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"Bad Company"Written By: Clara Barton & Kangofu_CB Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. The following
is an intellectual exercise with no intention of profit. That said,
these characterizations, words, and situations are mine. Please ask
before reprinting. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: Post-Canon, Undercover Missions, Undercover
as a Couple, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced
Drug Use, Human Trafficking, Gang Violence Pairings: 3x2 Summary: "The only hell and the only paradise are the ones we build ourselves." - Unknown This fic is dark. It explores the way the lines between good and bad, black and white are blurred, for those who work from the inside to bring down the bad guys. Clara and I do not, at any point, get graphic in our descriptions, but there is a lot of sensitive subject matter. We have tagged as clearly as possible, and individual chapters will contain individual warnings. As a general rule this fic contains: implied torture, death, description of a human trafficking organization and its methods, the surrounding implications of human trafficking including forced prostitution and what amounts to slavery, drug and alcohol use, and drug trafficking. We understand that these subjects are not for everyone. We have made every effort to be respectful and accurate without being gratuitous or disturbing. The bad guys are bad. The good guys are, sometimes, not much better. We use a liberal sprinkling of Spanish and Russian in this fic, and neither of us are native speakers of either. We’ve relied heavily on the internet, and so we apologize for any mistakes. We have also included translations at the end of each chapter in the form of footnotes.
"Bad Company" Chapter 7: Big River Now I taught the weeping willow how to cry And I showed the clouds how to cover up a clear blue sky. -Johnny Cash
Trowa woke up suddenly, disoriented, heart racing and eyes snapping wide open as he held himself perfectly still. He had learned, a very long time ago, not to make a sound when he woke - not to move until he knew it was safe to do so. And right now, he felt a creeping sensation of doubt, the knowledge that he wasn't where he should be. It was dark, a soft, cool breeze floating in through an open window and carrying the scent of charcoal and lemon trees to Trowa's nose. The hacienda. But Trowa wasn't in his room, certainly wasn't in his bed, and he wasn't alone. A warm, firm, naked body was pressed against his back, curled against him protectively, a possessive hand fitted over Trowa's hip, and Trowa was sure he was still asleep, sure he was dreaming. And then his brain finally caught up, and he remembered in vivid, visceral detail the events of the day before. Events that had led him to Duo's bed. His face felt stiff and swollen, and there was a pleasant ache through most of his body - probably more from their fight than from the sex that had followed it - but the slight pain was grounding, was real, and made Trowa feel almost sane for the first time in nearly a year. Trowa reached down for Duo's hand and knitted his fingers through the other man's, and then pulled Duo's hand higher, over his chest, and Trowa tried to close his eyes and fall back asleep, tried to take comfort in Duo's presence, in the steady drum of his heartbeat and the tickle of his hair against the back of Trowa's neck. Duo was here, had managed to salvage Trowa's utter loss of control that afternoon with a not-at-all fake suggestion of pent-up sexual attraction, and now... Trowa had made sure he wasn't seen, when he came to Duo's room hours ago, but that didn't mean people wouldn't know. He was sure there were security cameras throughout the hacienda, and had had to spend the last year actively not trying to position himself in likely blind spots. Nothing stayed a secret at the hacienda. If they didn't know already, soon everyone would know that Trowa had spent the night in Duo's bed and- And what happened next? Trowa knew that, realistically, it was safer for him to leave, maybe convince Duo to let it be known how unimpressed he was with Trowa's prowess and- "Stop," Duo growled, voice rough with sleep. "What?" "Whatever the fuck it is you're thinking about, stop." Duo shifted against him, throwing one leg over both of Trowa's. "Just stop." Trowa huffed in irritation. "This is a bad idea, Duo. We should-" "Don't you fucking dare ." Duo's voice was sharp and low, the words hot on Trowa's shoulder. "Don't you dare push me away again." Trowa swallowed hard, and then sighed. He had learned, the hard way, that there were very few things that set Duo Maxwell off. The man who had spent most of his life associating himself with death had a surprisingly firm hand on his temper, but one sure way to make him furious was Trowa being a fucking idiot , in Duo's opinion. And he was using the tone of voice that indicated that that was exactly what he thought Trowa was doing. Trowa tried to roll over, towards Duo, but the other man was ahead of him, pulling Trowa onto his back and moving to straddle him, rising up above him in the darkness, bracketing Trowa's body between his thighs and glaring down at him. "If you think, for one second, that I'm going to let you just walk out of here and go back to ignoring me, you're dumber than I ever gave you credit for." "Duo-" " Trowa . Get your head out of your ass. We talked about this. I'm here . I'm in it. Stop trying to push me away or- or whatever the fuck it is you're doing," Duo added in a low, furious whisper. "So, what, we're fine now? We're going to walk out of this room and start holding hands?" Duo ran a hand through his own hair in frustration. "No, of fucking course not. But- Why the fuck won't you just let me-" Trowa knew what Duo was about to say. Let me help you . Words that he absolutely couldn't hear, and that Duo shouldn't risk saying out loud. "As if anyone has ever been able to stop you from doing exactly what you want," Trowa interrupted. Duo drew in a breath, nodding, accepting the warning and the save. "Tell me you don't want me, then," Duo said after a moment of silent consideration. "Tell me you haven't thought about this," he rolled his hips over Trowa's groin, "since the moment you saw me." Duo could just be talking about sex, certainly made it sound as if he was just talking about sex, but the look on his face made it clear this wasn't just sex, made it clear that he was offering Trowa so much more than that. Which was the problem. Because more than that meant letting Duo in, it meant letting Duo see just how far Trowa had gone to achieve so very little. It meant Duo seeing just how fucked up things were, how fucked up he was, and Trowa knew... He knew he had crossed too many lines, had strayed so far off the path that Duo would see it too. "Duo-" The other man grabbed his left hand, turning it so that Trowa was looking at his own palm, at the tattoos on the underside of his forearm. "Remember this?" Duo asked, thumb resting just under the words tattooed at the base of Trowa's hand. Til Death . Duo had gotten the lion, that night, and Trowa had had those words inked into his skin, had been breathless with tension and doubt while Duo looked over the shiny ink, and then had felt a rush of adrenaline and relief when Duo's lips quirked upwards in his familiar, lopsided grin. "Yes," the word left Trowa's mouth in a rush as he tried to stifle all of his emotions and memories. "Do you still mean it?" "Duo-" "Do you still mean it?" Trowa closed his eyes. Why was Duo so fucking stubborn? "Yes," he repeated the word. "Then let me ." Duo leaned down. "Let me do this with you, Trowa." He said the words against Trowa's cheek, lips grazing over Trowa's skin. Trowa turned his head, just enough so that his lips brushed against Duo's, and it was far closer to begging than he wanted to admit, but Duo accepted it, fitting his mouth to Trowa's and kissing him until they were both panting, until all Trowa could think about was the feel of Duo in his arms. From somewhere on the floor, Trowa's phone squawked, the loud, obnoxious alarm that signalled an incoming message. Duo growled into Trowa's mouth, pressing him farther back on the bed, but Trowa shifted, wrapping one arm around Duo to keep him from spilling to the floor, and tried to reach for the phone. He managed to find the leg of his pants, and he tugged them closer until he could actually reach into the back pocket and pull out the phone. Trowa reluctantly pulled away from Duo. "Someone better be fucking dead. Or they're about to be," Duo said as Trowa pulled up his recent messages. His stomach dropped. CARGO INBOUND. ETA 2 HOURS. SECURE THE LZ. "We've got work to do," he told Duo. The other man glanced at the phone, and his lips tightened into a thin, angry line. But then he turned to Trowa, tilting Trowa's chin up so that their eyes met. "Yeah," Duo said, " we do." Trowa swallowed hard and nodded. Duo favored him with that same lopsided grin, the one that made Trowa momentarily forget his own name. But there was a dark edge to it, Shinigami, and that made Trowa's pulse race. He dropped the phone to the bed and put his hands on either side of Duo's face and pulled him close. Their lips met in a kiss that was hard, was nearly bruising with the force they both exerted, and by the time Duo broke free with a ragged gasp, they were both hard, chests heaving, and the absolute last thing Trowa wanted to do was move. "That wasn't fucking fair, Barton," Duo growled, and leaned forward, clearly intent on taking this to its natural conclusion. "Don't start something you can't finish." Trowa groaned as Duo ground against him, the friction and force against his cock the best kind of torture. What was fifteen more minutes? Hell, they didn't even need that much time. But Trowa wanted it, wanted much more, but he would take what he could get. He moved his hands down Duo's shoulders, over his back and to his waist, holding him steady as Trowa shifted, holding him even as he flipped Duo onto his back on the bed. Duo chuckled and nipped at Trowa's jaw. "Show off," he muttered, and then groaned when Trowa wrapped one hand around his cock, squeezing slightly as he stroked from root to tip. Duo pulled Trowa's face back to his to kiss him, and Trowa drank him in, savoring the feel, the taste, of the man he had dreamed about for a year. He continued to work his hand over Duo's length, and the other man shifted under him, hips bucking up to meet the movements. Trowa greedily swallowed the soft, slight growls of pleasure Duo made, and then pulled away so that he could look down at Duo. The other man's eyes fixed on his, and it didn't matter that it was dark, didn't matter that Trowa had an ocean of hell between himself and the other man. In that moment, they were connected. In that moment, nothing else mattered, and there was nothing Trowa cared about more. Duo kissed him again, softer this time, lips a caress over his, tongue gliding over his in a way that made Trowa shudder, and then Duo shifted, trailing kisses over Trowa's cheek and to his ear, laving at the sensitive lobe and finding the spot that always made Trowa gasp. Duo chuckled when he earned the reaction from Trowa, hoarse and erotic, and Trowa decided not to let that stand. He shifted down Duo's body, licking and nipping at his skin, mapping the body he knew so well, eliciting gasps and hisses as he found all of his favorite spots. And then he arrived at Duo's groin, at the erection that jutted out, demanding attention. Trowa held Duo's eyes as he swept his tongue over the head of Duo's cock, smearing the precum there. Duo drew in a sharp breath and his hips surged upwards, barely stayed by Trowa's hands moving to hold him in place. "Fuck," Duo groaned as Trowa traced down the underside and then around the base before returning to the head. Slowly, Trowa took Duo's length into his mouth, tongue teasing, teeth just barely scraping, and Duo struggled to remain still, to let Trowa- There was a knock on the door. "Fuck off!" Duo called out, and then paused. "Or fuck off, please, ma'am ." Trowa grinned around his mouthful, still working to swallow Duo. "We're looking for Trowa." It was Matvei, and he sounded equal parts hesitant and irritated. "He's fucking busy," Duo growled, and Trowa choked on a laugh. "We need to head out to the airfield and-" Duo made a strangled, frustrated sound in the back of his throat. "I'm going to fucking kill him, Tro," he said, voice low and deadly serious. Trowa reluctantly released Duo, pausing to give one last teasing swipe of his tongue before he moved back up to kiss Duo. "Get in line," he said, and then crawled off of Duo and the bed to start rooting around for his clothes. There was another knock on the door. "Give us a goddamn minute." Duo's voice brooked absolutely no argument, and Trowa imagined that Matvei and whoever else was out there likely took a step - or a few - backwards at the tone. He found himself smirking as he pulled on his pants. Duo caught the look, dressing himself, and rolled his eyes. Duo picked up his shirt, the one that Trowa had used to wipe himself clean with earlier, and grimaced. He tossed it Trowa's way, but Trowa ducked it with a smirk. Duo muttered something under his breath as he rooted through his bureau for another shirt. Trowa sat down on the bed to put on his socks and shoes and find his phone in the tousled sheets. As he stood back up, Duo, fully dressed, handed him his shirt. Before Trowa could put it on, Duo wrapped one hand around his neck and pulled him down for one last kiss. "This isn't over," he said. "It better not be," Trowa agreed. Duo grin was fierce as he stepped away and yanked his door open. Sure enough, Matvei and the other two enforcers with him were pressed against the opposite wall, eyes darting from the clearly furious Duo to Trowa as he pulled his shirt over his head. Matvei looked comically shocked. "Pick your jaw off the floor," Trowa suggested, and Matvei closed his mouth with an audible clack of teeth. Trowa kept his face neutral, but Duo, shocking no one, had the bad grace to laugh. He took a step closer to Matvei, and Trowa could see him flinch, could see him shift his injured arm farther away. "The next time you interrupt me when I'm getting phenomenal head, you and I are going to have words," he promised, and then he sized up the other two enforcers. "Who's driving?" Javier, one of the younger enforcers that Anhil had recruited after Alessandra's coup, raised his hand tentatively. "Toss me the keys, then," Duo commanded. Javier darted a look to Trowa, who nodded. "Let him drive. If he doesn't kill us, he'll get us there quicker than anyone else could." Duo's grin was feral as he caught the keys and pocketed them. "Shall we?" he asked with a dramatic sweep of his hand. Trowa followed him out of the room, but it wasn't until he was sliding into the front passenger seat that he let himself focus on the reality that waited for them at the airfield. The reality of Trowa having Duo assist him in processing L3 colonials, drug mules who were soon to become something even worse and more hopeless, men and women who were suffering a fate both Duo and Trowa had only escaped by dumb luck. -o- Everything went perfectly according to plan until Matvei couldn't resist fucking with Duo. The cargo shuttle arrived right on time, and in the dead of night, with the airfield lights cut and only the lights of the trucks and the shuttle to illuminate the area, they managed to process every single palomnik without incident. Duo, stone-faced, PP-2000 dangling idly from his shoulder strap, stood beside the shuttle hatch with Haverford while the accountant checked off the names of the arriving colonials against the manifest that had left L3. Trowa stayed far away from him, tried his level best not to look at him, and so positioned himself near the trucks, loading the palomniks into them, looking at their tired, frightened faces as he handed them up. Each touch, each hand he pressed or sobbing breath he heard, was like chiseling off another layer of himself, leaving him sick and raw and afraid to look at Duo while Duo drove them to the lumber mill, leading the convoy of trucks through the windy roads. Duo's driving was always fast. He always took curves sharp, and treated potholes like personal challenges. Tonight was no different, but Duo's face was pale and tight, the smirk on his face fixed. At the lumber mill, Matvei stumbled out of the Jeep looking a little green, and the glint in his eyes as he took in Duo's sullen expression were warning enough for Trowa. He moved to step between them, sliding behind Duo as they walked back to the trucks to start unloading. "Hey, jefe ," Matvei called, his tone sarcastic, "who's gonna pull the drugs today? Cuz I've already done it, and Javier had to do it last time, and you've done it, and so have all the other chapos ." Trowa knew exactly what he was getting at, and he was absolutely not going to let it happen. "Which means you know how to do it right. And you've still got one good hand, don't you?" Trowa snarled at him. Matvei glowered, but he wisely kept his mouth shut. Javier, however, was young and dumb. "Doesn't seem fair, though. Any pendejo can pull a bag out." Trowa clenched his jaw. That wasn't, strictly speaking, true. During the second shipment Trowa had ever processed, one of the enforcers, Juan, hadn't been paying attention, and he had punctured the bag. It hadn't been a pleasant death. For either the palomnik or for Juan, who Salome had beaten nearly to death with a stiletto boot before Anhil finally shot him and told Trowa to bury him. Javier had been present for that. So had Matvei. Looking at them now, it was clear both men were thinking about it, cruel edges to their smirks. Duo rolled his shoulders, and Trowa could see him considering it, weighing the dangers of ignoring the taunt. "It's not like you haven't gotten your hands dirty before," Matvei added. Trowa whirled on him, furious and ready to continue their fight from earlier, but Duo's hand shot out, grabbing his arm and holding him back. "That's true," Duo agreed, voice low, "but you've got no idea just where my hands have been, wey . I saw Trowa beat the shit out of you earlier, so maybe your brain's a bit fucked up right now." Matvei registered the reminder and the clear threat, and he stood down, face flushed and eyes darting between Trowa and Duo as he finally seemed to realize that he was facing a united front. "I'll do it," Duo said into the chilled, tense silence. "Duo-" " Jefe , unless you wanna do it yourself, I'm doing it," Duo growled, and then stormed off. Trowa spared Matvei and Javier one last glare, and then turned to follow him. It had been a smaller shipment, only 124 palomniks , but by the time Duo pulled the last condom filled with carfentanil from the last colonial, the sun had risen, casting their activities with the harsh light of day. Trowa assigned the watch rotation - Matvei and Javier on the first eight-hour rotation, and he sincerely hoped they fell asleep or fucked up so he would have the chance to do something about it - and then he climbed back into the Jeep with Duo to drive back to the hacienda. They were alone, but Duo tore across the windy back roads with such ferocity that all Trowa could do was hang on and wonder if this was how he would die. When they got back, Duo parked and reached for the keys. Trowa stopped him, grabbing Duo's hand before he could pull them out of the ignition. "Duo." "Tro," he growled, not meeting Trowa's eyes. This. This was what Trowa hadn't wanted. This was why he had insisted on being sent on the op. This was the nightmare he had wanted to spare Duo from. In a lot of ways, their childhoods had been similar, and both of them had grown up knowing that survival meant doing whatever it took to stay alive. But growing up in a mercenary group, where grown men fucked and got high and murdered for money was very different than growing up on the streets where children were forced to do all of those same things, where Duo had done enough of those things - too many of those things. And now, he had spent four hours pulling bags full of drugs from the rectums of colonials who were being trafficked into slavery. Trowa didn't even know what to say. He had no comfort for the other man, and besides, Duo would sooner punch him than accept an apology or anything like that. He squeezed their joined hands, and a moment later, Duo sighed and squeezed back. "We should go inside before someone notices we're out here holding hands," Duo said. Trowa let him go, burying the hurt and frustration he felt at Duo pushing him away so abruptly. He was, after all, right. It was still early in the morning, but Anhil was awake, leg propped on a cushion, sitting on the couch and with a computer in his lap. He looked up at their entrance. "What did you do with the other chapos ?" Anhil asked, joking, but with an undertone of trepidation in his voice. "02 drives like a bat out of hell. They'll be here soon," Trowa explained. "Matvei and Javier have the first watch." Anhil nodded and looked both of them over, dark eyes impossible to read. " Las damas want to see you," he finally said. Duo rolled his shoulders in a move that was somewhere between a shrug and a stretch. "Am I allowed to shower first?" he asked. Anhil smirked. "You don't have to get yourself pretty for them, lisichka ." A muscle in Duo's jaw jumped, but he shrugged again and stalked down the hall that led to Alessandra's office. Anhil gave Trowa a meaningful look. "What?" he asked. Anhil smirked. "You two work well together, manito , just like I said you would." Trowa rolled his eyes. "Smug doesn't suit you," he growled. Anhil's laugh followed him down the hall and into Alessandra's office, where Duo was being gestured into a chair by Salome. Trowa took the chair beside him, and couldn't help but feel a little resentful of how rested and clean both Salome and Alessandra looked. Then again, he didn't think a lifetime of showers would make him feel clean again. "You did good work today," Alessandra said, leaning back in the leather chair behind her desk and regarding them with a slight, pleased smile. As if they were precocious children or well-behaved pets. But they were neither, and the tension radiating off of Duo was making Trowa remember when they were children, when they piloted giant machines of death, when they had been stupid enough to think they could save humanity. "Yeah? Did Matvei also tell you that I caught his fuck-up when some of the palomniks managed to hide in the trucks at the lumber mill?" Duo had kept count, as he pulled the bags out of them, and he had been the one to glare when Trowa said that was the last one, had insisted there were still two more to go. Trowa had found the two girls in one of the trucks, buried under a pile of filthy blankets, whimpering and crying. "Haverford informed us that you were particularly useful," Alessandra said. Trowa blinked in surprise. Duo had been guessing, he was sure, when he suggested Matvei had been la mujer's spy that night. But Alessandra had corrected him, had given him information that she hadn't had to. He had known that Alessandra liked Duo, was amused by him and pleased with his competence. He even knew that Salome enjoyed the way that Duo's very presence set so many of the chapo's teeth on edge. But she was making it very clear that she trusted Duo, and Trowa. More than she had before. Trowa risked glancing at Salome, and was disconcerted to find the blonde-haired woman's icy gaze already on him. "You will continue to do the shipments," Alessandra decided. She waved a hand. "And yes, we will give you your bonus pay and your days off." Her smile turned sharp. "So long as you continue to do your other work to our standards." Duo leaned back in his chair. "Fine. When do I get my first day off?" Salome smirked. "When do you want it, lisichka ?" Duo pushed his bangs out of his eyes and turned to Trowa with a smirk. "What are you doing tomorrow?" Trowa was taken aback by the question, and felt a few seconds of panic. He had a meet scheduled with Zechs tomorrow night. Duo didn't know, couldn't have known - although he certainly knew that Trowa was still periodically watching the damn clown pornography. "I'm going to the races in San Benito," he said. "Why? You want to come with me?" Duo's smirk was like a knife. "Me? I'm not much of a gambler." Everyone in the room laughed at that. "Take me surfing in the morning." Trowa snorted. "It's April." "And it's ninety degrees outside. What, you afraid of a little cold?" As it happened, Trowa was afraid of a little cold, which Duo well knew. "Run along," Alessandra sighed. "And make your plans on your own time. But, lisichka , we need to discuss your little gift for the Snakeheads later, hmm?" Duo nodded, and he and Trowa made their escape from the office. The other man started down the hall towards the living quarters, and Trowa tentatively followed him. Duo paused beside his door, and Trowa, several feet away, stopped and looked at his tense back warily. "Duo?" "I need to shower. And I need a fucking nap. We'll talk later," Duo said, not even looking over his shoulder at Trowa before he opened his door, stepped into the room, and closed the door behind himself. He stared at the closed door for a moment, feeling inept and furious, but then he noticed Veta, the palomnik who had outlasted all of the others who normally took Salome's fancy, at the end of the hall. She arched one perfect eyebrow at him and then sauntered away. Trowa felt like hitting something. It was a shame he had given Matvei the first watch, because punching the wall in his own room wasn't nearly as satisfying as it would have been to hit that idiot again. -o- The next day dawned distressingly bright, the sky a cloudless blue above the trees encircling the compound, and Trowa reluctantly rose from his bed and showered. He had showered last night, had scrubbed his skin until it felt raw and the water had grown cold. His normal routine. That morning, however, the shower was quick and perfunctory, more an attempt to wake himself up and clear his head than a futile attempt to feel clean . Afterwards, he dressed in shorts and a t-shirt and a battered pair of sneakers that had somehow managed to escape any blood stains after all of this time. Trowa cautiously knocked on Duo's door, a sharp rap of his knuckles one, twice, and then gave up when he heard nothing from within the room. He wasn't enough of an idiot to try forcing his way in. Instead, he made his way downstairs to the kitchen. This early, and after the late night of work, the common areas were blessedly silent and empty. The kitchen, however, was occupied by none other than Duo. It was oddly reminiscent of that time weeks ago, when Trowa had walked in and Duo had been eating an apple, when Trowa had begged Duo to leave him alone. He fought aside the sense of deja vu as he made himself a cup of coffee. The silence felt drawn and brittle by the time Trowa finally turned around and looked at the other man. There were faint shadows under his eyes, and his smirk looked worn around the edges. "Sleep well?" he asked, as neutrally as he could. Duo snorted, and his eyes raked over Trowa's face, searching for something. "You mean without your bony ass in my bed trying to steal all the blankets?" Trowa shrugged one shoulder, wondering if Duo was challenging him. "Not really, no," Duo admitted to the obvious. Trowa nodded, but wasn't entirely sure what to say. He knew that feeling all too well. After a moment, Duo sighed and reached into the bowl of fruit on the counter in front of him. He tossed an apple in Trowa's direction, sending it in a lazy, looping arc. Trowa caught it easily. "Ready to surf?" Duo asked him as he threw away his own apple core. "No," Trowa answered honestly. "It's going to be freezing." Duo snorted. "It's barely 8am, and it's already ninety degrees, Tro. You're going to be fine." Trowa knew better than to argue the point, so instead, he finished his coffee, set the empty mug in the sink, and followed Duo out of the kitchen. He tossed Duo the keys to the Jeep without Duo asking, and as Duo started to drive, Trowa settled into the passenger seat and ate his apple. There was music playing, something on a local station, some kind of ranchera music that Trowa could only half follow. Things were somewhere between comfortable and tense, teetering on a balance point, and Trowa was afraid to push things one way or another. Duo drove them towards the coast, away from downtown Mazatlan and further south. While the tropical temperatures meant that tourists visited the area year-round, the beaches were relatively empty, Trowa couldn't help but notice. He didn't point that out, however. After all, Duo had eyes. Eventually, Duo pulled into the parking lot of a run-down motel that had a netted cache of worn-looking surfboards leaning against a storage shed. Trowa arched an eyebrow at first the motel and then Duo. "We can rent some boards," Duo explained. "Or we could rent a room," Trowa suggested. Duo gave him a look, half-considering, half-aggravated. But then he muttered something in Spanish, something about the water, and Trowa decided not to push it. Instead, he followed Duo into the manager's office and leaned against the wall as Duo, charming smile on his face, negotiated for two surfboards. Trowa could follow enough of the conversation to know that the manager thought they were insane, but the flash of hard currency allayed his concerns, and he cheerfully pocketed the cash and led them to the surfboards. Smirking, Duo tucked his board under one arm and started across the street, towards the beach. Trowa rolled his eyes and grabbed the other board from the manager. He heard the man mutter something that sounded a lot like estúpidos chicos blancos. In complete agreement, Trowa jogged a little to catch up to Duo. The other man had paused a few feet from the water's edge, dark eyes scanning the water, wind setting his hair to dancing around his face. "Cold feet?" Trowa suggested. Duo snorted. "It's not that cold," he muttered. "Mm. You try it out first, then. I'll wait here." Trowa tossed his own board down onto the sand and sat on it. Duo looked down at him, shook his head, and then toed off his shoes. He pulled off his shirt and emptied his pockets onto the garment. Trowa let himself look over Duo's body, his gaze hungry for the sight. The familiar tattoos and scars that told the character of the other man had haunted Trowa's dreams for a year. There was something bittersweet about seeing them now, this close, about knowing he could reach out and touch them. But then Duo picked up his board and started to sprint towards the water. Duo splashed through the shallows, board floating at his side, and then dove under a wave just as it broke. He came up a moment later, and even over the roar of the ocean, Trowa could hear Duo's shocked, angry cry. Trowa couldn't help but smirk as Duo immediately started back for the shore. "It's fucking freezing!" Duo shouted, a sopping, furious mess as he trudged through the sand and back to Trowa. "I know," Trowa said, and managed to finally kill his smirk when Duo stopped in front of him. Duo tossed down his board in disgust, lips twisted into a scowl, glaring out at the ocean in betrayal. Trowa let him sulk for a moment, and then held up his hand. Duo looked down at him, and Trowa took his hand. When Duo didn't pull away, Trowa pulled Duo down into his lap and situated Duo's wet back to his front, bending his knees to tuck Duo between his legs. "Let me warm you up," he suggested, and nuzzled against Duo's neck, licking at the saltwater running from his hair in thick rivulets. Duo shivered, either from the cold or Trowa's touch, and leaned back into him. "I just wanted one fucking day," Duo muttered. "One fucking day for us ." Trowa felt Duo's disappointment and frustration so keenly that they might have been his own. Hell, they were his own. He felt the same way. It was as if the world had conspired against him, as if the world always conspired against them. As if they would never be able to simply be - together, at peace - anything. Trowa rested his chin on Duo's shoulder and wrapped his arms around Duo's chest, keeping his hold loose, offering solidarity. They sat in silence for a while, long enough for Duo to relax into his embrace and for Trowa to feel the heat of the sun warm his back. "Remember that time our flight was cancelled in Rome?" Trowa asked. "After we finished the Perfetti op?" Duo nodded. "Yeah. Our bags were already loaded, but the weather in Brussels was shit so we rented a car and drove back." "And stopped in Aldorf to stay at that inn for the night?" Trowa continued. Duo snorted a laugh at the memory. "You told the innkeeper we were on our honeymoon." Trowa smirked against Duo's hair. "I wanted the best room." "Well, we got it. Jesus, fuck, remember that bathtub? It was like the size of our apartment back home." "The bed was a decent size, too," Trowa reminisced. "The fireplace was nice," Duo's voice was softer. The fireplace had been nice. They had sat in front of it, late into the night, curled together in the same position they sat now, looking into the flames and determinedly not talking about the op they had just finished, and the ops that had come before that, or the ops that they would go on in the future. "We had that day," Trowa said, voice almost lost on the wind. "Yeah," Duo agreed, and turned enough in Trowa's arms to press a kiss to his lips, "we had that day." -o- Anhil had taken Trowa to the races, his first time. Had dragged Trowa down there to act as muscle while Anhil roughed up a jockey who had, according to Salome, gained weight and ruined her day - and lost her several thousand dollars - because of his fat ass . Trowa hadn't cared for horse racing before that day. Certainly didn't have any positive feelings towards it after. He hadn't been surprised when Zechs had named it as the place for their next meet - after all, baseball season was over, and Zechs seemed to have a particular talent for setting Trowa up to be, at the least, uncomfortable. Which was why Trowa so often went out of his way to return the favor. As he and Duo stood in the line at one of the food trucks set up just yards away from the dirt track and the rows of dilapidated wooden bleachers, Trowa considered just how best to offend his handler. "Hot dogs?" Duo mused. Trowa shook his head. "I did that last time." Trowa smirked as he remembered the expression on Zechs's face. "He looked ready to vomit." Duo smirked, a cruel edge to the expression. It had been Heero who discovered - and divulged - the intel that Zechs was a fastidious eater, that Zechs had looked caught between an aneurysm and nausea as he watched Heero slurp noodles. Heero, of course, had only slurped louder, had let some of the noodles slip from his mouth and fall back into the bowl, had chewed the vegetables in the noodle bowl loudly and with his mouth open. Zechs had stormed out of the restaurant. Wufei had reported similar success after ordering some kind of barbecued tofu, had been disgusted himself as he slathered the sauce all over his own lips and chin. But, he had added with a smirk and a glimmer in his dark eyes, it had been worth it. Not to be left out, Duo and Trowa had joined in the game. Even Quatre, once , had had a lunch meeting with Zechs and ordered mousse for dessert, and had, for perhaps the only time in his life, eaten messily. Since Trowa had the dubious pleasure of having been assigned Zechs as his more or less permanent handler, he interacted with their former enemy the most. And Duo, who was assigned on his own long-term ops and, luckily, had Sally as his handler, engaged with the blond-haired man the least. He had, predictably and not at all disappointingly, insisted on accompanying Trowa to the meet. "Nachos," they decided at the same moment, sharing a dark, satisfied grin with each other. They decided to split one, drowning the corn chips in so many layers of salsa, cheese, beans, guacamole and shredded beef that Trowa wasn't even sure there were chips under the tower. Duo carried their beers while Trowa balanced the mess. Neither bothered to get napkins before working their way through the crowd. They stood by the track for a few minutes, casually watching the in-progress race while also scanning the bleachers for Zechs. "Seven o'clock," Duo muttered. "What the fuck is on his face ?" Trowa glanced over his shoulder, saw that Zechs's goatee had grown fuller, a little darker than the rest of his hair, and was every bit as hideous as it had been before. "I know," he said, and started to walk towards the bleachers. "It's not like he's got anything else going for him. Why the fuck does he have to ruin his face? I have to look at him, for fuck's sake," Duo whined as he fell into step just behind Trowa. "Maybe he thinks it looks good," Trowa offered. Duo's derisive snort made Trowa smirk, an expression that he quickly killed as he and Duo climbed onto the bench beside Zechs, Trowa shoving his thigh up against Zechs's, forcing himself into the other man's personal space. Zechs glared at him, adjusted the baseball cap on his head, and subtly tried to shift away. Duo bumped his knee against Trowa's, shoving him closer to Zechs, before reaching for the nachos balanced in Trowa's lap and digging down for a chip. Trowa nearly lost control of his own neutral expression when he saw the disgusted horror on Zechs's face. Duo somehow maneuvered his handful into his mouth and released a moan of pleasure. "This is fucking good. Tro, you gotta try one of these." Duo reached back for another nacho, fingers dripping with toppings, and held it up to Trowa's mouth. Trowa obligingly parted his lips, and Duo nudged the chip into his mouth, using one finger to smear salsa onto his chin. Zechs made a noise of acute distress as Trowa flicked his tongue out to lick the salsa off. "Want some?" Duo leaned around Trowa, directly addressing Zechs. The blond-haired man glared at him for a moment before his eyes scanned the area around them. "No one followed us," Trowa muttered. "And we scanned the crowd before we approached. None of our people are here." "Maybe he's worried about his Preventers backup seeing him act like a fucking human," Duo offered, mouth full of another helping of chips. "If you two can bring yourselves to focus on the matter at hand, I'm not interested in playing your little games. We have serious work to do." Trowa's jaw clenched at the unnecessary reminder, and beside him, Duo tensed. "Oh? Do we? Here I was thinking this was that fucking vacation time I've been owed for two years. Tro, you told me this was a holiday. I mean, that's why we've been sitting on our asses by the pool all day, right?" Hearing Duo voice the words that Trowa couldn't, hearing his unbanked rage at Zechs's words and his attitude, were strangely not at all comforting. It was, in fact, a reminder that Duo should not be here. A reminder that Trowa had failed in the one thing that mattered to him, keeping Duo out of this shit. "Things are starting to fray at the compound," Trowa said, earning surprised glances from both men. "Anhil was injured a few weeks ago - I've taken over most of his responsibilities, and they've shifted Duo to cover some of his work as well. We're trusted. More now than I was before Duo arrived. Duo's also been... inspiring tension within the ranks." Duo snorted. "That's one way of putting it. I've also, you know, in between working on my tan and getting pedicures, cooked up the software we need to take down the cartel. And," Duo paused and picked up a dripping nacho, "just because I'm fucking awesome, I'm also working to take down the Snakeheads. Alessandra's rivalry with them is going to fuck up our own plans, but it's an opportunity for us too." Trowa nodded in agreement. He didn't know the details of anything Duo was working on - it was safer that way, for all of them - but he wasn't surprised that, already, Duo had laid a foundation for the demise of the cartel. Maybe. Hopefully. That was the danger, the reason that no other agencies had been able to take out the organization that had survived for hundreds of years. Take down one leader, and another rose, often more vicious than the last. Take out one base of operations, and another, more secure and more secret, was built. Take out one supply route, and another would be used. Trowa still didn't know who at Preventers had decided to take on the cartel, who had come up with this plan in the first place, even, but he had had his own doubts from the beginning. Doubts that had only been magnified during the course of this op. The only way to truly bring down the cartel - if such a thing was even possible - was to take out the leadership, the supply of both drugs and humans, and discover and publicly prosecute the buyers. It had to happen in one fell swoop, in one massive op that used the intel that Duo was gathering, that took advantage of the breakdown in operations that Trowa had been working towards. Preventers needed to not only get the intel, but to get the leadership, to get the L3 contacts, and to make it as painfully clear as possible to anyone else - anyone wanting to take the cartel's place, from the Snakeheads to would-be chapos - that it simply wasn't possible to do business this way anymore. "I have intel that will impact your operations," Zechs said, determinedly not looking at Duo as he continued to noisily, messily eat. The last time Zechs had delivered intel to Trowa, weeks before Duo's arrival, Trowa had had to throw away his blood-stained clothes after failing to clean them despite twenty minutes of scrubbing the same spot over and over again. "What?" he asked between gritted teeth. "A team on L3 has been trailing one of the suppliers. We're going to seize the next shipment." Beside him, Duo sucked in a breath. "Are you insane?" Trowa hissed. "We've just managed to get further into their trust. I said that things were fraying - if you do this, everything could fall apart. Do you know what happened the last time a cargo was seized? Do you have any idea what logic Salome uses when she picks a victim to take her rage out on after something like that? Because I sure as fuck don't. Duo is the newest member of the crew - the only unknown element. If this goes down, she could-" "She's unpredictable, yes, I am aware. That's a risk we have to take. And your attitude, Barton, makes me question your ability to do your job. Do you know what will happen when we seize that cargo? Two hundred or more innocent civilians will be free. Two hundred or more men and women won't end their lives in slavery. And that is the entire point of this operation, is it not? To end this sort of barbarism?" Zechs's voice was low and cold, beyond annoyed, and instead furious. His words sliced into Trowa, and it was all Trowa could do to remain seated, between Zechs's icy fury on one side and Duo's nearly incandescent rage on his other. "We can save two hundred, or we can save two hundred thousand," Duo said, his words and tone measured and painfully even. "If you do this - if you let this cargo be seized - we risk this entire operation." Zechs sneered. "The matter has been decided. I am not telling you to gather your unnecessary opinions. I am simply informing you. With the new Earthsphere Trade legislation going into effect next month, and the decreased restrictions on travel and cargo shuttles, this might be one of our last opportunities to seize one of the cartel's shipments. This will only help us. The PR alone will earn-" "The fucking PR?" Duo breathed, his anger so palpable the words felt like blows. "Do you even fucking hear yourself?" "Do you hear yourself? Either of you?" Zechs shot back. "You knew the risks when you signed up. This is what you do. This is what we do." Duo snorted. "We, huh? Funny, I didn't see you helping Trowa dig a ditch out behind the tool shed last week to bury those palomniks that Salome got tired of. That goatee of yours is better camouflage than I thought." Zechs didn't respond, didn't even look at Duo. "Was there anything else?" Trowa asked after watching a horse go down on the track. He watched the jockey cling to the horse's neck, watched the trainers approaching with slumped shoulders and downcast eyes. "Make sure the contingency plans are in place. In case Salome acts out against either of you." With those comforting words, Zechs left. Trowa shoved the nachos into Duo's hands. He had long ago lost his appetite, but now, just the warm weight of the thing was making his stomach twist. When , he wondered, did it become too much? Zechs was wrong - the Preventers were wrong. Damn the PR, but saving one cargo of civilians endangered thousands of others. But. But who even knew if they could save thousands? Maybe that one cargo shipment was all that they could save. Wasn't it worth it, if just one person escaped the fate that so many couldn't? Trowa didn't know, anymore. Each day here, logic seemed further away. Morality. Ethics. What was the value of human life? Notes:Translations: Jefe: boss |
