Warnings: Angst, violence, language, drug use, abuse, supernatural things, sex, yaoi, yuri, het.
Warning for Chapters Eight and Nine: Reference to non-con. Nothing graphic, nothing… concrete. Just some references. I promise everything will be okay.
A/N: Based on Misfits, but draws from X-Men, Smallville, and Heroes as well. These kids aren't the complete burnouts that the Misfits are, but they are NOT perfect angels. Be warned.
A/N #2: Thanks to the always amazing Cuzo, more than a beta and no less than a friend.
A/N#3: Kind of an anti-Valentine's Day gift to all of my dear readers. This chapter is not filled with warm fuzzies - quite the opposite in fact. Sorry. But I DO love all of you for taking the time to read my work!
Deviant
Chapter Eight
Only one more time, Trant assured himself as he walked into the police station on Saturday morning. After today, he only had to come back to this hell hole one more time and then he was done.
He hated it here, hated the people, hated the stupid little police station, and hated the stupid chores they expected him to do.
All of it was ridiculous and a waste of his time.
Trant didn't belong here, not with these losers, and not dressed in an orange jumpsuit picking up garbage from the side of the road when he should be in his soccer uniform playing in a game.
But instead he was here.
When he walked into the locker room he saw that most of the other guys were already there in the process of changing.
Against his will, Trant's eyes sought out Duo.
The townie had stripped down to his boxers and was in the process of pulling up the legs of his jumpsuit.
Trant hated looking at him, but the sight of Duo's lean body was impossible to turn away from.
Duo caught him looking and sneered.
"Show's over," Duo snapped as he zipped the suit up to his neck.
Trant's fists clenched at his sides but he turned away and went to his own locker to change.
One more time, he promised himself. Just today and then once more and he would hopefully never see Duo Maxwell or his half naked body again.
When they gathered in the briefing room at nine Trant found it curious that Duo sat by himself near the back of the room instead of attached to Hilde's side as he usually was.
"Today you're going to be sorting through the donations for the homeless shelter. There's food, books, toys, and clothes that you need to go through. Get rid of the dirty things or the junk and box up the clean, good items." Dorothy glared at each of them in turn, as if daring one of them to argue about the assignment.
Trant didn't care. This wasn't any more or less ridiculous than anything else they had been given to do.
"All of the donations are in the back warehouse. I'll take you out there in a moment. But first, I'd like to say that I am done putting up with your laziness. You will work hard today and you will finish your tasks. If you don't I will be adding extra hours on to your service."
Trant swallowed hard. It was definitely beneath him to be here, but there was no way he would risk having to come another Saturday and miss even more of the soccer season.
"I'm putting you into pairs to work on things. If you don't finish, then both you and your partner will be held accountable."
Great, Trant thought, which of these reprobates am I going to have to put up with now?
"Hilde and Relena, you will sort the toys. Quatre and Wufei, the books. Trowa and Heero, the food. Trant and Duo will sort the clothes."
"I'll switch with Duo," Hilde and Trowa both said.
Trant turned to glare at them and was surprised to find Duo doing the same.
"Fuck you both," Duo muttered. "I don't need to switch."
Dorothy cleared her throat.
"Well, if that's settled, let me take you back to the warehouse."
They rose and followed her from the room.
The warehouse was nearly empty except for the enormous piles of boxes overflowing with food, books, toys, and clothes in each of the corners of the room.
"What the fuck?" Duo asked. "Have you been saving this shit for the last ten years?"
Trant silently agreed with his assessment. The piles were huge. There was no way they could get through everything.
"I suggest you get to work," Dorothy said with a smirk and gestured them towards the piles.
"Fucking bullshit," Duo muttered as he started towards the pile of clothes.
Trant followed and found himself admiring Duo's ass in the jumpsuit as he walked.
He caught himself and felt a wave of revulsion for himself and for Duo. This was disgusting. He needed to stop looking at Duo, to stop thinking about him, and to get the hell out of this place.
Duo immediately started to pull clothes from the pile and sort through them, ignoring Trant and everyone else.
Hilde walked over and put a hand on Duo's shoulder.
"Duo –"
He shrugged her off.
"You should get to work, Hilde," he said to her, a cold look in his eyes.
She sighed and walked away, her shoulders slumped in defeat.
"Trouble in paradise?" Trant taunted.
"Go fuck yourself," Duo muttered and went back to work.
Trant shoved him into the pile of musty clothes and walked around to the other side. At least the piles were high enough that he didn't have to look at Duo anymore.
After lunch, they had made enough of a dent in the pile that Trant now had to look at Duo. Each time he stood up and caught sight of Duo's scowling face and his long braid of hair Trant was filled with anger.
Why did he have to go through this ridiculous punishment? It was Duo's fault he was even in here in the first place – and now he was stuck working with him, having to look at him.
Duo clearly didn't feel the urge to look at Trant, though.
Every time he stood up after reaching for a piece of clothing his eyes would drift over to the pile of food and to Trowa.
Trant saw Trowa looking in Duo's direction several times as well, and he thought the entire thing was pathetic. Duo was pathetic. Trowa was pathetic. They were all pathetic.
"So you're fucking him?" Trant asked when Duo looked over at Trowa yet again.
Duo glared at Trant but remained silent.
"Of course you are. You're a fucking whore. You'd fuck anyone."
"Not you," Duo muttered.
"Not me but that freak?"
"He's not a freak," Duo snapped.
Trant scowled.
"Compared to you, I guess not. But compared to me and other normal people, he's a fucking freak."
Trant had had a class with Trowa last semester. The man was practically mute, and it was creepy. He also walked around looking like he wanted to kill himself most of the time, and Trant found that to be both pathetic and irritating.
Still, knowing that Trowa, pathetic and creepy as he was, was fucking Duo when the braided man wouldn't even give Trant the time of day was annoying.
Trant couldn't believe that Duo would prefer that to him.
He also couldn't believe that his mind refused to think about anything other than mental images of Duo naked.
Trant wanted to lash out at Duo, to punish him for putting such filthy pictures in his head, but before he could think of what to do, the two new cops from last Saturday walked into the warehouse.
"Which one of you is Trant Clark?" The long haired man called out.
Everyone looked at Trant.
The two cops approached.
"We need to ask you a few questions."
Duo sneered.
"Careful, officers. Don't let him bite you – he's rabid."
Trant glared at him but Duo just waved jauntily.
"Keep him as long as you can!" Duo called out as Trant followed the cops from the warehouse.
They led him to the cubicle that had been Une's office, where they had discovered the list of crimes that had sentenced each of them to community service.
"Sit," the woman said and gestured to the one chair in the office. She leaned back against the desk, while the man took up a position near one of the closed doors.
Trant sat down uneasily.
"I'm Detective Noin, and this is Detective Merquise. We've been called in to assist with a few local investigations."
"That wasn't a question," Trant told her.
She rolled her eyes and shot Merquise an annoyed look before continuing.
"When did you last see Sergeant Une?"
Trant had been wondering when anyone would get around to questioning them. It had been a week since her disappearance, after all.
He shrugged.
"Last Saturday."
"When last Saturday?" Noin pressed.
"In the morning. She never came to pick us up."
Trant had spent hours debating with himself whether or not to turn the others in for killing the crazy bitch. He hadn't done anything to her – but he didn't trust the other seven not to lie and say that he had killed her. And with Relena and Quatre's connections it didn't take a genius to figure out who would be believed if they claimed that he was responsible for her death.
"Hm. So how did you get back to the station?"
"We walked."
Noin nodded.
"You were convicted of disorderly conduct," Noin said, "but the file reads more like an assault charge."
Trant shrugged. He knew that his standing as a Clarkson College student, combined with his athletic record and his job as an RA had likely bought him a reduced charge.
"Do you have a history of violence?" Noin asked, a note of concern in her voice.
Trant sneered.
"Obviously not."
"Obviously," she agreed with a nod.
Noin and Merquise exchanged looks, but the blonde man shrugged and Noin stood back up.
"Alright, you can go back to work."
"That's it?" Trant asked.
Noin smirked.
"Sure. Unless you have something you want to tell us?"
"Yeah, I think all of this is bullshit."
Noin's eyes narrowed.
"Then try not to pick fights in public bars."
Trant bit back his urge to tell her off and instead stood up.
"Thanks for the break," he muttered and then stalked back to the warehouse.
Duo was still diligently working on the pile of clothes, and the others were focused on their work as well.
"What did you tell them?" Duo asked when Trant came back to the pile.
"About what?" Trant demanded.
Duo rolled his eyes.
"They asked you about Une, right?"
Trant scowled.
"You've already talked to them."
"Yeah, they came by Joe's Thursday morning."
"What did you tell them?" Trant asked.
Duo smirked.
"I told them that you killed her and torched her body in the dumpster with the other furniture."
"You mother fucking asshole!" Trant grabbed Duo by the collar of his jumpsuit and threw him down on the hard concrete floor.
He leaned back to kick Duo but the other man rolled away, his reflexes shockingly quick.
Trant tried to punch him, but Duo dodged it with a grin.
"Chill out, you moron. I was fucking joking. I didn't tell them anything."
It took a moment for Trant to get his breathing under control and to calm himself down. It didn't help that Duo shook his head and immediately went back to work, that shit eating grin still on his face.
Trant wanted to punch Duo until he stopped smirking like that, and he wanted to never have to look at him or think about him again.
One more time, Trant reminded himself and went back to sorting the clothes, keeping as much distance between himself and Duo as he could.
One more time.
-0-
After practice on Friday Trant found himself more than usually frustrated.
The coach had decided to pull a few strings and get Quatre out of his last day of community service the next day so that the starting forward could play in the game against Berry. Trant, however, would still have to go. Apparently Coach H didn't mind having to start a second string center midfielder.
It was infuriating, to think that pathetic, sniveling fairies like Quatre Winner had everything laid out for them. He was the definition of a golden boy – he had good grades, athletic ability, friends, charm, good looks – he had everything.
While Trant struggled to find something. He didn't have the connections that Winner had, or a family legacy, or a very high GPA. He had been ignored during rush week his freshman year, and only his place on the soccer team assured him any standing on campus.
He had decided to become an RA because of the free room and because it gave him the chance to be more important than the whining freshmen and sophomores he had to babysit.
Everything that Trant did was a fight.
He was fighting society – fighting the elitists bastards who thought that someone on a need based scholarship wasn't worth their time; he had to fight his own parents and family who thought he was wasting his time doing this when he should be going to a tech college and training to be a plumber or something equally inane.
He also fought against himself, on a daily basis, and it was a fight he was losing.
It was wrong, fundamentally and morally wrong, but he was sexually attracted to other men.
If his mother knew she'd cry her eyes out. If his father knew, he'd beat the living shit out of Trant and disown him.
He had no idea why he found the sight of other men changing in the locker room so captivating – but he would take the supple firmness of a man's shoulders over the sight of a girl's bouncy tits any day.
Trant had slept with girls, so he wasn't gay. In fact, he had never even so much as kissed a guy. His one attempt – the one night he had been drunk enough and depressed enough to finally give in to his desires and hit on a faggot – had ended in disaster and humiliation. And community service.
He wanted to assure himself that Duo Maxwell was just a stupid slut and not worth the effort, but every time he looked at him – every time he saw that long braid of hair or his toned biceps or his narrow hips or his firm little ass – Trant was confronted with a hundred images of that hard, hot naked body twined with his own.
It was a sin, but no matter how many times Trant told himself that he couldn't erase his desire. He tried to fight it and he punished himself and Duo for the horrible thoughts the other man aroused in him.
Trant was relieved that he only had to face Duo one more Saturday during community service. He knew that the townie worked at Java Joe's and he avoided the coffee house like the plague – he didn't' trust himself around Duo and he needed to limit his interactions with him as much as possible.
As an early celebration for his last day of community service, Trant went out to the sports bar near the railroad tracks on Friday night. It was mostly a local hangout, but they were Trant's kind of people – hard-working, honest, straight men. He could spend a few hours drinking beer, watching hockey on the tv, and forget all about Duo Maxwell and his tight ass.
Except, as soon as Trant walked in he saw none other than Duo Maxwell at the pool table.
The townie was wearing a tight black t-shirt that clung to his torso and upper arms. Trant watched as he lined up a shot, the muscles in his arms flexing. It was criminal, Trant decided. It simply wasn't fair for him to be tortured like this. He was so damn tired of it.
Duo took his shot and let out a whoop of excitement.
"I think you owe me fifty bucks, Frank," Duo said and held out his palm to a grizzled, burly man in plaid.
"You're a fucking pool shark, Maxwell," Frank growled but handed over the money.
"A lesson I pray you won't pass on to your friends!" Duo winked and pocketed the money. He reached for a beer on a nearby table and as he turned he caught sight of Trant.
All of the joy and animation in his face evaporated instantly.
That alone made Trant furious. He was disgusted enough with himself as it was – he didn't need Duo looking at him like that, hating him that much.
Duo finished off the beer in one long pull.
"Rematch?" Frank offered.
"Nah, time for me to be hitting the road," Duo said. "I'll catch you next week!"
Duo started to walk past Trant on his way to the exit.
"Thanks for ruining a perfectly good night," Duo muttered to him.
"Oh fuck you, I didn't ruin anything. Unless you're pathetic enough that you were trying to pick up that fat fuck over there?" Trant jerked his head in Frank's direction.
Duo sneered.
"Better him than you," he assured Trant.
Then there was that. Trant knew that Duo was gay, knew that he didn't have standards that were all that high – after all he flirted with Barton and Yuy during community service, and he was a prostitute. He had been busted for prostitution and yet he wouldn't give Trant the time of day.
Trant knew that he wasn't bad looking – he knew, for a fact, that he was fit and that enough girls hit on him that he had to be handsome. So why didn't Duo see that? Why was Trant so obsessed with him and Duo so completely uninterested?
He just needed to get this entire thing out of his system. Trant could control himself in the showers – he had trained himself not to stare too long at the other guys – but he couldn't control himself around Duo. But maybe fucking him, just once, would put all of this behind him. Maybe he would realize that fucking a guy wasn't any different than being with a girl and he could get over this and just date athletic girls. With long, braided chestnut hair.
Duo shoved past Trant and left.
It took Trant only a few seconds to decide that this was it – his last chance to put an end to this – and he needed to do that before it drove him crazy.
He turned to follow Duo.
The bar was almost a mile from downtown and the main road from the bar back to the town ran parallel to the abandoned railroad tracks that had once made Clarkson an important textile town.
Duo was walking down the tracks, balancing on one rail and clearly taking his time, enjoying the warm night and also clearly not thinking about Trant at all.
Trant watched him for a few minutes. Duo would disappear from sight every ten feet or so as he moved from one spill of streetlight to the next.
Finally, Trant had had enough. He got into his car and drove towards Duo.
He was almost beside him when the townie turned to look at the car.
"Fuck, just leave me alone," Duo growled.
"How much?" Trant asked, hating himself for stooping this low.
"What?" Duo asked.
"How much is this going to fucking cost me?"
Duo stopped walking and stared at him in shock.
"Holy shit, are you kidding? I am not a whore – and even if I was, you couldn't pay me enough to fuck you. I'm not interested. For the last fucking time, leave me alone."
Trant gripped the steering wheel tightly and then had to force himself to relax when he felt the frame giving way under his grip.
"What the fuck is your problem with me?" he demanded.
"My problem with you? Seriously? My problem with you is that you're an arrogant asshole who one minute punches me in the face and another tries to pick me up. Dude, you're gay. Being mad at me – that's not going to change anything. Just… accept who the fuck you are and get over it."
"Because it's that fucking easy," Trant snarled.
Duo shrugged.
"No. Because there are a lot of shitheads like you in the world that make life really fucking difficult."
"Oh, fuck you."
Duo grinned tightly.
"You wish."
Trant glared at him.
Duo sighed.
"You're serious, aren't you? You really want to sleep with me?"
"No, I really don't," Trant argued. "But I can't stop thinking about you and it's fucking irritating."
Duo smirked and crossed his arms over his chest.
"So you want me but you hate me at the same time. Man, what a turn on." Duo shook his head and took a few steps closer to Trant's car. "Look, here's some advice. Why don't you just go to the city, go to a gay club and fool around with someone that you don't hate as much as you hate me? I'm sure you'd have a hell of a good time and you'd finally get off my back."
"I'm not gay."
"Sure. That's why you stare at my ass in the locker room at the police station. Because you're not gay."
"I am not a faggot."
"Oh, is this where you're going to list all of the shitty things you can think of to call me? Because I can think of better –" Duo abruptly stopped talking when Trant slammed open the door of his car and it impacted with his body from his knees to his nose.
"Son of bitch!" Duo groaned and stumbled backwards.
Trant jumped out of the car and tackled him to the ground. He might have super strength, but Duo had quick reflexes. This was his one chance to put an end to this, and he wasn't about to waste it.
He hauled Duo up to his feet and slammed him face first against the hood of the car, wincing slightly at the dent it left. He would have to get that fixed.
"Get the fuck off me!" Duo struggled against him, but it was almost pathetic how easy it was for Trant to hold him in place.
The feel of Duo's hips and ass moving against his own had Trant hard in almost no time and he quickly stripped off Duo's jeans and yanked his boxers down.
Duo's pale, firm ass was illuminated by the streetlights and it made Trant's mouth water.
I'm not gay, he reminded himself as he reached towards the tight, dark ring of muscles.
"I'm going to fucking kill you, Trant!" Duo shouted and Trant slammed his head against the car again.
"I'm not gay," he said out loud to himself.
And this would prove it.