"Defying Gravity"

A Romance in Three Parts

Written By: Kaeru Shisho

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.

Rating: NC 17

Warnings: AU, yaoi, some language

Pairings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3

Summary: A multi part story of romance starting with a turning point vacation, developing throughout a dangerous UC mission, and moving ahead through the unexpected challenges of a summer vacation.

"Part Two: It's Back to Work"

It was a thousand mile hop, skip, and a jump from my new house with my buds to the rental house where I'd work and live for the next few months as a slut undercover. My high class pimp was Milliardo Peacecrap, Mill to me, codename Wind. The whole mission took on an extra-sour twist when he stopped outside the airport to "fix me up."

No, I'd not had a pedicure as of late, I assured him. Although, I think the way I put it was, "Are you out of your mind? They're my feet!"

The salon did my toenails (I think the lady was too whacked to finish the job after cleaning them because they switched technicians on me halfway through), my fingernails (whoa... that black wasn't permanent?), and then someone was asinine enough (or greedy enough to be bought off by Mill) to think they could tackle my hair without a fight.

"How long have you been growing it?" one girl asked with a squeak and a gasp.

"Not long at all," I said. "But it's been getting longer without my help."

She laughed, which just encouraged me to turn on the charm, either that or it was Mill's perturbed expression that did it for me.

"Hey Mill? Can I get my hair highlighted?"

"Why would you wish to do that?" he asked.

"Because I feel some strands were more important than others," I said with a grin. Mill just gave me a straight-faced stare, but the girls giggled. What an audience!

When the bottles and foil came out onto the table, I realized that the girls were serious. One draped a plastic sheet over me to catch the blood, I guessed, and adjusted my chair up, back, and over a large basin sink.

"You cut my throat and you'll have that guy to answer to," I gestured vaguely in the direction I'd last seen Mill. "And he's gotta face a really angry bunch of -"

The rest of my brilliant conversation was drowned out my roar of water from the faucet behind my ears. Oh, well. A hose with a spray head snaked near my ear moments before a gentle rain of warm water drenched my head.

"Oh, honey," cooed the one beautician with her hands in my hair scrubbing out the cooties. "I just love your long hair. Guys with long hair are so cool."

Even though I think she was combing her eyes over Mill's hair, she had her hands embedded in mine. She had nothing over Heero, whose fingers like talons of steel could massage like crazy. I was polite to her, though, and seeing the need to entertain her in this rather intimate setting, I chattered off the top of my head, so to speak.

"Thanks. You know that's nice to hear, really. People associate long hair with drug use. I wish people associated long hair with something other than drug use, like an extreme longing for cake. And then strangers would see a long haired guy and say, 'That guy eats cake!' 'He is on bundt cake!' mothers would say to their daughters. 'Don't bring that cake-eater over here anymore. He smells like butter cream, and did you see how excited he got when he found out your birthday was fast approaching?'"

I was killing them with my humor, so the staff changed and I got the zombies. Mill told me to cut the jokes so we could "get this over with." How was I to know that I was supposed to play sophisticated cool with this outfit?

I told him, "Making your friends laugh is a way of being in control, and it distracts from being made fun of yourself."

The fact that I'd first said that to Hilde after being holed up in a safe house with a bunch of very ill-tempered, trigger-happy pilots during the war didn't make it any less true. I was no fool. Mill would have to learn that on his own.

It was fun sitting in a comfy chair having my hair washed upside down. My scalp tingled, my fingers tingled, and even my clean little toes tingled. I told the zombie girl how I liked her hands in my hair, and she called over an undead helper to keep the drain clear so the sink didn't overflow.

Maybe it was the blood collecting in my head, but my situation made me think of this commercial where the girl was there washing her hair under a waterfall. I mean, that's crazy. All that water pounding on your head would knock you on your ass. And there I was sitting on my ass. It was hysterical.

Well, you know you can't please all the people all the time, and that day all of those people were with me. Mill told me to sit still and I tried. He said I would ruin his reputation at the salon if I didn't sober up. That struck me funny, too.

"This is where you get your hair done?" I asked him.

He snorted a "yes," which explained all the ogling women circling him like Harpies or vultures or flies over dead meat.

"And you brought Quatre and Trowa here, too?"

Another "yes" in grunt language, one that I had become fluent in, including Chinese and Japanese accents.

"So, we'll all have equal shine and bounce!" I said in a rumbling, masculine squeal of laughter.

Hey, it was funny at the time. I think the girl globbing hair conditioner on my hair had been sniffing too much of that perm solution, because she was trying to engage me in conversation as a counter inducement my slipping to the floor and rolling around.

"I notice you are wearing a cross. I was wondering why, like, if you're religious or anything," she asked as she dunked me under again for the rinse cycle.

I spit the cross out of my mouth, where it had been dangling tantalizingly like a candy. "It reminds me of where I was. I wear a necklace now because I like to know when I'm upside down."

She smiled, but that was about it. I don't think she liked me all that much, because the next thing I knew she ripped apart strands of hair, applying blobs of hair dye, and used tin foil to make me look like an absolute idiot. This was the streaking process and it was smelly, boring, painful, and not the least bit funny.

I must have floated into a grin-and-bear-it state of anesthetized sedation. Time passed without my remembering what had passed until a shrill voice with attached pink-plastic fingernails two inches long began rubbing mouse and gel and crap into my hair, talking about scrunching in curls and shit. Three ladies with blow driers fluffed and crimped and messed with my hair—simultaneously! I mean, had it been Heero, well, of course if it had been Heero doing that I'da had to have committed him 'cause he'da been crazier than a loon.

So I get a look-see at myself in this mirror. My hair's pretty straight ordinarily, but, man, with a light trim and all highlighted and dry...ringlets...! I broke down into a laughing fit.

"Gods, I look like a real rich-ass, boy toy!"

That outburst won me the silent treatment from my partner until we reached the airport, and then his attention was in the negative sphere of the universe. He had to be as embarrassed as shit to be seen with me. I was embarrassed as shit being with me looking like I did!

We were at the airport waiting to pass security. I'd told him repeatedly that I had done this before on commercial flights and that I knew better than to pack my gun or knife or nail clipper. I put my bag in the x-ray machine and the machine choked on it. Bells and whistles sounded.

Mill's look asked, "You didn't pack guns or knives, did you?"

I answered similarly with a roll of my eyes, "Give me some credit."

To which he ended the eye contact with a heavy, heavy sigh. I found out that my bag, Heero's actually, had cancer. It only had six more minutes to hold stuff. The zipper broke, the handle fell off. I had to sit there with my shoes on my lap, holding all my worldly possessions, it seemed, while Mill shimmered off to buy me a new travel bag. He had plenty to say to me then, although, I gotta admit I wasn't listening too carefully.

I had other things on my mind, and the problem was when I had things on my mind I liked to talk about them. While we stood around waiting for our plane to get in, I figured it was a great time to check out the reading material at the news stand. Mill agreed and accompanied me to a small shop. I was nearly to page twenty of this new thriller, and whispering to Mill what I guessed would happen next, when the clerk rudely interrupted me.

"This is not a library!"

"OKAY! I WILL TALK LOUDER THEN!" I shouted, annoyed at his rude interruption.

Mill bought the book and dragged me over to where everyone on our flight was still waiting to board our tardy plane. I read the last two pages of the book, discovered that I was right about the plot and tossed it aside.

"Hey, wouldn't it be cool if the earth's crust was made out of—" I scoured my brain for the right material, and couldn't find it, but then a kid walked by with just the thing, a box of animal crackers, so I said, "Animal crackers? Then it would disappear just like the ozone layer, but for completely different reasons."

"Duo, can't you just be quiet for a few more minutes until we get on the plane?" Mill asked as if it was a monumental task to speak to me.

Like being on the plane would make some kind of difference.

"Yo, Mill! Get a look over there. Think that guy's a spy? Man, I've always wanted to have a suitcase handcuffed to my wrist."

"I could arrange for handcuffs," he muttered.

"That wasn't a full joke there! It was just filler," I whined. "And I don't do kinky sex, either!"

He did have handcuffs, non-metal, plastic ones, real hard ones and threatened to cuff me in the plane's lavatory if I spoke AT ALL on the flight. Well, that was no problemo for me. I sleep on planes. And I did. The whole way to New Germany, I was quiet as a mouse—a dead one, because live ones make lots of noise shuffling around; I know because I've had to sleep with them. The quiet interlude put Mill in a good mood.

While Mill checked in at the car rental service, I rented a car. I didn't really need one; I just wanted to make one less available. I wanted one businessman taking the bus with no car, like me. Mill "I haven't got time for this ridiculousness" Peas-crap ripped up my contract and told the guy at the counter I was an idiot savant.

"Hell, I ain't nobody's servant!" I shouted. "Not even yours!"

That got me a laugh from the crowd, but not from Mill. He shoved me all the way to his car, and, man, what a car! For awhile, we just sat in this beautiful, sleek, white Jag. He wouldn't let me touch ANYTHING.

"I want to ride in a cold air balloon," I said.

His glazed expression said it all, almost. He added for clarity, "Why?"

"Might as well. This car's not going anywhere either."

He drew his breath and held it. He knew that control-your-temper counting trick, too. "I am checking the GPS before heading out. I haven't been in this area for many years."

"Cool. That's all I needed to know. I mean, I can read minds, but I'm illiterate."

"...fooled me..." He muttered something like that but since it wasn't very nice I didn't make him repeat it.

We drove for what seemed like two hours before he broke the tense silence. "It is dinner time here. We should get our metabolisms set to local time. I'm stopping at a restaurant. You have eaten in restaurants before?"

I knew he was being facetious, so didn't react. I looked out the window taking in the sights. The guy had to have a sense of humor. Everyone does, eventually. Maybe this was all he had. How sad. That cheap shot of sarcasm was the best he could do. It had taken him a day with moi to dredge it up. Give him a week with me and we'd be drinking buddies. In a couple months, who knows? Choosing wallpaper together? That got me to chuckling. I kept it down, though, since he was concentrating on parking the car in front of the restaurant, Le Monde.

The place was palatial in a Tuscan theme. It said so on the menu, which was a tome, a masterpiece of calligraphy and foreign gibberish requiring a specialist for translation.

"So what's this?" I asked Mill, pointing to an item on the menu.

"Fettuccini Alfredo is macaroni and cheese for adults," he said with a smile.

I gave him a crooked smile to show I appreciated his joke, and then offered up one of my own keen observations. "Thanks, Mill, although I was curious about the sauce ingredients. I know German and some Japanese, but French stumps me...and my Italian's not so hot. Frites de Poisson ... sauce au Vermouth et beurre. That's not really 'frightful poison' is it?"

"No, it's fancy fish sticks." He smiled and shook his head. "This is a French restaurant, mostly, although they cater to other regions as well. I can't bear the heavy local food. Where did you learn German and Japanese on L2?"

"Man, I'd like to see a fish-stick stick it to a bucket of fish. It would be so literal!" I chuckled and thought how to answer his other question. "Sister Helen at the orphanage taught us German because lots of folks around there spoke it. There were both large Japanese and German communities that immigrated there when it was first built. Japanese - minus the polite parts- was spoken on the streets, rough version, ya know?"

I ordered a chicken sandwich, in German, but I don't think the waitress understood me.

She asked, "How would you like your eggs?"

I thought I would answer her anyway and said, "Incubated! And then raised, plucked, beheaded, cut up, put onto a grill, and then put onto a bun. Damn! I don't have that much time! Scrambled on toast!"

Mill took pity on me or her and ordered me a really good meal of meatloafy-like meat and garlicky, cheesy, mashed potatoes and lots of tiny, tiny peas, which are nice when you want lots of little things to chase on your plate. We scarfed down bread and butter while we waited; at least, I wanted to.

"Don't fill up on that. A whole meal is coming," he said.

I sipped water and waited. The candle burned lower. I crammed more bread into my mouth when I didn't think he was looking. More water, damn, this time a face full of ice cubes!

Finally the food arrived. Peas to play with! I hadn't thought of serving these at home.

"Duo, pass the salt," he said.

Annoyed with my pea-chasing I snapped, "Screw you! Sit closer to the salt."

Mill reached over my plate and grabbed the salt with a really indignant sniff. The man could get his own crap, but I swear he loved ordering me around. Ordering in general pleased him. He ordered beer for both of us and things mellowed immensely after that and we had a nice dinner.

When we got into the car again, all that laid-back, well-stuffed tranquility was gone and we were back to tense, serious, and short-tempered. It was cold, too, and I hated the cold, so I asked him to turn on the heater.

"It's an L2 thing, ya know? Bad thermostats. It was too cold or too hot, but the cold killed us on the streets."

He didn't square that with the present situation, though. "Put on a jacket. You brought one, didn't you?"

"I gotta vest. If I had no arms, it would be a jacket." I was tired of being picked on. I stretched over the seat and retrieved my sport jacket. "What time is it anyway?" I asked.

"Look at your watch. I'm driving."

"I don't wear a watch, because I want my arms to weigh the same. And don't ask because I don't own a cell phone or a pager either. I just hang around everyone I know, all the time."

Okay, I was being a smartass. I was wearing my watch, but it was hard to get at in my pocket, and I did have my cell phone, although at the moment it was resting on the floor of the car where it had fallen out of my jacket pocket, but I did have it. I was just trying to get Mill's goat. I did, apparently.

Mill said to me, "You know what I like? Quiet. Give me thirteen minutes of quiet, please."

I was like, "Dude, you have to give me time to guess! If you're going to quiz me, you have to insert a pause. You know? Like you ask me, 'You know what I like?' And wait for me to guess. Then I say, 'The number thirteen?' Some people think thirteen is an unlucky number, though. I think, if thirteen is unlucky, then twelve and fourteen are guilty by association."

He grunted in a very Heero Yuy-like way and then nothing more was said to break the uncomfortable hush until we arrived at our new digs. I gotta say, the silent treatment just pissed me off. I didn't want him near me. I wanted my room, shower, and bed, in that order.

Mill got out of his car, stepping closer to me as if he wanted to apologize for being an arrogant ass. I immediately stepped back, getting my new duffle out of the back seat of his shiny, white Jaguar. I walked around to the trunk, grabbed my bag full of bathroom stuff and shut the back. Tomorrow, I'd get the rest of the shit out. Tonight, I wanted that shower and a nice comfortable bed. I turned around and Mill was gone, the door to the inside of the house standing wide open. I made my way inside and closed the door behind me. Mill reappeared and nodded his head towards the hallway.

"This way, Duo. I'll show you what we've got."

I followed him down a hall and into the bedroom, where he opened a closet and waved a pearly, white, manicured hand at the obviously empty interior.

"There's plenty of room for your stuff with mine and the same goes for the bathroom. You can go ahead and get a shower if you want; I'll lock up."

"Where's the other bedrooms?"

"They were offices. This is the only bedroom besides the guest room, and it doesn't have a bed, yet. Its delivery's been held up. Didn't you read the file?"

I shook my head. "I was going to read it on the way over. Didn't mean to fall asleep on ya. Anyway, I'm not sleeping in the same bed with you."

As much as I wanted the bed, I was taking the couch.

"Who got us this place anyway? I mean, you say it's a two office, two bedroom house, but I think it's up to me to decide how many bedrooms there are. Lookee here. This bedroom has an oven in it. This bedroom will have a lot of people sitting around watching TV, when they arrive and when we get a TV and a couch to sit on. This bedroom is over in that other guy's house."

I ranted all the way to the "guest" bedroom, which, as Mill had pointed out, was entirely void of comfort.

"There is no couch yet and the futons for the offices are due to be delivered tomorrow, too. This house was only secured a couple days ago." Mill sighed. "I'll take the floor."

"No, I said I would. It's no big deal for me, seeing as how I'm barely a step above street trash. I don't sleep much anyway. It's fine. Where's the other bathroom and I'll use it, too."

"Duo, I hate to break the news to you but we're not supposed to look like roommates; we're supposed to be living together." Mill got up from the bed.

"I've already met up with one of Gunter's associates and they already know about you. Don't blow this because you have a few hang ups on social issues."

I looked at him and in that moment wanted to yank him up by the collar and punch him, but I also wanted to touch him and that scared me. "I don't have any hang ups," I mumbled. "Can't we fight?"

"I guess, but—" he began.

"Then consider it a lover's quarrel. I'll see you in the morning."

I grabbed both of my bags and headed out of the room in search of the other bathroom. I found it and was pissed because there were no towels and I wasn't about to go ask for one. I made my way to the living room and was pissed again, because, just as Mill had said, there was no couch. In fact, there was no furniture at all. I found what Mill had deemed the guest bedroom and tossed my bags down on the floor. I kicked off my boots and lay on the floor, using one of the bags as a lumpy-as-hell pillow. Now, I was pissed because I had looked forward to a bed and the only bed in the house had Mill in it, more than likely half-naked. I pictured Heero in his bed, our bed. I swallowed hard at the thought and closed my eyes even tighter, begging for a sleep that rarely came, to let me escape this new hell.

I hate dreaming. To my thinking, when you sleep, you wanna sleep. Dreaming is work, you know what I mean? There I am in a comfortable bed, the next thing you know I have to build a spare fuel injector for my smoking Gundam with my ex-landlord, but I gotta get to the office in time for that meeting I didn't get around to prepare for, and, damn it all, I can't even remember where the place is and I'm late, late, late! I want a dream of me watching myself sleep.

I must have slept some, because when I opened my eyes they hurt in a room flooded with light. I grabbed my bag full of necessities, and as I managed to stand, the project file slid to the floor. I hadn't looked at it at all, which was odd. I usually had every schematic, name and face inside memorized down to the last detail. Not this time.

I thumbed through the pages, finding a short dossier on my new partner and boss. So the ex-OZ Gundam fighter and prince of the Sanc kingdom had a degree from some fancy-ass university in psychology of all things. Great. I was living with a shrink. My partner was a shrink. I hate shrinks. Shit.

I left the file where it was and made my way to the guest bathroom. I took off my shirt and tossed it down on the counter, still wanting that shower I'd deprived myself of the night before. After brushing my teeth, I shaved and was almost finished when I felt a hand slide down the middle of my bare back. It sent chills across my skin and awakened another part of me that I wished had stayed dead. I moved away but the hand followed.

"What do you want Mill?"

"I'm just looking."

He tugged on the edge of my sweatpants and I shoved his hand away, saying, "Well, stop."

I sighed and watched him leave. I had nothing to do but follow him where he sat in the front doorway. He scooted over and I sat down on the front step.

"Did you get a file on me?" I asked.

"A very thin one." He shifted beside me. "But I assume you only ask because you got one on me."

I nodded, not really knowing what to say. Sun, real sun not artificially generated light, felt warm and good on my arms and face. I just wanted to stay like that and soak it up forever. I looked out at the other houses on the street and then at the one directly in front of us, the house that we were supposed to be watching. It was average and I found it hard to believe a guy in the boy trade wasn't living out in the middle of nowhere. But then again, I couldn't believe that a guy with as much money as our "man of interest", Alric Gunter, was supposed to have would live here under any circumstances. This house, our house, was pretty ordinary, too.

I knew that we had to make this believable, but I was unsure of how to do that. To look like the unequal-lovers-but-not-quite-master-and-slave we were pretending to be, we'd have to touch, to communicate. I saw a curtain flicker at the house across the street and instantly my hesitancy faded. I wrapped my arm around Mill and pulled him close.

He must have seen the movement as well, because he turned and in the next second kissed me. It was like heaven and hell at the same time. His kiss was slow and teasing and he tasted of coffee and sweet pastries. He literally took my breath away.

I pulled away and rested my forehead against his, whispering, "This is not me, this is only a job."

He kissed me again, more insistently, slipping his hand up my chest. His kiss left my lips and he began to trail them along my jaw line. "You taste like toothpaste."

He kept kissing me, down my neck and across my throat; it was turning me on more than I wanted to admit. My heart pounded in my chest. I forced a smile and pulled away, caressing his cheek with the palm of my hand.

"Then stop kissing me."

He stood and held his hand out to me, and I accepted. He pulled me close embracing me with his arms. It was a hug that even I'd believe.

"I don't think I can. I've never had anyone as handsome as you in my life, much less this close to me."

I was thinking "Noin's gotta count for something," but then he slid his arm around my waist and led me into the yard, pointing at the shrubbery, as if showing me the landscaping.

"I know it's a job, but still, I guess now I see the benefits."

"You can't afford the premium," I snapped under my breath.

"Duo, you are an exasperating, uncultured, and angry man, I'll give you that one. But you are as handsome and intelligent as you are surly and foolish, and at this point I'm wishing for that ugly and stupid partner, at least then I could see it as just a job as well. I'd be able to pretend, too.

"Huh?"

"Do you know that you have the most beautiful hair and the deepest blue eyes I've ever seen? You are sexy and handsome personified and multiplied. But it isn't just that. There's something else in there, something I like, but something I don't know if I'll ever be able to reach. Deep down, under all these layers of walls and anger, you have a beautiful soul." He smiled and rested his chin on the top of my head. "Don't let it be just a job Duo, I feel a spark here."

"It's Scythe now to you, Wind, and yeah, a spark that's about to start a raging fire and get you gutted, charcoal to the core." I leaned over, kissed his cheek and spoke. "It's just a job to me and that's all it will ever be. Don't confuse unbelievable with real."

His body went cold against mine. He'd taken a chance and made his confession, while I merrily shot him down. But, deep down it wasn't true. Perhaps the reason that I refused the bed with him the night before was because I was scared, scared that something would actually happen. We'd be here for months "pretending," and he was a very good-looking, elegant, damned sexy man.

Knowing we that were still being watched, I was torn between wanting to walk away and actually wanting to kiss him again. I chose the latter; lacing my fingers through his and leading him back to the door. I pushed him back against the door frame and pressed my body to his, my gaze unable to leave his face. I could feel his erection pressing firmly against me. He leaned forward and kissed me. All I could think about was how good it felt to be held, to be touched, and to be wanted.

He hooked his fingers in the belt loops of my jeans, pulling me tighter against him. A moan escaped my throat, giving away that I was indeed turned on. I slipped one arm around his waist and reached for the door with my other hand. I struggled to push myself away from him. His hands slid up my chest and I shivered instead of pulling away. He broke the kiss and stared at me.

"You certainly run hot and cold. You hide most everything behind that anger of yours or that jester's mask, but," he said, slipping his hand down and cupping me, letting his fingers tease the outline of my erection that straining against the cloth of my jeans, "you can't hide everything."

I shoved him away. It pissed me off for one, that I'd lost so much control, and for the other, that I'd had no way to hide it.

"It doesn't mean anything Wind. Yeah, I admit you're hot as hell itself, but I don't want you."

"Have you ever let anyone in Scythe? (He finally got the name right.) Have you ever let down those walls long enough to see what's on the other side?"

"Just once."

I clenched my jaw tightly and stared at him as the phone rang in the house someplace, effectively ending the conversation. Mill sighed and walked away from me, heading for the bedroom. I could see it in the way he walked that he was just as angry as he was hurt. Hell, I hadn't even known the guy twenty-four hours and he was getting to me.

"Son of a bitch," I mumbled under my breath.

I had to do something so I went back out to the Jag and unloaded the trunk. Two crates of crap from Preventers, I assumed. I recognized the agency's packing material, actually. I hauled them in and set them down in the way someplace. I got a glass of water, but because there were no glasses, I drank from the tap.

Mill was done with the phone call by the time I readied myself for another face-off. The man was my partner, boss, and married, for gods 'sakes! He had no business coming on to me that way on an infiltration job. It was hard enough separating real from unreal for me, and I was working into my UC persona. I didn't need him coming unhinged on top of it. On second thought, maybe he was having the same problems coming "online" for the role. I decided to give him a little slack.

I crept up behind him as he hung up the receiver and embraced him from behind. One squeeze, then I let go. I saw his confusion over that action and sighed as I pulled him down in tender kiss, the last before I turned him away; in fact, I pushed him away hard. He weighed considerably more than me and was at least nine inches taller, despite my growth spurt.

"If we're going to be seen together, we needed at least some level of intimacy. Good enough for you?" I stepped back. "Hey, I'm not here to open up to you. I'm here to do a job and I'm going to do it well so we can get the fuck out of here."

Mill grabbed a linen sports jacket from the closet and slipped it on. "Fine," he said in a clipped, controlled voice, and walked out of the room. "We need to buy a few things. Join me in five minutes, if you want any say in the purchases."

I changed into a pair of faded jeans and a white tee shirt that said "Don't worry, I piss everyone off." It had been a gift from Quatre a couple years back and both of us had known it suited me at times, times like this. Mill hadn't even shared the details of his conversation with me. Some partner. Well, I wasn't going to ask. Not me. I did not beg. I yanked on my boots and put the rest of my stuff away in the closet and in the dresser drawers.

The door opened and Mill stood there staring at me. I wanted out of there right then like nobody's business.

"Am I holding you up or something?" I pushed past him, kicking one of the plastic crates from the Preventer's agency across the carpet.

"Duo! Those crates contain breakable equipment."

"Oh, forgive me." I turned, left the doorway and returned a few seconds later with another crate, dropping it to the floor and kicking it towards the other. I smiled a smile that never reached my eyes. "Bill the agency; I'm sure it'd be considered a work-related accident. Or should I explain to ole' Noin-babe how her hubby can't get his hands off my butt?"

Mill clenched his jaw so hard I felt my scalp tingle. He grabbed my hand, jerked me out of the room and out of the house, and did not let go until we were in the garage by that damned beautiful white sports car.

"If you ever bring her name up again, I'm warning you, you won't live through it."

"I'd rather fight you than to have my heart stepped all over, Mill."

"I thought you were the hot shot infiltration guy. Able to play any role."

"It's not easy for me to pretend in this, because the attraction is definitely there. It's hard for me to differentiate, too, but I can and I will 'cause I got a home to go back to, just like you do."

"We were paired up for this mission for a purpose," Mill maintained.

"Then the agency fucked up when they put us together, they should have known you wore your heart on your sleeve. To do this kinda work, ya gotta be ready to have it ripped out, lit on fire, and then stomped into the ground. Like I said, I'm here to do a job, not make a new life."

I watched his face fall even more.

"See, that's where you're wrong Duo. I'm not some sensitive guy that wears his heart on his sleeve. I'm every bit as mean and as tough as you are, but for some reason when I'm with you none of that matters. I've been nothing but honest with you since we've met, it'd be nice if you'd do the same."

"I haven't lied to you Mill."

"You're lying to yourself even as we stand here. If you can't even be honest with yourself, I know you can't be completely honest with me." He caressed my face gently with his free hand. "Open up to me Duo, I promise you won't regret it."

I jerked away from his touch letting go of his hand. "This job was held over my head. It was either this or a shrink. How the fuck was I to know it was all one in the same?"

I began walking out of the garage, fuming in anger that he could touch so many places in me with a few simple words. I hated him for that. I heard him walking slowly behind me and wondered if he was thinking about all that had taken place since yesterday, because they were certainly where my thoughts were at this point. I just wanted to go back to my house with Heero and the guys and let everything go. I wanted to crawl under a rock and until I died, which I now wished was soon.

"I don't want to be analyzed, Mill."

"All right. I won't pursue you either."

"Thanks, man. That'll make this go smoother." I smiled, feeling the anger roll away, banished for awhile. I could shed my skin like a snake. "There's one more thing you could do for me."

"To my best ability, anything."

"Ah, don't look so worried, Wind." I grinned wider as his eyes widened at my sudden use of his mission code name. "It's just that your kisses tasted like coffee and Danishes and I haven't had a thing to eat yet."

He chuckled with relief, I think. "I got up early to run and found a breakfast shop."

"Oh yeah? Well, I'd get up at the crack of dawn, too, if I'd been sleeping in comfort."

His hand gently steered me back to the garage. "The furniture delivery is scheduled for noon. That was the call. Let's get you breakfast and run our errands so we can meet the truck."

"Okay, boss-man!" I agreed. My cheerful persona had returned, if only temporarily, now that the air was cleared.

We got a call from the agency around four-thirty, saying that through a wiretap on Gunter's phone they had found him to be heading to a club. They wanted us to tag along and visit the club, watching who he spoke with while he was there. To say I was less than pleased about going to this club was an understatement. We had shopped for crap and unloaded crap and moved crap and made up beds and stowed away food and everything, but Mill just seemed to take it in stride. He let me rant, shoved me into the bathroom with my new shampoo, conditioner, and towels, and then lay down for a short nap.

I knew how to dress for clubbing. I knew how to dress as a prostitute. I had to re-learn from Mill how he wanted me to dress as a high-class commodity-lover ready to down drugs with abandon and eventually impress some rich dude to buy my soul, or something. We had our argument over clothing choices because my wardrobe was purchased for me, sight unseen by me. Some would have to be re-tailored for sure. Now, it was just a matter of getting my hair right.

I insisted that it remain braided, at least for the clubs. I didn't want strangers grabbing my long, loose locks in tight quarters. He relented and I wore his choice of gray, striped slacks with a white button-down shirt. I only buttoned the center button, exposing my neck and stomach when I moved. I looked like a rich college slut, which I guess was what I was supposed to resemble. For all my effort, all I got was a nod from Mill before we drove off in his slinky car. He finally spoke to me as he took my hand as we stood in line to enter the club.

"Just play the part, Scythe."

"I plan on it, Master Wind."

When we finally made it through the door, Mill slid his arm around my waist and I felt like I was burning everywhere he touched me. I must have flinched, because he drew his arm away.

"Since my touch disgusts you so much, I guess I'll just hold hands with you when people are paying attention."

"Oh, quit whining like a fucking baby," I said none too politely. I leaned over, pulling at his lapels to get him to bend, and whispered in his ear. "Look to the tables in the far right corner of the club. That looks like the man in the file-photo."

I was pleased at his change of expression. I'll bet he didn't think I actually read the mission file. Mill casually turned and grabbed my hand, leading me to the dance floor. He nodded at me.

"It's him. Let's draw his attention."

I could not dance for shit all tensed up like I was, but I also knew that Mill's idea was good. If we could draw Gunter's attention, perhaps we could get closer to him a little sooner. I wrapped my arms around Mill as a slower song began and let him take control. I basically just stood and swayed, letting my hands roam over his body as he ground against me to the beat of the music. It took every bit of control I had to keep the hard-on away.

I looked up in Gunter's direction after about an hour of dancing and he was staring at us. I smiled and let my eyes wander to the younger-looking boys at the table with him. At the same time, I wet my lips with my tongue as I stared at them, and swallowed the bile that had risen in my throat. The boys at the table looked no older than fifteen years old at most. Gunter himself was well into his forties. As I let my gaze wander back to Gunter, he winked and turned back to his table.

Mill leaned forward and nibbled to lobe of my ear. Unexpectedly, I gasped and my breath quickened. He laughed this husky, very seductive laugh and kissed down my neck.

"Don't pull away. I know you don't think he's still watching, but someone at that table is."

I shivered as his tongue licked across the hollow of my throat. "Stop." I whispered. "You don't have to go overboard."

"Of course we do; he's interested."

"Yeah well," I leaned in so close to his face, one slight move and a hop up would make us kiss. "I'm not."

We stayed in the club for another hour or so, kissing, touching, acting and playing the part. I'd never touched anyone in public in my entire life like I'd touched Mill. He was easy for me to touch. Sexy and handsome as hell with his smooth manners, aristocratic face, and fit body. If I had any lingering doubts about my sexual preferences, they were gone now. I guess not only Heero could excite me. That alone, scared the hell out of me.

Chapter 5

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