Friends in Low Places: A GW Semi-songfic
by Zillie
Pairings: now that would be telling. . . just read and find out.
Warnings: yaoi (ALWAYS), OOC, PWP, sexual innuendo and references, country music. "Friends in Low Places" (lyrics in italics) belongs to Garth Brooks.
Rating: R, mostly for language.
This was my very first fic, so please keep that in mind.

Friends in Low Places

The first thing I heard was the gasp. "Isn't that?" "It couldn't be." "Why? Isn't he a friend. . . ?" "Oh, honey, he was more than a friend. Much more."

I knew who I'd see before I turned around.

I didn't, however, expect him to be drunk. Not that most people could tell -- Duo always seems a bit high, and so can hide it really well. He holds his liquor like it was water -- the way he tells it, it really was mother's milk to him.

I remember lying next to him one night. Exhausted, worn out, and sore from his kind of lovin', I had shot him a glare. "I thought you were going to be too drunk to fuck."

He had given me one of his grins. "Baka. The first home I ever had was a dumpster behind a liquor store. It wasn't until I went to live at the Church that I realized that corn malt whiskey was not just another variety of juice."

I had looked at him, disbelieving.

He shrugged. "Hey, they have apple juice, orange juice, even that cranberry shit. Why not corn juice? Maybe it doesn't have quite as much vitamin C as you could hope, but hey, I grew up big and strong anyway."

I smirked. "Not so big."

His breath was hot on my face. "That's not what you were saying just a few minutes ago. . . ."

He was never too drunk to fuck.

"But surely! He wouldn't crash the wedding rehearsal dinner!"

"Hmmph. Those boys never had any problem crashing anything during the war."

Our eyes met; his, as beautiful as ever, only a trifle out of focus thanks to what must have been copious amounts of liquor. I opened my mouth.

His was already open. Before I could ask him what the hell he was doing, he started to sing.

"Blame it all on my roots, I showed up in boots," he wailed, gesturing to his feet emphatically. He stepped closer, so close I could smell his breath. Three hundred proof. Scotch. I reeled. His nimble fingers had my bow tie undone before I got my balance back. He whisked it off. "And ruined your black tie affair. . . hic! I was the last one to know. . . ." Now he was waving what I recognized as a wedding invitation in the air in front of me. "I can't believe you're marrying that blond bimbo!" He gestured at something behind me.

Said blond bimbo, grasping my hand, bore an angelic expression. "I cannot lie. I love the man, and I'm marrying him tomorrow."

"Tra. . . hamp," Duo hiccupped again. He took a deep breath -- a sure sign that he was about to burst out in song again. "I was the last one to show, and the last one you thought would be there!"

The entire wedding party was watching us. . . including the press photographers who were naturally present at such an important person's wedding. A flash went off right in my face. "Duo," I said.

He turned to the assembly, grabbing a glass of champagne from a nearby waiter. "And I saw the surprise, and the fear in his eyes, when I took his glass of champagne."

"Duo, you're making an ass out of yourself," I hissed. He turned back to me and sank onto his knees, raising the glass in a toast.

"I toasted you, said honey we may be through -- "

"Duo, just let me -- "

He came roaring to his feet. "But you'll never hear me complain!"

I narrowed my eyes. "Why the fuck not?"

"Cause I got friends in low places! Where the whiskey drowns and the beer chases! Oh I'm not big on social graces -- " Now there was a big shocker.

"Think I'll head on down to the oh-asis! Oh I've got friends in low places!"

He was close enough that I could see the red of his eyes. He'd been crying.

Boys don't cry.

Duo drained the champagne glass and tossed it back to the waiter, who just barely managed to catch it. The figure beside me tensed. "Heero, can't you. . . ?"

Duo swayed a bit. "Yeah, Heero, can't you ? Can't he what? Do something with me?" He raised his eyes to mine; I could almost taste his misery. "Jesus, Heero. I was only gone for a month. So we had a fight. So it was my fault."

I sighed. "Duo, there's been -- "

"I went," he interrupted, choosing his words with the care particular to the shit-faced, "to see Hilde."

I could hear the crowd buzzing. "Hilde? Who's that?"

"The braided one's old girlfriend. Remember from the spread in People after the war?"

Duo heard them, and turned, waving his arms grandly. "That was fake. They made it -- between me and Hilde -- look like much more than it really was. They didn't want you to know that he" and here an arm swooped in my direction, almost hitting my nose, "was fucking me and not the Queen of the World."

Relena hissed.

At that point I didn't give a flying fuck what anyone else thought. "You're telling me you never slept with her?" I could remember asking him almost the exact same thing during that ill-fated argument a month before.

This time he didn't evade the question. Nor did he storm out after accusing me of being a jealous idiot. "Yeah, I slept with her."

"Just once!" Hilde, who I had not noticed before, put in. She was dressed in a beautiful dress and had obviously not come with Duo. "Well, three times. . . but one night. It was a rebound fuck for both of us -- when you guys had that fight right before the Mariemaia incident. Meant nothing."

Mariemaia, standing right beside her, nodded in agreement, God knows why.

I turned back to Duo. "You couldn't have just told me that?"

He shrugged, the gesture exaggerated by inebriation. "I sort of tried -- I didn't think you'd believe me. Besides. . . I had to go and make sure that she hadn't thought it was more than it was. So I went to see her to <hic> make sure."

"And that took you a month."

He shrugged and snagged another glass of champagne. "Some of us are not <hic> fearless. Maybe it took me a while to work up the courage. Not to mention the while it took me to <hic> track down the perfect engagement ring for you."

I nearly melted. Me. I nearly dissolved into a little

Perfect Soldier puddle right there on the marble floor. Not that anybody could tell; I haven't slipped quite that far.

"But you couldn't even wait a month. . . I get a wedding invitation. Heero Yuy's getting married, and mine ain't the other name on the invite." He glared at the two of us, and then took another deep breath.

"Oh, fuck," the blond beside me said, his voice wary.

"This is all your fault, Quatre," I hissed.

"Well I guess I was wrong," Duo bellowed. "I just don't belong, but then I've been there before. . . everything's all right, I'll just say goodnight, and I'll show myself to the door! Hey I didn't mean to cause a big scene -- just give me an hour and then I'll be as high as that ivory tower that you're livin' in!" He dropped to his knees again. "Cause I got friends in low places!" He reached out a hand and grasped a certain friend in a certain low place -- well, lower than my belt, at least -- who was very happy to see him. . . regardless of all the people looking on.

"Ackgh," I gargled.

The rest of his words were somewhat muffled; he had his mouth up against my crotch, and was trying to eat me alive through the, uh, rapidly tenting fabric. I nearly bit my tongue off.

"Can he do this for you?" he demanded. "Huh, Heero? Does Quatre do this for you?"

"Fuck, no," Trowa said from behind us. "I wouldn't let him."

Neither of us even heard him. "No," I said. "Nobody can. Nobody but you. For anything. Duo -- !"

And I picked him up and carried him out of the room, my lips locked to his the whole way.

Trowa watched them go silently. Beside him, Quatre squirmed. Relena, watching, smiled, and then linked her arm through Dorothy's and turned to go to the buffet.

Quatre squirmed.

The taller man stooped and picked up the piece of paper Duo had left lying on the floor. "Quatre," he said a second later.

His lover gave him a faintly sick smile. "Yes, Trowa darling?"

"Is there a particular reason that Duo's invitation to our wedding says that you're going to be marrying Heero?"

The blond man raised his eyebrows. "Does it really? How odd. Perhaps the printers made a mistake. . . ."


The blond gave up. "Well, they'd been fighting. . . and Heero was so unhappy. . . besides, it gives us something funny to tell our kids someday."

"Yeah," Trowa agreed. "We can tell them all about how Uncle Duo gave Uncle Heero a blow job at Daddy and Daddy's wedding rehearsal. How cute would that be?" He sighed and relented under the force of the blond's beautiful puppy dog expression. "Sorry." He offered his soon-to-be husband his arm. As they were walking away, a thought occurred to Trowa. He glanced over his shoulder at Sally Po, dancing with Zechs. "Uh, haven't Wufei and Sally been fighting recently, too? Is Wufei going to show up with an announcement of your wedding to her, too?"

Quatre's expression was wounded. "Of course not, Trowa. I would never do that."

A door at the back of the hall slammed open. "KISAMA!"

Trowa swung his glance back to his partner's face. "Quatre?"

The blond gave him an innocent smile. "He wouldn't believe it. So I told him she was marrying you."


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