provoking comment.
Winner smiled, pleased, and flipped to another design. "In the show, those white specs were very on-trend."
"Oh, I don't know how on-trend they are for this summer—all sunglasses are popular. Someone did tell me they were a bit 'Kurt Cobain meets Marc Jacobs'. I pretended to know what they were talking about, but personally, I think Merquise is trying too hard." Or not hard enough. "The thought wouldn't have crossed my mind had I not taken a second look after thinking over what he and Barton had said. See? Maxwell has infiltrated my mind."
"Are you sure that's all?" Quatre said, barely containing his laughter. "Corrupted it too?"
"Wipe that knowing smile off your face. You'd understand if you spent some time with them." Wufei gathered the designs and drew out the photo shoots Meiran had taken earlier. "Here, I'd like your impressions. These were taken first thing this morning."
Quatre dove for the pile featuring Trowa. "Ooooh, he's built, isn't he?"
"Mr. Barton? Yes. He works at the circus, in season. I looked up his sister; he listed her as his next of kin—don't get me started on that! Catherine Bloom of the Bloom and Bailey Circus. Yes, that one. Anyway, he's a natural. Has that aloof look down pat already."
Wufei paused and began a one-way, scholarly discussion.
"Totally existential, really, how that stage look came about. Everybody fed off that. Deconstructed clothes, not looking like you were filthy rich. And that was all added to by the posture on stage - you never looked at the audience, you only looked at your feet. You might occasionally raise an eyebrow. And it was all the idea, the effect of looking bored. It was all part of that existential thing that came through Albert Camus and the cafes of Saint Germain. Paris was far more responsible than anybody imagines."
"Years ago, the models were all pizzazz: 'Hey, look at me, I'm a star!' Then it became, 'Don't look at me - I'm bored even being here.' Cartoon versions of the existentialists."
He looked up and noticed his clients' glazed over eyes and apologized for ranting on.
"You should be lecturing at the university," Heero said, sharing his observation aloud. Before Wufei could comment, Heero pointed at Duo's photograph. "This is Maxwell?"
"Duo Maxwell. He is a…handful. Very passionate. His feelings pass across his face and he hides very little. Jarring at times, boisterous even. Funny."
Heero studied the pictures carefully, frowning at each one. "This one worked at a circus?"
"Trowa Barton, yes," answered Wufei.
Holding one of Duo's close-ups, he remarked, "He…He's—"
"Oh, Heero, be nice. These are the before shots, remember?" Quatre interrupted.
"He's rough, I know. If I can convince him to drop twenty pounds—"
Heero's countenance darkened further. "He'd be a waif!"
"Precisely!" Wufei smiled, thankful someone could see his point of view. "There's a growing market for the feminized, beautiful-boy look, especially overseas."
Meiran chose that moment to knock on the office door. "Am I intruding, sir?"
"Not at all," he told her. "Gentlemen, Meiran needs to prepare for another round of photographs. Maxwell and Barton are in the elevator. Why don't we step out into the lobby and you can see for yourself what just one afternoon can do for them?"
TBC