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Author: FancyFigures
True Colours + Part 5 Heero let himself into the darkened gallery at around nine in the evening, carrying a portfolio of drawings and papers with him regarding the next show. He'd come straight from a late meeting on the other side of town, but he'd slipped off his jacket, and loosened his tie. He always felt overdressed when he was with Duo Maxwell, though he didn't like to examine that thought any more closely.It was a couple of days after his unexpected visit to Duo, when he'd offered to sit and chat with him while he drew - and that had ended up as a surprisingly pleasant time! They'd talked first about some of Heero's initial ideas, and some of Duo's visions for the actual layout of the gallery; then there was general conversation about the team, and some light-hearted sparring about which of the marketing and sponsorship commitments Heero would sign up. Heero had fetched them both a beer from the kitchen, and Duo had found a couple of packets of nuts and biscuits for snacks. Then when that conversation had come to a natural halt, Heero had continued to sit there in the studio room on the spare chair, and Duo had rather self-consciously picked up his sketchpad again, and started to draw. He'd looked up at Heero a couple of times, almost suspiciously, but Heero had either been examining his beer or skimming through some of the notes he'd taken about the show. There was no obvious interference, and so Duo had slowly relaxed, turning his concentration to his ideas and his work. The studio had been quiet for an hour or so more; Duo was sketching - Heero was thinking, and reading, and watching Duo. Finally, Duo had yawned, and put away his drawings for the night. It was a plain dismissal, and Heero didn't outstay his welcome. But when he suggested calling again to discuss the revised plans, Duo had calmly agreed. + Tonight, Heero closed the door behind him, shutting out the weary, night time sounds of the street. Almost immediately, he was conscious of someone in the gallery with him - and just as quickly, his instincts told him it wasn't Duo. He turned slowly, his heart beating quickly. The room was dark, with only the streetlight to illuminate it. There was a shadow at the back, which started to move towards him; it flowed out of the darkness of the room and became a man. Then it stopped moving. "Who are you?" asked Heero. The man looked back at him, calmly. He was slightly shorter than Heero, and slim to the point of thinness. He wore jeans, and a light, body-hugging sweater. His hair was brunette - it was long at the front, and fell awkwardly over his forehead, almost hiding one eye. The other eye shone with suspicion. "I was going to ask the same of you - but now I see you're Heero Yuy. I guess you have every right to visit your own gallery, whenever you like." The man stepped forward again, and offered his hand. "I'm Trowa Barton. I'm a friend of Duo's - been visiting him, and now I'm on my way home. I live on the other side of town." Heero took the hand - cool, dry - and shook it. "Pleased to meet you. I think I saw you at the opening." Trowa nodded. His eyes were focussed sharply on Heero, appraising the other man. He didn't seem to be intimidated by him in any way. Heero liked that - he grew tired of the wariness and nervousness he saw in most people's eyes when they were introduced to him. "Duo invited me. It was an excellent show, Mr Yuy - I'm not just repeating what the papers and journals said, as I rarely read them. It's my honest opinion." "I can see that," said Heero, and he could. He liked this Trowa Barton, more and more. "Call me Heero." "Heero, then." Trowa smiled, and Heero was pleasantly startled by the way it transformed the other man's face. He hadn't thought that Trowa Barton was at all melancholy until he smiled - and the contrast was suddenly so marked. "Duo has talked a lot about the job here, Heero; about the show. He enjoyed preparing it - enjoyed seeing art from a different perspective. It's given him an opportunity to develop new skills, I think; particularly in negotiation, and in managing people. Not that those skills didn't need some work!" Trowa watched Heero Yuy's answering smile, and learned a lot more about the man's own perceptions. "He talks about you as well, Heero." "Me?" Heero was surprised. "Yes," nodded Trowa. "Sometimes. About your commitment to your work; about some of the plans you've shared with him. I hope they weren't confidential -" "No..." Heero shook his head. He felt an absurd shiver through his body, and wondered if he should have kept his jacket on. "In fact - I was coming to see Duo myself about some new ideas on the ceiling lighting, and the platform blocks -" Trowa's eyebrow lifted. "You work this late on your projects?" "I know - it's a little irregular," replied Heero. He felt there was something the other man wasn't sharing with him. He felt he was being put through some kind of interview! "We're planning another show, you may know. I've - found it advantageous to talk to Duo about it without others around. He doesn't mind discussing it while he works, and I can always sit and watch him draw." "Watch him draw -?" Trowa's expression showed a sudden slash of shock. "I didn't think - he's not drawn or painted for so long -!" Heero thought he'd stepped across a line somewhere, and he didn't know what to say. The two men stared at each other for a moment, and then Trowa seemed to recover himself. "But I think you're out of luck tonight, I'm afraid, because Duo's - busy..." "With sketching?" "Uh -" Trowa seemed a little uncomfortable. "Maybe. Perhaps you'd better call another time." "I must agree a couple of these plans with him tonight - the supplier is coming around tomorrow morning. I'm sure he'll spare me a couple of minutes at least." Heero wondered what this man was trying to do - was he trying to protect Duo somehow? Or did he disapprove of Heero calling on his friend like this? Dammit, it was his gallery, wasn't it? Heero moved into defensive mode - and there were few who'd even attempt to challenge him on that. Trowa looked into his face and saw the quiet, but total determination. He pursed his lips - and stepped slightly to the side, tacitly allowing Heero to continue through. "It's been a pleasure to meet you, Heero. I hope we get a chance for a longer conversation next time. I'll let myself out." + Heero didn't know what made him start on up the stairs without calling or knocking. When he reached the top of the stairs, he looked across the landing, searching for Duo in the studio. There was a table set up in there now, and one of the display stands, though there were no pictures or plans on view. The overhead light was off, and the only light was from a thick church candle, anchored on a china plate, and balanced rather precariously on the edge of the table. There were two coffee mugs there as well, and another empty plate. He saw Duo with his back to him, leaning against the wall beside the window, facing out towards the city view. His form was silhouetted against the darkening sky outside and the single, flickering light source in the studio room. His hair was braided this evening, a long, vivid trail of dark shades against a white tee shirt that was too short, as usual - it rode up around his midriff. He wore those damned sweat shorts, though probably another pair, but the same style. Heero stared at the gap of fresh skin between shirt and shorts; followed the lines of muscles down the back of Duo's thighs; gazed at the slight glimmer of sweat in the hollow behind his knees, as it caught what little light there was. Almost at the same time, he noticed the other pair of legs, in amongst Duo's; another person in front of him. The limbs were close to Duo's - there was the shadow of fingertips at Duo's waist. Heero realised the other person must be extremely close up to him, for he couldn't see a separate face, couldn't see easily which arm may be which... He realised with a cold shock how stupid he was, for the pair of them were obviously kissing. Duo's head dipped against the girl's - her other hand gripped softly behind his neck, tangled into his hair, tugging him further against her. His body snuggled in between the other pair of jean-clad legs; Heero saw the muscles of his shoulders tensing as he pressed her body up against the wall more tightly; pushing his chest against her, as his mouth obviously worked hers. He heard a soft gasp; a moan swallowed by another eager mouth. Duo's arm flexed in front of his body, hidden from view, and the girl's legs parted slightly against his hips. Heero imagined him flipping open the button of her jeans - he had visions of Duo sliding his long, supple fingers down into her clothes; of touching her curls; of stroking parts that were hot and sweaty, and sensitive to every finger's touch... The shock became even colder as he watched the hand on Duo's waist slip down to his ass, and squeeze him confidently through the sweat fabric. Heero saw the muscles of Duo's shoulders shiver with pleasure; his back arch under the touch. But there was something about the darkly tanned skin of the bare arm, seen clearly for the first time - something that jarred. There were strong tendons stretching to grasp at Duo's body; there were soft hairs glinting in the evening glow. It was a masculine hand; a young man's hand. Heero had assumed it was a girl; it was a boy! He knew he had to leave. He had invaded Duo's privacy. Trowa had tried to tell him Duo was busy; he just hadn't realised with what. He felt sick, and wondered briefly why a genuine error should make him so unstable. He wasn't aware of making any noise as he turned to go back downstairs, but out of the corner of his eye he saw the figures move, and turn in his direction. "Heero?" It was Duo's voice. Heero cursed every God he'd ever read about, and paused, his hand on the doorframe. "Hold up, Heero! We're just finished here, y'know? Marco's just going. Aren't you, kid?" Heero stood, transfixed, staring at somewhere between the stairwell and the floor, as he heard the disgruntled mumbles from Duo's companion, and Duo's own careless laugh. "Not now, Marc baby. Yeah, I know - but first it was Trowa calling, and now it's my boss. I've not got the time tonight. I'll call you. Come on, kid..." Some rustling clothes - Heero heard a zip being wrenched up. There was a jolt to his elbow, and a young, dark-haired man pushed past him, none too gently. Heero had the brief impression of a scowling, Mediterranean-cast face, and a body that obviously worked out, then Marco was gone, lumbering down the stairs in a rather unattractive sulk. "Christ, don't you ever knock?" growled Duo's voice, and then he was standing next to Heero, with a wry smile on his face. His cheeks were flushed; his lips plump and moist. "Guess that was useful for me, though - he's a little too clingy for my liking." "I interrupted you - both. I'm sorry. I thought with Trowa gone, you were free -" "You met Trowa?" Duo looked at Heero with interest. "Good. I told him some about you - probably best he sees you for real, or I may be blackening your name needlessly, eh?" He laughed, easily enough. Heero leaned a little away from him. He hated him, suddenly, and had never known such a reaction in himself! How could Duo be so cool after such embarrassment? How could he just abandon the sensual anticipation of that make-out session, and dismiss his lover so swiftly? How could he chat so calmly to Heero about other people entirely - how could he laugh as if nothing had happened there? Heero wished he could wipe his own embarrassment from his mind - the strange, churning feelings inside his stomach that he was sure were showing on his face. He'd never known such discomfort. Nor had he ever felt such desire, either - a desire that wracked his gut, demanding that he be where that kid had been, just moments before - wrapped around Duo Maxwell, with Duo's tongue in his mouth, and Duo's hand down the front of his pants! "Heero - you OK?" Duo looked puzzled. His eyes looked unnaturally bright, but that may just have been the distorting light of the candle. "You wanna sit down or something? What did you want me for? Kinda late for work now, y'know. I'm not drawing tonight - I just had a talk with Trowa, let him know I'm not out of a job yet, and neither have I stolen the Corporation silver -" "Was that man your lover?" blurted Heero. Duo pursed his lips. His eyes searched Heero's, but came away dissatisfied. "Kinda blunt, Heero, don't y'think? I know I asked you about Quatre that time - but anyway, Marco, he's - no, he's not my lover. Well, he has been - a coupla times. I dunno - what do you want me to say? Is it any of your damned business anyway?" Heero heard the angry tone flaring up, as it often did - Duo had a sharp, fast-flowing temper. "You my mother or somethin'?" "I - no, of course not - you're right, I've no right to interrogate you about your sex life -" Duo still stared at him. Heero's words were apologetic, but his whole body was tense and angry. Duo felt the waves of emotion coming from him, and wondered why he'd never felt anything so passionate before from this man. Heero Yuy had been fucking angry with him, plenty of times; but this felt different. Very different! Duo wondered why he wanted to reach out and touch the fury that he could see trembling along Heero's strong arms. Why he wanted to see how it would feel to absorb it into himself... "You're pissed, aren't you? What's your problem? Is it 'cos it was a guy? You gotta problem with guys dating - guys making out?" Heero grimaced. He wanted to move away - to leave. He wanted to know how Duo's arms would feel around his waist. He wanted to touch the soft plumpness of Duo's lips, and make them swell some more. "I never thought about it, Duo." "Liar," said Duo, rather too loudly considering they were only inches apart. Then he moved away, backing towards the window again, a little unsteadily as if he were no longer as sure of Heero as he had been. "Guess you got your supermodel, and your celebrity magazine love life, and we bohemians are rather disgusting to you, eh?" "I don't date to suit the press," said Heero, tightly. "You have no idea -" "Ever fucked a man?" asked Duo, aggressively. "I wouldn't discuss it with you if I had!" snapped back Heero. "OK -" hissed Duo. His braid had dropped forward as he argued, and he threw it back over his shoulder. He put out a hand to the side, anchoring it on the edge of the couch. Heero had stepped on into the room, following his path, but still several feet away. "Better we clear the air about this now, agreed?" Duo's expression had hardened. He couldn't seem to tear his eyes from Heero's mouth, as if he hung on the very next word. "Sure - whatever you want," growled Heero. His feet seemed to be moving of their own accord, towards the retreating Duo. "You wanna fire me now? 'Cos I may be gay - or bisexual?" "Of course not -!" Duo stopped backing up - he felt the cold of the window against his back. "But you reckon you can come up here and harass me about my bedroom habits whenever you like?" "No!" Heero almost shouted the word. "I apologised for that." "You apologise like I fuck, man - plenty enthusiasm, but fuck all commitment! D'you think I won't see in your face what you really think?" "So what do you think you see?" Heero despised himself for asking, but the temptation was just too much. He came to an abrupt halt. He was a foot away from Duo now; they were of a similar height, and their angry eyes were locked together. Heero could hear a harsh panting breath that he thought was his own, but it may have been Duo's as well. He couldn't believe this man had gotten him so angry, so quickly - "Ever wanted to fuck a man?" Duo spoke softly, through gritted teeth. His throat trembled a little, and Heero watched it, fascinated despite himself. "That's none of your damned business!" replied Heero. He meant it, too. He discussed little of his private life, or his preferences, not even with Quatre. "But that's what I see in your face, Heero Yuy!" hissed Duo. His eyes sparked with some emotion that Heero couldn't read - and then he smiled. It was a thin, greedy, feral smile, with none of the unambiguous warmth that he often showed. Heero shivered. His anger leeched away from him like liquid through a sieve. He felt as if he were in one of those dreams where you discover yourself in the middle of the supermarket, stark naked, and your feet are somehow stuck to the floor. He didn't often feel fear - though he wondered if that were a deficiency within himself, rather than something to be proud of. He felt it now. + Duo saw the shiver. He knew he should have felt pleasure - that he could affect the cool, controlled Heero Yuy; that he could unnerve him. But it didn't feel quite like that. There was something about Heero that was calling to a painful place inside him - a harsh place; an uncontrollable place. He suddenly realised that if he kept this up, he may lose his way back from there. Duo Maxwell was scared, too. He realised honestly - perhaps for the first time - just how hot Heero Yuy actually was. He realised how he'd been watching the man, whenever he came round - dammit, he'd probably been watching him from the first day they met in that dismal lawyer's office! He knew the smell of Heero's light, expensive cologne - he knew the tone of his voice within a crowd of people. He knew the way he moved his hands - the way he held his pen. He knew why he hadn't told Heero to stick his job offer where the sun don't shine; and why tonight he'd told Marco to leave, rather than Heero himself. Duo didn't care about convention - Duo didn't care about sucking up to the boss. What Duo cared about was that Heero would want him. Because he wanted him in return - badly. Fuck it, fuck it, groaned Duo to himself. He couldn't be that wrong, could he? Hadn't he slept around enough to recognise the signs? He reckoned that Heero liked guys. He might not have fucked many (any?), but he liked 'em that way. So... Heero might like him. Why was Duo so bothered if he did or not? Why had he held back this long, unless he was afraid of rejection? Duo Maxwell wasn't used to sexual rejection; sex was one of the few areas of his life where he habitually had more success than failure. Heero's breath was hot and furious in the still air, and Duo imagined he could feel the trail of it on his cheek. "Kiss me, Heero," he said. His voice was hoarse. Heero's eyes widened - Duo watched his reflection in the dark pupils. He felt like his soul had been captured there, a tiny glimmer of life inside a sealed jar; a moth struggling against a sharp, seductive light... "Kiss me. You want to. And I want you to." He didn't wait for the look of shock on Heero's face to pass. He took one step forward, away from the wall, placed a hand at Heero's neck, and tugged the angry mouth towards him. His lips sank into the firm, moist warmth of another man's mouth; his tongue probed gently at the tight lips, begging for more; his hand tightened on the smooth, slim neck, as if to stop Heero from pulling back. Duo felt as if he would devour Heero - he sucked and licked at the firm flesh as if he'd never tasted anything so good! His heart was hammering so loudly it hurt his eardrums; his chest ached from the tension of trying to hold Heero's body close to his, when at any moment it may be wrenched away. His other hand slid around Heero's shoulders, and down his back, caressing the muscles firmly - touching the shape of him, tracing out his warmth, and the flow of his pulse; firm fingers tugging at the flimsy fabric of his shirt. He was almost enjoying the taste too much to register the sudden relaxation in Heero's body; the way that his head started to move towards Duo, rather than away; the way that his hand lifted from his side and grasped at Duo's waist. He gasped aloud at the buzz of Heero's fingers on the narrow strip of his naked skin; his hips pressed against the other man's legs. He heard a strangled groan, and knew it was his. He was vividly aware of his cock, hot and heavy, swelling greedily and pressing against the thin fabric of his shorts. He wanted to slip his hands up under Heero's shirt and feel the tight skin - he wanted to put a hand to the dark-haired man's crotch and caress his cock through his pants. He wanted so much, it shocked him - he'd never been aroused so violently, so quickly, in his life! But at the same time he fought a strange, alien nervousness, holding him back. He didn't know this man well enough - or was it that he didn't know him little enough? He ached to go further - to touch at Heero, to try to tease him to intimacy. And yet he realised how terribly afraid he was that he might find Heero wasn't as aroused as he was... Why did he care? wailed his inner voices, silently. Why? + Heero wondered when the hell he'd become so passive; it wasn't something he'd ever seen in himself before. When Duo had kissed him, admittedly he'd been shocked, and for that moment he couldn't move - either away, or closer. Which is it to be? challenged his conscience. Do you want this or not? He felt the amazing moistness of Duo's mouth on his - the hot tip of his tongue demanding entrance. He could smell the man's light sweat - the shampoo from his hair. Duo's skin burned against his chest, even though they were both clothed. He thought he could feel the hard nub of Duo's nipple pushing out through the thin cotton of the tee shirt, and brushing against him; pressing at his breast as Duo slid a hand around his back - then flicking back and away as Duo's head tilted slightly to get a deeper angle to his kiss. He let his reactions take over - he let the gorgeous warmth of desire slip through his veins and relax his astonished muscles. He put a hand to Duo's waist - elated to feel the bare living muscle under him. The man felt the same as he talked - loud, lively, and brash! The touch was as good as he'd imagined - as he'd dreamed. He barely registered how very different this was from his caressing of Remy - of her careless feminine touches in return. The difference was like warm day against cool night - and Remy was the loser. Duo tasted of coffee and butter and warm saliva. Heero felt the creases of his lips and the soft corners of his mouth; their noses brushed; he felt a slight abrasiveness from evening stubble. Just a kiss, he thought, disorientated. It's just a kiss - and yet everything is going to be different after it. He opened his mouth, and let Duo's desperate tongue enter him. + They parted long minutes later, gasping for breath - limbs aching with need and a fearful hunger. Neither of them had any concept of how long they'd been in each other's arms; pressed against each other's body; tasting each other's mouth. Heero stumbled back, as if pushed; Duo leant, bonelessly, against the wall. Their eyes were fevered - their hands trailed in the air, as if they still clutched at each other. "Shit..." hissed Duo. "That was a fucking kiss and then some -!" For once, Heero envied him his emotive vocabulary. He couldn't find a single word to describe how he felt. He wasn't sure he even knew how he felt! He watched the shallow rise and fall of Duo's scantily covered chest; he saw the high colour of Duo's cheeks, and the wisps of hair on his neck that had escaped from the braid. "You're some guy, Heero Yuy. Y'know that?" Duo's eyes seemed extremely bright, and unusually wide, and they looked glazed. Heero wondered - to his shame - whether he'd looked like that when he was kissing the boy Marco. Perhaps he always looked like that with his lovers. "I -" Heero struggled with an overwhelming desire to apologise for something, but of course he'd not initiated anything. He had no idea what to say - what to do. He knew what he wanted to do; and that would have proved Duo's goading so right. It's a really bad idea to mix business with pleasure, warned his common sense. I'm already dating; dating a girl, reminded his conscience. Duo Maxwell has plenty of lovers, hissed his self-esteem. This means nothing more than an entertainment... Heero knew most of his own relationships had only been that. "I should go now, I think," he ground out. His mouth felt swollen from a none too gentle use. He reached up a hand to touch at his lips, to feel them - and then thought how callow that might look. He let it fall back to his side. "That's - best." Duo stared; his tongue slipped out and wet his lips, as if they were suddenly very dry. His eyebrow raised slightly, as if to deny Heero's statement, but then he nodded agreement; and Heero left the apartment. + Heero wondered what the hell he was doing. He'd been back to the gallery four nights out of seven, now. When he was at work during the day he thought about being there; he left earlier than usual each evening, to travel there. He ate fitfully; he cancelled date after date with both Remy and Quatre. He attended to business, but that was all he concentrated on. He didn't want to admit that he didn't want to be anywhere else except there. It was irregular, of course, even for a man like Heero Yuy, whose work and leisure time often overlapped. He wouldn't normally expect an employee to work long into every evening, except at times of crisis. He didn't often ask Malia to stay on - he didn't go round to Tony's apartment to discuss the upcoming exhibition. But he went to Duo Maxwell's. He might have argued that it was because the man lived in the gallery itself - he might have pointed out that Duo's working habits were irregular in themselves, in that he worked from his own timetable; he wasn't always available to talk to Heero during the day. However, few people questioned Heero Yuy's actions, so he had no need to justify them to anyone except himself. So he sought out Duo at the gallery, and Duo gave him the time. He would always knock now, on the door at the back of the gallery, and wait for Duo to come down and let him in. Was he afraid to find Duo with another lover? Each time he visited, he still carried the papers, the plans for the second exhibition. That was why he came round, wasn't it? Each time they met, they sat around Duo's kitchen table, and talked about work, and argued ideas, and mentally circled around each other like predatory beasts before a battle. They would discuss the progress for an hour or so - they were still searching for a definitive theme for the show; a new approach that would both startle and affirm. Heero would pay earnest attention; he took more notes; he gave instruction on whom Duo was to meet, and whom he was to cultivate over the next week or so. He drew up letters to sponsors and contributors; he roughed out budgets and income statements. Then Duo would groan that he'd had enough of fucking work during the day - that he'd had to listen to whining suppliers, and manufacturers begging for advertising franchises, and artists trying to wheedle inclusion of their work, when they shouldn't be allowed to illustrate anything more than a fucking milk carton - Then there'd be a moment of silence; of some awkwardness. Heero knew they were both thinking of the kiss. Or rather, he knew he was; and he hoped that the bright light in Duo's eyes at these times meant that he was too. The memory both warmed and tormented him; like the fire that had been lit inside him, so very, very recently. Then Duo would offer Heero a drink, and lope into the studio room. He'd fold his legs up underneath him on the couch, and reach for his sketchpad. His concentration would pass entirely to the paper, it seemed, and the initially tentative strokes of soft pencil. Heero would wander in after him, pull up the solitary chair, and sit and watch. He held papers and spreadsheets in his hands, but they didn't hold much interest for him. He had reserves of patience that stood him in good stead, because it might be a while before Duo would speak - before he'd acknowledge that Heero was still there. Then Heero would ask to see the work, and maybe make a comment as to how it appeared to him. The sketches were bare, but extremely emotive. Heero didn't profess to be an expert, but he knew style and talent when he saw it. Duo never told him what they were of, or gave them titles; Heero never saw if Duo worked further on them after the initial composition, nor if he finished them. He rarely saw any specific figures or objects, though he often glimpsed the shape of a hand, or the twist of fingers, as a recurring theme; but he felt most vividly the raw passion behind the contrasting strokes. There were thick, bold movements - then the many, subtle shadings around and within, that led the eye a dance, or shocked and tricked the perspective of the viewer. Heero was amazed at what Duo could create and evoke in such a way with a mere pencil; he looked on such a mundane thing with a new respect. He didn't know why he was so fascinated by watching Duo draw. He liked the sketches, that was genuine - but he liked even more to see the artist at work. The small furrow of concentration on Duo's brow - the flicker of conflicting emotions in his eyes as he thought through what he was trying to communicate. The flexing of his shoulders as he hunched over the pad - the quick, sure movements of his wrist as he shaded and stroked with his pencil. Duo would seem to tolerate Heero's presence - sometimes he left enough space on the couch for Heero to join him; but Heero never did. So Duo would stretch out, and grunt occasionally, and barely notice Heero's company. Or so Heero would think, until the times that Duo suddenly became dissatisfied, or angry. He'd curse uninhibitedly, and the offending page would be ripped out ,and crumpled mercilessly to the floor. Then Duo would seem to notice Heero afresh. Irrationally, he'd be angry at the intrusion, there'd be harsh words spoken, and Heero would leave. It's only been a short time that we've known each other, thought Heero, letting himself out of the gallery into the dark, after another of these nights. It's not like we have any routine. It's not like we're any kind of partnership - barely any kind of friends. He rationalised it in many ways; for many hours. The fact remained that the atmosphere in the studio was both a comfort and a treat to him. He felt as if another part of him was taken out at that time, examined and unveiled and caressed. He couldn't explain what was happening to him. His only satisfaction was that for most of the time, Duo seemed to feel the pleasure too. It was a completely intangible feeling, though. Duo rarely touched him, even when they muddled around together within the small apartment. He occasionally brushed against him; sometimes put out a hand to emphasise something he disagreed with; sometimes pushed Heero's hand away from a drawing. But Duo had never kissed him again. + It was past ten o'clock when the knocking came. Duo stretched himself, yawning - he realised he'd been asleep on the couch. There were no lights on, and the candle had burned down to its last inch in the saucer, giving only a dim light around the room. He preferred the candlelight in the evenings to the artificial light - he liked the glimmer and glare from the town to seep in through the window unhindered. The sketchpad had slipped from his lap on to the floor. The page was blank - there'd been no inspiration tonight. In a sleepy bad temper, he kicked it aside. He cursed himself and his vanity - didn't know why the fuck he'd ever thought he might start creating again! What or who had ever possessed him? It just confused him - frustrated him -! He sighed heavily. His neck was stiff from the awkward position he'd been half-lying in, and his braid was awkwardly tangled against his neck. Then he heard the knock downstairs again, and realised what had woken him. He sat up and winced. "Come up - it's open!" If it were a burglar, the guy'd soon realise his mistake; if it were Trowa, he'd be welcome enough. If it were anyone else, he'd just take his chances - He knew it was Heero even before the man appeared at the open doorway. He could sense him - maybe the firm footfall; maybe the waft of cologne. Maybe the increased beat of his own heart... "Dammit, man, what time is it? Were we meant to be meeting tonight? Hell, I need my sleep, y'know, I've had a shit of a day, with Malia dragging me half across town to meet some agent, and then he wasn't there, and the pictures he had were too fuckin' gross for us -" He realised Heero wasn't listening. The dark-haired man just stood there, looking a little bemused. Duo was sulkily angry with both Heero and himself. "Go home, Heero! I'm knackered - I daresay you are too. Ain't gonna be much sense coming from us tonight. Fuck off back to your cosy apartment and your cosier lady, and leave me to fester here. OK?" Heero totally ignored him. His voice was low when he spoke. "There's been a fire at my house." Duo was startled. "The apartment -?" "No, my house out of town. They think someone was after the collection, because they'd tried to break into the security door. Then there'd been a fire in the office - it was started deliberately, the firemen think." "You - you're OK?" Heero stared at Duo as if he saw him for the first time. "I wasn't there - I rarely visit except at weekends. There's a sophisticated alarm system that alerted the fire department, and luckily they moved fast enough to prevent any real damage to the house. I don't have sprinklers, because of potential damage to the paintings. Dammit, Remy keeps ringing about an offer I made weeks ago, to show her around the collection; it was meant to be this week. Thank God we weren't there tonight." He moved towards the couch, then hesitated. For God's sake! growled Duo to himself. Invite yourself in, why don't ya? But he pushed some crumpled paper out of the way, and waved Heero over to sit beside him. He wasn't sure what he was meant to do. Heero was in casual clothes again - he only had a thin sweater on over his pants, as if he'd been relaxing for the evening when all this happened; and then he'd just left his apartment as he was, and came here. He looked damned confused - and damned cute, though Duo fought down that particular feeling. So why the hell had he come round? He'd have assistants - he'd have contractors - he'd have friends, Goddamit, to sort all this out! What was Heero expecting of him? "It's the fire, I think, that's so surprising," said Heero, suddenly. He sat rigidly on the edge of the couch, a stark contrast to Duo who was folded up casually on the other cushion, barefoot as usual. "Why? If it were just a burglary, I could understand that. Dammit, I've had three break-ins in the last year alone. But there's no need to set fire to anything - no need to damage anything. That's just malicious - dangerous..." Duo felt the tremor through his body. It always happened, when the topic was mentioned. He thought he'd probably grow out of it - one day. "Fire... yeah. I know all about that." Heero lifted his eyes, and Duo was surprised to see the stark distress there. "I'm sorry - I should have realised the subject might be distressing to you." "'S your house - 's your fire," quipped Duo, shrugging. His voice sounded a little cracked in the still night air of his stark room. "Tell me about it, Duo." "Why? You obviously know the stories. Don't tell me your team didn't fill you in on all the lurid background to your new employee." "I want to hear you tell me. If it's not too upsetting." I don't do 'upset', thought Duo, fiercely. I did all that a year ago, and I've moved on, haven't I? I'm mature now; I'm balanced; I'm leading my own life without him*. So why am I still in pain? he screamed to himself. He shifted on the couch, tucking his legs deeper underneath his body. He was wearing another of his amazingly skimpy vests, in a vivid orange fabric, and thin jersey sweats. He wasn't cold, but he folded his arms around his chest as if to protect himself. "There was a fire - he died. Solo, my brother - died. That's the gist of it really - you want a movie out of it?" He glared at Heero, but all he met were those deep, dark, still eyes that made him blurt truths out almost against his will. Duo sighed as if he were bored with the whole thing - but that was patently false, and both of them knew it. "He was all I had - just the two of us, since our parents died; since I was a young kid. He was a painter - and I wanted to be one." Heero's silence was strangely encouraging, and he continued, slowly. "They said someone was with him the night he died. He'd been seen arriving back home with someone. He'd been at the opening of the gallery up town - they were showing the first four sketches that he'd just finished -" "The 'Family' sketches," said Heero, quietly. "Yeah. Guess you know all about that, too. He liked to party, Solo - he would've been out to celebrate. Christ knows who he brought home, could've been any bit of pretty ass he took a fancy to -" "He had a lover -?" "Sure, sure," said Duo. "But you know him, Heero - it was Trowa Barton. He'd been seeing Trowa for about a year, more on than off - but not so regular that he wanted him to move in with him. Not so caring that he wanted to acknowledge him in public. Fucked him about, of course, like he did everyone. Trowa was there for home comforts - but then my bro looked for more public amusements elsewhere. We were all there to gravitate around the sun that was Solo Maxwell..." Heero noted the bitterness in Duo's tone; accepted the information about Trowa Barton, though he'd not known the connection before. He saw Duo's hands clenching at his arms; squeezing the muscles there. "I knew he was seeing someone else. Probably more 'n one. Though the minute they caused him any hassle, he'd dump 'em. That was always his strategy. Fun, fuck 'n flee - that's what I called it! Trowa was the only one he ever really cared about." Duo's expression softened as he spoke of his friend. "He's my friend as well, you know." "I know," replied Heero. Duo felt an alien shiver of emotion at Heero's obvious sincerity; it felt like comfort. "Then somehow the fire started - they think some cleaner spilt, and then a lighter caught it, and it spread fucking quickly. The fire service didn't get there in time in Solo's case. Whole place burned to the ground. Him along with it - they think he may have been asleep; was overcome by the fumes. They never found evidence of anyone else, so whoever was with him had gone by then. They spent a lotta time reassuring me that he probably never felt a thing. The damned therapists liked to tell me the same thing, ad nauseam..." "Did Solo smoke?" asked Heero. Duo wondered what that was about. But he answered, regardless. "Nah. Hated it. Hated the smell of tobacco - the smoke. Ruined his pictures, he said. Wouldn't even touch a little weed now 'n then." "And afterwards? The sketches?" Duo's head went back against the soft cushions, and his eyes closed briefly. "This guy came up after he died - someone from Hong Kong or somewhere. Said Solo had sold the four to him - had a paper to prove it. I wasn't at my best, y'know...there were hardly any unsold pictures left - a fucking mammoth mess o' debt. I hate paperwork like that - I was a bit of a mess myself for a while." "So you accepted the sale." "Of course!" snarled Duo. "I needed money for the debts and the funeral 'n all. And for Trowa - though he's just that bit better with his money than I am, so he hadn't needed the Great Artist to support him like I had." "You said the first four sketches. People say there were going to be six. You're entitled to the others...they'd be yours, surely." "If they existed!" said Duo, sharply. "No sign of 'em. Probably a pile of ashes like Solo himself. Don't push me on that one, Heero, it was bad enough at the time with all the press coverage, and the whining artists and critics, and that guy in Hong Kong accusing me of hiding 'em someplace, musta been up my ass -!" Heero lifted a hand slightly, as if in appeasement. They were silent for a moment. Duo wondered if this was what was meant by catharsis - he felt a strange, calm void inside him, having told the story again after so long. Telling it to someone other than Trowa; telling it to Heero Yuy, and more or less the whole of it. Less fucking expensive than therapists, he thought, cynically. "What did you do, Duo? After he died? You had a career of your own..." Duo shrugged. No-one had really been interested in him, except as brother to the prodigious talent so tragically ended. Everyone forgot Solo's less attractive character traits. His own paintings had sold while they were good and fashionable - then his grief got in the way, he couldn't turn out the goods, and fashion discarded him like soiled litter in the gutter. "It was hardly fair to you, Duo..." "Fair? What's life got that's fair?" he snarled back. "Fair that Solo burned to death? Fair that some days I loved him, other days I hated his guts? He despised my work, Heero, y'know? OK, he praised me like a guy would pat the head of his pet - I was a novelty. But he laughed at the style - at the colours. Said I was hiding from something - blazing my way out there with shock and splash, so's I'd never have to stand back and let people really judge what talent I had. "And I guess he was right! Take away my paints, and I've got nothing to show any more. Made a fucking disaster of life, the pair of us. At least his was cut short - some would say it was a relief, before he gambled and whored it all away." He hoped to God the stinging in his eyes was something to do with his tiredness, and not the start of tears. That was another thing he'd left in the past! "Why do you hate him like this?" asked Heero, as if from a long way away. "I dunno." Duo's answer came instinctively and honestly. "I'm afraid to remember him - but I'm afraid when I forget about him, even for a few hours. It's a fucking mess, I told you..." He didn't really recognise where his last words came from. They sounded very pathetic. "There's nothing left of him. I have nothing left except all this shit in my head." It was a sudden surprise when Heero stirred on the couch beside him. He'd leant down, and picked up Duo's fallen pad. "Draw him, then. Make your own memorial. You draw with great perception and passion - I'm not sure why you chose paint as your medium at all, though your paintings are excellent, too. You must keep this up -" They were both shocked when Duo leaned over and slapped the pad from his hands. "Fuck off with the pity, Heero Yuy! I know what I am, I don't need you and your amateur psychology to tell me -!" Heero's anger flared in return. "You're an arrogant fool, Maxwell! You have a gift! Christ, I wish I had something like that, something singular and precious like that! Look how you've just started this up afresh, and you can't say you're not excited by it -" Duo stared at him - his eyes were suspiciously bright. "Fucking right, I'm not! I'm worn out with the whole fucking game, the painting, and the artists, and the damned hypocrisy and the money, money, money -" "It's not all about money -" Duo flushed. "Yeah - like they said they loved his work, and they loved him, and then they fell on his estate like carrion!" "The creation, Duo!" Heero persisted. "The conception! The satisfaction, surely...you do it for that, don't you?" Duo's passion bemused him; it fascinated him! He didn't understand it, but it echoed inside him, leaving a burning, throbbing trail along his nerves. He felt a tremendous rush of emotion - he thought it might spill out of his mouth unless he spoke quickly, to channel it. It was so unlike his normally inhibited character that he didn't know how to cope with it; this night was turning into one of the most amazing of his life. "Dammit, I watch you, Duo! You're absorbed into it - into the whole process. Your thoughts - your emotions. It's where you want to be - making your art. Isn't it?" Duo stared at him; suspicion mixed with amazement. "I dunno. I just - draw. I just sorta sit here and - draw." "You never thought about it before? Why you are as you are? Why you do what you do?" "No. I never had an audience before, Heero. Never had anyone interested in knowin'." Duo felt himself flushing. "Certainly didn't seek too closely myself." They stared at each other. Their thoughts were very plain in their expressions - but maybe some of the words weren't yet ready. "Why did you come round tonight, Heero?" asked Duo, softly. He looked back down at his lap, and his eyes were hidden. His hand stroked at his thigh - plucking at the thin material. "Why do you come round at all?" Heero was silent for a moment. Duo heard him take a deep breath. When he spoke, his voice was steady and low - Duo felt it thrill through his own body in an almost unwilling response. "Why do you let me, Duo?" Duo's eyes lifted up again, and met Heero's. He saw the brilliant indigo of Heero's dark irises - he identified as many shades as he could until his mind was no longer objective, and his judgement was no longer under his control. Heero saw the flicker of the dying candle flame in the two wide mirrors that were Duo's eyes. He was remembering the shocking firmness of Duo's mouth - the hot thickness of the strong, masculine tongue, probing into his own mouth, seeking out the corners, and drinking the tastes. He felt again the tight muscles of Duo's waist, flexing under Heero's grip. And he really didn't want to, but he also remembered the sight of Duo's bare legs wriggling between those of his occasional lover, the Latin boy - Heero's control threatened to desert him at the thought of Duo's hips rubbing up against another man's groin; the thought of his hand slipping into tight jeans to fondle another man's cock... Duo's voice broke into his reverie; it was also low and rather soft. "Sooo...that brings us to a rather interesting place, doesn't it, Heero Yuy? But then I said before that we oughtta clear the air..." "Yes," replied Heero. The word squeezed itself out from a tight throat. "You did. That works best for us, I think. I dislike deception -" "And I dislike crap!" said Duo, his voice much firmer now. Heero tried to ignore the fact that Duo was shifting on the couch again - that he was unfolding his long legs, and straightening his back. That he was moving nearer to where Heero still sat on the edge of the cushion. "We may be an odd couple, Heero, but something works, doesn't it? Something's pushin' all the right buttons, and I for one ain't gonna ignore it any more. Never been known for my shy and retirin' style, of course... and you're so fucking hot, you know that?" Heero was stricken silent. He could smell Duo's warm scent; he could feel his breath on his arm, and the hairs rose in alarm. He could hear their breathing; two individual rhythms, but both fast now, and rather shallow. When he replied, his voice sounded quite alien. "That's nonsense - and from your own mouth, Duo -" "And so is this," murmured Duo, and he leant forward. [part 4] [part 6] [back to FancyFigures' fic] |