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"Of All People"Written By: Clara Barton 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: AU, academic au, nice and fluffy, no
really, happy endings and fun times and SMUT Pairings: 3x2, 3x6, 5x4, 1xH Summary: After his relationship with Zechs ends, Trowa meets Duo - a vaguely familiar, handsome stranger who promises to help him forget his ex. A/N: For Kangofu-CB. This past month has been absolute hell, and you got me through it. You got me through the year, really, and I can never thank you enough for being you.
A/N2: Thank you as always and forever to Ro for amazing support and superb editing. I am so damn lucky to have you.
"Of All People"
It was that point in the spring semester that Trowa started to feel as if he would never catch up on grading and that he hadn't actually been caught up on grading in something like fifty-seven years. Never mind that he was only twenty-nine, or that, in reality, he was just ten days behind on his grades. But ten days, between his four classes, and his eighty-seven students, meant fifty tests, seventeen midterm research essays, and twenty research presentations to grade. Plus, of course, fifteen students to advise for their fall semester classes and his work on the Sustainability Committee, and why had he agreed to chair the Earth Day Festival? And then, of course, there was the issue with the email servers. In early February, the women's soccer team had had a late night hazing ritual with their freshmen in Robbins Hall, which hosted IT and, bizarrely, several coaches' offices, and their hijinks had resulted in three servers being damaged - two badly enough that they had needed to be replaced, and Trowa hadn't even known a server was a physical thing - the email system for the university had been selective, at best. Trowa was still periodically getting emails postmarked from the first week of March, even though it was now the second week of April. Including several emails from his department chair urging Trowa to apply for conference funding - deadlines which had now passed - and a string of emails from the Faculty Office telling him to schedule his class observations. Each spring, tenure track faculty were subjected to observations from one of their departmental colleagues, and two from faculty outside of their field. Trowa had been fortunate enough to have Sally Po, his mentor and the reason he had even applied for this position in the first place, observe his Eastern European History class last month. His other two observers - a math professor who had shown up late and left after only ten minutes of scribbling on his notebook and a sports management professor who had stayed for the duration of his Sex in 20th Century Europe class and even lingered after to ask him several questions - had been fine. Trowa, as a first year professor, hadn't really thought he would be called on to observe anyone else's classes. But apparently he had been - back in February. And the Faculty Office was incredibly irate that he had yet to respond. Trowa wrote an appropriately apologetic email first to the Faculty Office and then to Dr. Maxwell, the organic chemistry professor Trowa had apparently stood up for the last six weeks, and scheduled the class observation for Friday afternoon. It was criminal, Trowa couldn't help but think as he trudged across campus to the sprawling concrete monolith that housed the science departments in the cold wind and light rain, to schedule a chemistry lab on a Friday at four pm. Trowa couldn't imagine the students were particularly happy about it, and he found it hard to believe there were many professors all that eager to give up the chance for a long weekend by teaching a class that wasn't scheduled to end until 6:30. By the time he made it to the building, it was 3:55. And by the time he found a stairwell that, presumably, would take him from the 2nd floor down to the basement level, it was 4:00. He was already going to be late, and, now from personal experience, he knew exactly how annoying that would be for Dr. Maxwell. Trowa also couldn't find the damn room once he made it to the basement. Room 007 didn't seem to actually exist . He found 006 and 008 and- The entire floor, Trowa realized ten minutes later, was evenly numbered. There were no odd numbers at all. With a frustrated groan, Trowa finally knocked on the closed office door of a Dr. Schbeiker. He could see a light on under the door, and after he knocked, he heard two muffled voices, a series of thumps, and what sounded like something shattering on the floor followed by a decidedly less muffled voice. "Damnit, Heero - that was my favorite mug!" Hesitantly, Trowa knocked again. The voice was female, and when the door opened a moment later, Trowa was confronted by a petite, dark-haired woman with smeared blue lipstick on her mouth and, standing behind her and hastily tucking his shirt back into his pants, was a man with similarly smeared lipstick around his own mouth and jawline. Trowa guessed that he was Heero . "Hi," Trowa said when the woman arched an eyebrow at him. "Hi," she growled in response. "My office hours ended twenty minutes ago, and I don't know who you are. Oh, fuck. Please tell me you aren't that post-doc Noin is giving me? This is not how I wanted us to meet." She hastily rubbed her hands over her shirt and then held one out. "Hilde Schbeiker," she said, smiling winningly. Trowa wondered if either she or Heero knew the state of their lipstick-decorated faces. "No, I'm not your new post-doc. I'm from the history department. I'm actually looking for lab 007? I'm supposed to observe Dr. Maxwell's class." Heero snorted. "007? That's really the room number he gave you?" Trowa nodded and, feeling foolish for not thinking to do it before, he pulled up the email from Maxwell and checked it again. Maybe it had been a 2 instead of a 7? But it wasn't. He turned the phone to show Hilde and Heero. They both rolled their eyes. "Fucking nerd," Hilde sighed. "C'mon. The room actually doesn't have a number - which is why he calls it 007. Well, that's what he's calling it this week. What was it last month, Heero?" "The batcave," the other man growled. "And last semester, he somehow talked Facilities into making a sign for it that said Fortress of Solitude." Trowa fell into step behind the two as they left Hilde's office and started walking down the hall. "Really?" Trowa had to laugh. His own encounters with Mike Howard, the head of Facilities, had indicated that the other man would be up for exactly that type of joke. "Yeah, but when the Dean brought the Board of Trustees on a tour over the winter break, they took it down. So now he's trying out new room names until he settles on one." Trowa really wished he wasn't going to be late now. Dr. Maxwell sounded like someone he might actually like. Hilde gestured towards a closed door at the end of the hall, bearing no room assignment at all. "There you go. You're a few minutes late, but..." Without any warning, Hilde opened the door to the lab. "Safety inspection!" she shouted. "Goggles and gloves!" "What the fuck, Hilde? We're doing Azo dyes! Don't just barge in shouting like that!" The voice tugged on Trowa's memory, and when he stepped up to Hilde's shoulder, his jaw dropped as he recognized the man standing at the front of the room. There were dozens of students and lab tables between them, and he was wearing huge, hideous safety glasses and his hair was pulled back, but the man was unmistakably Duo. Duo, the man that Trowa had brought home one night in January, days after Zechs had dumped him via email. Duo, the man that Trowa had spent nearly twelve hours fucking and talking to until they both fell asleep in a spent, exhausted tangle of limbs on the couch where the night had started. Duo, the man who had been very noticeably absent when Trowa woke up sometime the next afternoon, sore and confused and hurt . "Trowa?" Duo sounded just as shocked to see him as Trowa felt seeing Duo. " Trowa ?" Hilde echoed, her voice sounding delighted. "You're the Trowa? Oh my god, Heero, this is Trowa ." Duo's cheeks turned a bright red, and Trowa felt his own cheeks heat as the students turned en masse to stare at him. A few started to whisper amongst themselves, and Trowa wondered what the hell was going on. "What are you doing here?" Duo asked. "I'm supposed to observe your class." "What? No- no, you aren't. Dr. Barton is supposed to observe my class today." "I'm Dr. Barton. Trowa Barton. I'm guessing you're Dr. Maxwell?" "Oh my god . This is so good," Hilde muttered. Trowa glared down at her, but she looked completely unperturbed. "Wait until we tell Relena. She's going to die ." Duo looked mortified and furious in equal measure. And as much as Trowa felt a cruel delight in seeing the other man off-balance and upset, he was here to do a job. He cleared his throat. "Thank you for showing me the lab, Dr. Schbeiker. I don't want to further derail Dr. Maxwell's class. I'm just going to take a seat in the back now. Have a good weekend." And with that, he stepped past her and closed the door shut in her face. Duo's shoulders slumped in relief. "Thanks," he said. "Take a seat wherever you want. Ed, can you give Dr. Barton a copy of the handouts for today's lab?" Trowa sat down at an empty lab table off to the side, where he had a good view of both Duo and the students. He took out the folder with the observation form, and accepted the packet of handouts that a gangly boy with shockingly bright red hair gave him. "Right." Duo drew in a deep breath and picked up a strip of fabric in one hand. "Like I was saying. This is our test strip. It's woven into different textile segments, and each segment is going to react differently to the dye strains. So, safety protocols for this lab - anyone?" Trowa listened while the students offered up suggestions, which Duo amended to include more safety precautions than ‘don't drink the dye' before he gave instructions for how to proceed. It was interesting, watching the students dip their fabric test strips, watching Duo work his way among them, offering praise or asking questions or gently guiding students back on track. After half an hour, Trowa had already filled out most of his observation form, giving Duo well-earned and excellent marks and comments in each of the categories. And then Duo finished his loop with the students and walked over to Trowa's table. "Uh, did you want to join in the lab? I set up supplies in case you did. But I..." Duo seemed incredibly nervous to be in Trowa's presence again, and Trowa couldn't help but wonder why he had just snuck out that day. What had Trowa done wrong? Had the whole night and morning been so awful that he couldn't even stick around long enough to tell Trowa his last name ? "Sure," Trowa decided. "Why not?" Duo nodded and walked away. He came back a moment later pushing a cart full of supplies. "Gloves and goggles." He handed Trowa those first. "And your mask while you mix the dye solution. You can take it off after, if you want. Or keep it on. The real danger is inhaling the particulates - but really, it would just irritate your sinuses. Nothing carcinogenic or anything. Well. I mean, if you drink the solution, it probably wouldn't-" "I did listen to you give the safety protocols earlier," Trowa interrupted him. "Right. Of course. Um - I need to start them on the next step. But I'll be back in a few to help you if you-" "I think I can manage. I'll ask if I need help," Trowa assured him. Duo bit his lip, looked like he wanted to say something more, but then turned and walked back to the front of the room. Trowa listened while he explained the next part of the lab - dipping new fabric test strips into solutions of lye, chlorine bleach and vinegar. By the time Duo made his way back over to Trowa, he had finished dyeing the test strips and felt fairly confident he had correctly identified all of the textiles. Duo looked over his work and grinned. "Nicely done - although, take a look at this one again. Describe the color to me?" "Indigo?" Trowa said, referencing the chart in one of Duo's handouts. "Close, yeah, it's got some indigo there, but do you think it might be Pthalo Green instead?" It clearly was, if Duo was guiding him in that direction, which meant that Trowa had mixed up two of the textiles. He sighed and rewrote the correct answers. Duo grinned at him. "Good. Seriously - better than some of my grad students could do." Trowa snorted in disagreement. "You want to do the next part? It's a little tricky - and there's the chance of chemical burns." Since none of Duo's students seemed to have suffered, and were all now working on answering questions after completing the portion of the lab involving the lye, chlorine and vinegar, Trowa shrugged. "Sure." Duo started to set up the solutions for him, and Trowa couldn't help but ask the question that had been bugging him for months now. "Why did you leave without saying goodbye?" Duo fumbled the beaker of lye in his hand, swearing as it hit the edge of the table and then spilled onto his gloved hand and wrist. "Shit," he muttered. Trowa, who had listened to Duo go over the safety protocols, and who had seen Fight Club as a teenager, stared at Duo with wide eyes. The other man sucked in a deep breath, turned on his heel, and briskly crossed the room to the sink and turned on the water. Trowa hurried after him. "What can I do? How can I help?" "I- I'm fine," Duo said between gritted teeth. "That was lye. This is a chemical burn. How do we get it off? Do we need some kind of base or-" "Trowa. Calm down. I know how to treat it. I just need to flush it with cool water. After I get this damn glove off." He watched as Duo gingerly removed the glove and then cursed again. "And my shirt," he muttered with a grimace. That Trowa could at least help with. He reached for the buttons of the black dress shirt after watching Duo try to get one loose. By the time Trowa had unbuttoned the entire shirt and started to pull it away from Duo's shoulders, his students had realized something was going on. "Dr. Maxwell - do you need help?" It was Ed, and Trowa assumed the boy was Duo's TA. "Nah, I'm all good. Just showing Dr. Barton how to treat a chemical burn. Who remembers how to treat a chemical burn?" "You're turning this into a teaching moment ?" Trowa asked in dismay as he and Duo finally managed to free Duo's arm from the shirt. Leaving him bare-chested as he thrust his left arm under the stream of water. "Mary?" Duo pointed at a girl raising her hand. "Flush the burn with cool water for ten minutes," she said. "Good, good," Duo nodded in agreement. "Fifteen would be better," another student spoke up. "Okay - we'll do fifteen," Duo chuckled. "Ed, why don't you time me. What happens next?" "Depends on how bad the burn is," a dark-skinned girl said. "How much area was exposed?" "Not too much," Duo said, "Just the area around the wrist - a bit above and a bit below." "Probably just flush it and put on a sterile bandage," the girl said. "He doesn't need to go to the hospital?" Trowa jumped in. "It's lye. All over his wrist. That's not going to eat through his skin or-?" "No, Dr. Barton, it's not going to eat through my skin," Duo had a forced smile on his face. "Don't freak them out," he added in an undertone. "I'm going to be fine." "If he goes into shock, we can call 911," the girl said. "Dr. Maxwell, do you feel faint? You look kind of pale. How is your breathing?" "What should his breathing be like?" Trowa asked. The girl shrugged. "I dunno. Normal?" He glared at her, but then looked back at Duo. He did look a little pale, but he also seemed to be breathing normally. And he was glaring at Trowa. "I said I'm going to be fine ," he growled. "Seriously. Just trust me." Trowa arched an eyebrow at that, and Duo sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fine. Whatever. If I pass out, you can be the one to call 911. Happy?" "No." They glared at each other, but there wasn't all that much to say after that, and they fell silent as they waited for Ed to signal an end to the fifteen minutes of Duo flushing the wound. When he finally turned the water off, Duo shivered. "Are you in shock?" Trowa asked immediately, alarmed. Duo rolled his eyes. "No. I'm fucking cold ." "Oh. Is that normal - or could that be shock?" "It's the reaction my body has to being half-naked in a cold room while I run cold water over my arm for fifteen minutes." That made sense, and Trowa was starting to feel a little ridiculous. He stepped aside and let Duo direct Ed on how to apply the bandage to his wrist. "Okay. Class, why don't we call an early end to things? I don't think any of us want the Dean to come through and find me teaching class without a shirt on. Ed, can you help everyone clear away their supplies?" "Of course, Dr. Maxwell." Duo shivered again, and Trowa pulled off his cardigan, feeling like an asshole for not thinking to do that earlier. He held it out to Duo, who stared at it blankly. "You're cold," Trowa reminded him. "Yeah," Duo agreed, and let Trowa help him into it. It was another twenty minutes before the students finished cleaning up their lab tables, and another ten before they had left. Alone, Trowa and Duo stared at each other in awkward silence. "So..." Duo said with a tired, wan smirk. "You going to give me bonus points on the observation form for the improv medical lesson?" "No," Trowa said immediately. Duo looked momentarily crestfallen, but then his lips quirked up again. "What if I take you out to dinner?" Trowa arched an eyebrow at him. "Dinner?" "Sure," Duo shrugged. "You've got to eat - right? And, you know, there's still the chance of me going into shock. I should probably have someone keep an eye on me for another hour or two. Just in case." Trowa considered the offer. He was tempted to just say no and walk away from Duo - much as the other man had walked away from him three months ago. Except Trowa wasn't going to sneak out. He was- "Why didn't you say goodbye?" he repeated his earlier question. Duo winced and sucked in a breath before slowly releasing it. "Because I didn't want to," he said. Trowa stared. Well. Okay, then. He turned to leave, deciding to write the cardigan off as an expense for his own naivete, but Duo reached out for him, uninjured hand finding Trowa's. "I didn't mean it like that," Duo said in a rush. "I meant- I meant that I didn't want to say goodbye to you. I didn't- I mean, what did you want? To wake up with me still clinging to you like some- You wanted the morning breath and the awkward ‘well, this was fun, have a great life'? I didn't want that. I- I mean, Trowa, we had a fucking amazing night together. Hell, the sex was mind-blowing, but all the rest - the two am mac and cheese, the talking, the really, really questionable taste in glow-in-the-dark condoms-" "I told you those were a gift. And you didn't have all that many complaints once I was-" "I didn't want to be the rebound fuck, Trowa." He realized, belatedly, that they were still holding hands. "What did you want to be?" Duo sighed and gave him a look. "Doesn't really matter now, does it? I fucked it up because I was afraid of fucking it up. Which is what I always do and-" Trowa tugged on their joined hands, bringing Duo close. The slightly shorter man looked up at him with wide, confused eyes. "I didn't want to say goodbye to you either," he admitted. He ran his free thumb over Duo's jaw, tracing it back to his ear and then cupping the side of his face. Duo leaned into the caress. "Duo-" "Dinner," Duo interrupted him. "Have dinner with me? Let's try this again?" "Yeah," Trowa agreed, and then he kissed him. Dinner was soon entirely forgotten. -o-
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