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"Recycled Valentine "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, male/male pairings, language Pairings: 1x2, 3x4 Summary: A Valentine's Day themed romance encompassing all the young men Thanks to Waterlily for all the editing and humor
to keep me going "Recycled Valentine " Chapter 2 He recalled the name on his appointment notes and matched it to the flesh and blood in front of him. Trowa Barton. His newest customer stood as Heero entered the tenth-floor lobby and held out a hand. Quatre had taught him how to cover up his shyness with good manners, a trick for which he was eternally grateful and he employed now. Heero shifted the bag to his other hand and met in a firm shake. "I'm Heero Yuy. You must be Trowa Barton? Glad we get to meet face to face." "Nice to meet you." The young man moved athletically, gracefully even. Firm handshake, and what a nice face to be facing! Gentle features, single visible eye, hazel-colored through a fall of caramel-colored bangs. Heero found him much more handsome in person. He remembered the etiquette his polished friend had drilled into him- he hoped, not a second too late. "Coffee? Tea?" "Nothing for me. Thanks, though." "This is my home," Heero said as he waved him into the sparsely decorated office and into a black leather chair with a view out the window. He was glad to find Trowa smiling at his tepid joke. "I spend way too much time at work, too." Trowa sank into the chair and stretched out his long legs. "Comes with success, I guess." "Yes." Trowa's eyes landed on the red bag. "Sweet tooth?" "I may have gone overboard with this." His attention drifted for a second as he looked for a good place to stow his candy, and then decided to leave in on the floor under his desk. The tote fell over, spilling slippery plastic bags of candy. He offered Trowa his choice of two bags. "Want some?" Nice smile. "Sure." Trowa's smile widened as he leaned over to tear open a bag of red and white hearts and palm one of each. Heero wore his success in sharply tailored, dark suits. This man wore textured greys and tans. Heero bet he wore leather on weekends; the chair clung to fit his lean lines perfectly. Want some? Had he actually said that? He felt the blood rise to heat his face. After running back over the conversation, he realized the subtle sexual subtext, totally unintentional on his part. But, the sexual presence of the other man was real and hypnotic. And it appeared that he had limited immunity. He wasn't a talker, though, Heero noted, which meant he would have to do most of it, not his forte. "When we last spoke, you asked about new products and where this company was headed." "That's right." "I had started you with a few gadgets, but we've expanded here in Sanc, and have a few new security devices that might interest you." "That's what I'm here for." Trowa Barton showed interest in everything and an understanding of the technology that encouraged Heero to dive right into the nuts and bolts of security instruments. It didn't take long before Heero discovered that this client knew far more than he about customer needs and implementation. "If I'm boring you, let me know," Heero said at one point, thinking the other man's eyes were glazing over. He felt comfortable thinking that he knew more than Trowa about designing the devices and the manufacturing, even though he might be weaker at social interfacing. "No, your designs are innovative. Can't imagine how you transition those schematics to machining instructions." Trowa's true green eyes, bright and curious, met his directly, radiating confidence and raw intellect. College education was fine, but someone who had the kind of hands-on experience this man had Heero admired. "Would you like a tour of the plant? It's walking distance." "Sure." Heero liked the other man intensely. They'd exchanged a few email communications, but in person, Trowa had real animal magnetism. He could put a man like that to good use, and he did try hard to keep his thoughts one hundred percent professional. But, it was hard getting past the attraction. He wanted to hire him on the spot and have him head the marketing department and have him near at hand. The thought of doing anything so rash, without the proper research and consideration, shocked him into thinking straight again. "Your company isn't based on L3?" Heero asked. "It seems most of what you do is in the colonies." "It was, but I'm in the process of moving to Earth and setting up operations. I didn't mind the travel, but I have a sister here. I like personal connections, and I was missing that." "Personal connections. Those can also be complicated." "Yeah, I know, which is probably why we're both single." Trowa's grin flashed. "Least I am. You still are, or has that changed for you? That's what you said, but it that's too personal of me, just forget I went there, okay?" Heero was smiling and blushing. Again. He couldn't believe he'd revealed his personal details over the phone that way. Was Trowa flirting with him? It had been awhile since he'd dated anyone. He felt rustier than his front gate. "Or maybe I read that on Facebook?" "Probably there," Heero said, relieved. For a moment. Why he hadn't checked Trowa's status? Read up on him as well as his company? That's why he had that account, or so Quatre had told him. And then his inborn paranoia set in. Why had he let Quatre put anything about him up on that public forum? "Well, I'm still single. And I am interested-" Yeah, he could imagine his hands caressing this man. Could he do a fling? Was he the fling sort? What in fucks-sake was he thinking?! "-in growing the business," he said in a rush. "Specifically, I'm interested in how you are using our products and would like to concentrate on that direction myself." There that sounded more professional. The handsome client looked around, eyes landing on the dramatic view. Sanc Palace gleamed in the distance. "This is a great location. It shouts success." "The company is thriving, but, honestly, I'm not all that cash-rich," Heero admitted. "A friend got me a deal on this location." "You can't put a value on friends like that." That was certain. Quatre Winner was priceless. "Your card doesn't have a Sanc address." Trowa sighed and frowned. "Not yet. I have them on order. I hated dishing out money for new ones, that's all, and I'm still spending a portion of my time commuting back to L3. I haven't even got a place in Sanc to live." He smiled wryly, "Got any friends with housing deals?" "I wish. I've been here a year. From L1. I'm renting a house in the neighboring town and commuting in." "Ri-ight. Another colony kid. That was on Facebook also." "I haven't updated that lately." Or ever! Or even logged in to look at what dear Quatre had created for him- insisted that it be created for him. Heero hadn't used it to make friends or advertise or sell himself. He had neglected to keep it up to date. Now he was feeling wary of doing so, opening the door wider into his private life, or lack thereof. "Not the social networker? Strange in your business." "I'm busy and my marketing manager is... currently an opening." And Heero hoped that would put an end to that line of inquiry. Trowa, astute man that he was, dropped the topic and shared a tale from his travels. Heero relaxed and told one of his own from his college days. In that way, they uncovered common colony experiences and revealed distinctly different lives. "So, that manufacturing plant tour still on the books? I could use some exercise." Trowa reminded him. How time flew when you were having fun. The tour required miles of walks and ended up giving them hearty appetites. This led to a dinner offer and a walk to restaurant row. They found a casual place to eat and effortlessly fell back into a comfortable, relaxed camaraderie. Heero enjoyed his company as they discuss a wide range of topics, but both men retained that invisible, yet impenetrable, professional distance. Or maybe the attraction he had felt was illusionary? Though, not likely. When Heero reached for his wallet to pay, he touched paper. The party invitations! Here was just the right opportunity to rid his person of another of the nasty things. Heero passed one to the other man. "Consider yourself part of the select few." Trowa's eyes, usually hidden and narrow, grew wide. "Sanc Palace?" His face paled. "This is something unexpected." "Quatre Winner is a friend of mine," Heero explained. "His party and the princess's collided and this was their compromise. Please come for the refreshments, if nothing else." It occurred to Heero, then, that his new business friend might take this as a date, and as nice as that might have been before they were tied together in work, now it would be an unwise move, definitely crossing a line they had so carefully maintained. Plus he still held out hope for meeting his recycler! God, don't forget him! "You can bring a date, of course." "Are you going?" "I haven't decided." "I will if you will. You can introduce me around. I wouldn't mind meeting the infamous Quatre Winner." "All right. I can make sure you do, and before the party. He's nothing like the media makes him out to be." His friend was far nicer. "He's not a rich, hot-as-hell genius?" Trowa's smile turned speculative. "Now you've gone and stirred up my curiosity." And that answered beyond any doubt the age-old question: is he gay or not? (o) Heero's work day ended when he saw off Trowa to his hotel. They had outlined a course of action and agreed to meet again later in the week. Driving home gave him time to reflect on his day. No question about it, Trowa Barton had been the best part. In many ways, he had been the most interesting and intriguing person he had spent time with in a long time. And hot. Heero stamped down on those feelings, hard. He wanted to pursue the trash collecting man first. And he was nothing if not determined. And well-practiced at self-denial. Hadn't he done well when he'd held off sexual attraction for his best friend after Quatre had made it clear they would remain "brothers"? Heero had been admiring the way the artificial sunlight sparkled in the blond hair, and how the warmth had brought pink to his skin. In hindsight, he had been about to make the biggest, and worst mistake of his 19 years of life. He had nearly kissed his roommate, his very best friend in the universe. "I'm not meeting my life-mate here in college," Quatre had announced one fine spring day. "I want to be settled and make a mature decision, don't you?" As if a cloud passed over, the light went out of his day. He felt his throat close up and a terrible pain clench at his chest. Heero believed this other boy was his life-mate already! "Heero? Are you all right?" He nodded and turned his face away. It was all he could manage for a few minutes. "Okay. Good. It must have been the light. It's not as golden as that on L4. I hope I can get used to it, but no matter what, I'm leaving here when I graduate." Heero interpreted this to mean that his friend was planning to leave and that he shouldn't fall for him. Heero decided he'd have to stay on L1. "Where would you go? Back home to L4?" Would he ever see his friend after that? He felt empty already. "I don't know, but I'm already thinking about Earth. The more I read about its history, the more I want to visit all those places." Earth! So L1 and now Earth, too, would be off the table for him. He didn't want to be there when his best friend found that life-mate- and it wasn't him. "What about you? Promise me you'll come to Earth someday, if only just to visit?! I couldn't bear being so far from the friend I've come to think of as my brother-not forever." Brother, not potential lover; that was clear enough. So, Quatre probably had been tactfully letting him down, but he'd been Heero's first love and it had hurt. Still did a little. He'd never been able to avoid promising the charming blonde everything, and then having to live up to his expectations, like showing up at his party. The crinkle of the envelopes in his pocket-gifts and invitations to distribute- became a reminder of more promises to keep. One more, he would give out one more of the invitations and that was it! He didn't even have to consider to whom; the recycling man's limber body instantly presented itself forefront and foremost in his mind, and a smirk twisted his face. A plan evolved. Heero could be cool and not a hopeless case Quatre needed to worry over. First, if he could bring himself to introduce himself to the recycling stranger, he'd have to keep it a secret from Quatre until he'd secured his agreement to attend the party. Heh. Next, he'd introduce his best friend to Trowa Barton. There would be a moment of triumph. Ha! He, Heero Yuy, saw him first and gets to introduce him to Quatre R. Winner! And then, the finale, to show up with ... whatever the recycle-pickup man's name is! Yes, it would serve the always-two-steps-ahead-Winner right for Heero to bring a complete stranger to the grandest show on Earth, as if he could pull fabulous men out of a hat! He liked the idea better and better. It suited him to a tee. The man himself, "What's-his-name?" was perfect Yuy eye candy- earthy, attractive, manly and all packaged in a plain brown, recyclable wrapper- begging to be unwrapped. By him. He missed his turn and had to go around the block. Damn, he hadn't been intimate in a long time. He felt he was long overdue. He cut sharply and slammed on the brakes in the driveway, stopping right on the mark. Fuck! If he was to meet this remarkable recycler, it would have to be done soon and planned carefully. Today had been recycling pick-up day. Next week it was yard trash and a different truck came. He'd never seen that driver; the mechanical arm on the truck did all the work. Although, it could be the same person, but it was unlikely. He couldn't take that chance. Heero would have to get the invitation to him the following week. After that, it would be too late. He couldn't count on getting it to him the week of the event and not insult the guy. Immediately on entering the house, he stowed the keys in the blue basket by the door, sorted his mail (one a bill, rest was trash), and started up his laptop on the kitchen table. "Good thing I looked." Checking the calendar, he noticed a holiday in the mix too. He had to be here the week after next and catch that man! He typed in two entries on the calendar, one as a reminder for the reminder, and a third memo for next week to make sure he checked the yard trash driver's face and definitively identified him as not the recycle man. He paged over to the next, and marked the EVENT of the SEASON, and then backtracked to the present and penciled in "Trowa" over the entire current week. Not that he would forget a single detail, but it was nice to have backup. That done, he took a shower, watered his air fern at the same time, and retired to an early bed and book time. He opened his tiny electronic notebook to jot down a couple things he wanted to mention to Trowa. Once he got to thinking, he decided to make a minor change to his plans and introduce Trowa to Q first, since he couldn't make any headway meeting the recycler. He would introduce him to Quatre over a lunch? He smiled thinking that if those two hit it off he would have done something to balance the score. He owed his best friend so much. Remembering the money, he ran up a list of people to "thank" for their services. The candy was still at the office, under the desk, where he forgot he ever bought the crap. "Enough of that." He put away his toys and opened his paperback, a western, a time when men rode horses to work, decided differences over whiskey and bare-handed fighting, and shot their enemies. Pure enjoyment. Peeking out over the top of the water trough, he aimed and shot. One man in the alleyway across from him fell as his bullet caught him in the chest. Several shots whizzed by his head, and he ducked behind the trough again to reload his guns. While he was shaking out the empty shells, he froze. Boots appeared in his vision. He lifted his gaze and found himself looking down the barrel of a pistol. He couldn't believe it. This guy had somehow snuck up on him... (o) Heero stared past the restaurant table at Trowa's long, long legs stretched to full length and sipped at his drink. Trowa swallowed ice water then said, "I get the feeling that you and I have got a good thing going here." Heero sucked in his breath and slowly met Trowa's eyes. "What do you mean?" "Whatever you want it to mean, but I was thinking 'security systems'." Heero swallowed what he'd expected to be plain iced tea, but was extremely sweet, and nearly choked on the ice cubes. He was pretty sure the man was flirting with him and nothing he could do would stop the warmth from climbing up his neck to his face. If he hadn't set his heart on meeting the recycling man, he might not have been so resistant. "I think we should really get on that design for a camera on a fully articulated arm. I can get you a beta test site. Talked to them last night and they are excited. Experienced and thorough." Trowa punctuated his words with a drawn out pronunciation symptomatic of L3 roots. Oh, God, he had to concentrate here. "A beta? That would be great. Terrific. I can send the paperwork to them... or you?" "Me. I'll serve as the intermediary between TechSolutions and any test center you agree to." Relief washed over him. Heero nodded curtly. "I appreciate that." "I'll drop by your office later." Trowa chuckled. "After lunch, if you're game?" "Yes, of course," Heero managed as apprehension started up again. He wanted Quatre to like this man, but he couldn't if he never got the opportunity to even meet him. Where was Quatre? What was taking him so long? "If we ever get to lunch," he muttered. "We could order some appetizers." Heero nodded. That had been a reasonable idea. "You order whatever you like. I'll eat it." Trowa flicked a smile and stood. "Wash my hands," he said and glided towards the men's room. Heero scanned the menu, keeping his eyes and part of his mind occupied; as a result, he missed his friend's arrival. Quatre walked in with another man in tow, the elegantly proper Chinese man, Chang Wufei. "Heero! I'm so sorry I'm late. I wanted to bring my new chief of security operations." Quatre plopped into a chair. Apparently, Wufei worked for Winner Corp now. Why he was not surprised at the outcome? Trowa returned to the table, and immediately Heero noted the tension in his shoulders. Trowa's easy-going manner had vanished. "Quatre Winner, this is a valued client of mine, Trowa Barton." "Oh!" Quatre jolted up from his chair and shook Trowa's outstretched hand. "Heero's said so many nice things about you. I'm so happy to see you in person; you're so tall. Heero, you didn't say he was tall." He stopped his thumb from stroking the back of the other man's hand and pressed his lips together to stop chattering. He was rattled, Heero thought, smiling. Good. He's got green eyes, too, Q, just the way you like them. His smile became a smirk. "He's taller than you." Quatre smiled, mute, so Heero finished up with the introductions. Quatre, who was so good at taking over social situations and smoothing over the awkward beginnings, seemed star-struck. "Winner has provided me a schedule adaptable to my thesis work," Wufei explained. "Very accommodating." Wufei smiled smugly, and Trowa studied his hands. "He usually is," Heero acknowledged. "Excuse me! I'll be right back. Little boys' room!" Quatre chirped as he left. Wufei took his time removing his outer coat and flagging down a waiter to hang both his and Quatre's coats. Trowa leaned into Heero's space, and jabbed a finger in Wufei's direction. "I thought you said Winner was single." Heero didn't recall mentioning it at all, but there was no reason to keep it a secret. "He is. Chang's just a friend and, apparently, his employee." "Okay. Just checking. No need to bite my head off." Trowa smiled and looked smug for an instant. "Is he always so nervous?" Wufei thought he was being spoken to and responded. "If you mean Quatre Winner, I've never seen him less polished." Heero shrugged. "You haven't known him long." He had more to say, like how Quatre could act just as foolish as anyone, but suddenly felt protective of his friend's secrets and foibles. Let them learn for themselves. The waitress took drink orders, reeling off the specials, and flounced away. Quatre returned flushed, bangs damp, and Heero suspected he must have splashed his face with cold water. Yes, his eyes sparkled brightly and no matter who was speaking, the pretty blues kept tracking back to Trowa. "Yes, I keep busy," Quatre said with a winsome smile, "but security and surveillance has always more than I can handle, which is why I hire a large staff." "Yeah?" The taller man brushed the bangs from his eyes, which were fixed on the eager blue eyes. All the better to ogle you with, Heero mused. "I set up a factory on L3 once," Trowa went on. "They had had a problem with property loss, and the owner had hired far too many people to try and take care of it. It was like every worker had a dark-suited agent with dark glasses hovering nearby, and still he was losing materials. So, I put up a couple cameras." He smiled. "Within a week he'd fired all the security guys. Turned out they'd been in league with someone in shipping." "Oh, that's impressive. What a valuable service you provide!" Quatre was practically in Trowa's lap he'd leaned over so far. Trowa, Heero thought, wouldn't have minded a bit if he had the blond tycoon in his arms so he could demonstrate his full-service contact. The animal magnetism was still there, but the direction of the pull had changed from him to his best friend, which was as it was supposed to be. Trowa told a funny story about another job on L3 and Quatre laughed so much he couldn't breathe. And Trowa offered to give him CPR and Quatre blushed beet red and giggled. With a sigh, Heero noted that Quatre had never been that way around him and let his attention drift until he heard his name mentioned. Quatre was speaking. "Heero used to make medical devices, like... wasn't there one that assisted with operations, like a tiny robotic cutting tool? But that was when you were working with one of those doctors... You don't do that anymore, do you?" "No, I sold off the medical products. That mostly funded my move here." "And I'm so glad you're here!" Quatre gushed. "This is so nice, isn't? I feel like we're all old friends already!" Heero was getting there, but wasn't so sure how anyone else felt. Eventually they ordered food and when it was served the conversation sailed smoothly from superficial work questions and impersonal comments to the shared interest of the party details. Shared by all but Heero. That last invitation was burning a hole in Heero's pocket. He had to acquaint himself with the man with the braid, the rainbow patch... and the tattoo... and the smile. He absolutely couldn't waste any more time. Finding out the man's identity topped it. Acquiring information was a business tangential to his; he should be able to determine more than the man's initials. How much nicer it would be if he could call out "Good morning" without it sounding like "Hey you!" He sat back, relaxed, knowing he'd done well introducing Trowa to his friend and sorted through his next steps in "Mission ID", until he felt eyes on him, and Trowa discretely cleared his throat. His line of sight included Quatre's merry face and Wufei's amused one. He didn't dare look to his right to see if Trowa was smirking. "What?" "His devices provide for satellite surveillance that can read a newspaper in hands of man on another colony, count hairs on a fly's back walking across the paper, identify the mites in the man's hair follicle-" Trowa began. "-and yet he can't track a simple conversation? That's him, my dearest, old friend." Quatre's laughter tinkled the china. With no little satisfaction, he concluded, that at some point during the meal Quatre and Trowa had become completely besotted with one another. He hoped the infatuation would last awhile and occupy both of them so they would be too busy to notice his pursuit of the recycler. "I'd asked if you had finished handing out the invitations, in particular, if you'd invited someone special yourself?" Heero didn't care for Coy Q, complete with batting eyelashes. "No, and it's none of your business." Before his friend could fall into a mope, Heero came up with a topic of conversation; one that, he hoped, would perk him up immediately. "So, what do you suggest we wear to this 'fete-to-end-all-fetes' of yours?" "Tuxedos, of course. Finding the proper color is an art. You don't stumble upon what looks best on you!" Quatre had plenty of ideas and a strong opinion as to what color would look best on his best friend. "On you, Heero, nothing brown or yellow. Definitely no gold tones. Blue is fine and so is grey. Red? Oh, maybe, but red would be perfect on Wufei." Next, Trowa came under the spot light. Being Quatre's current flame, complete with his own particular shiny glow of new infatuation, gave him no immunity at all. "Green is too obvious. Gold tones, browns, a touch of coral-" "Coral? Isn't that a rocklike animal habituating in tropical waters?" Heero asked, reasonably. "It's a color, Heero. One that would look hideous on you, but gorgeous on Trowa. It's close to salmon." "Isn't that a kind of fish?" Heero felt sure it was, but since his friend ignored him completely to focus totally on Trowa and his color chart, he chose to keep his silence and possibly escape further notice and scrutiny. As he might have guessed, nothing in his wardrobe could have withstood a Winner appraisal. The colors, such as they were, weren't bad, but nothing was fine enough. Above all, he didn't own a tuxedo, and that was that. He was going to need to go shopping. Oh, yes. A MAJOR shopping trip was in his future. Heero had this sinking feeling that Trowa and Wufei- not to mention his mystery man- would all benefit from Quatre's leadership in this area. Benefit, yes, but would they ever forgive him? Later that afternoon, Heero prepared for his meeting with Trowa, anticipating a barrage of personal inquiries into Quatre's past. He wouldn't expose any of his friend's secrets that was for certain and he dreaded having to dodge any issues at all. He didn't consider himself to be especially clever at elusive wordplay. His worries for all for naught. Trowa stuck to the business agenda like glue. It wasn't until the meeting ended and he was preparing to leave, that the taller man took his hand. He shook it and said with a smile, "Thanks, for everything, but especially trusting me with you most valued treasure, your best friend." Heero had misplaced trust before, but this time he believed he knew the core of the man, and Trowa Barton's nature felt solid and true. "My pleasure." (0) Time to go. Heero gripped his up his keys and stood glaring intensely out the window. He had been ready to go to the office for thirty minutes already, and now all he needed was for the trucks to show up. He watched for the sanitation truck to pull up, do its job, and then move away so the recycling one could park right behind, blocking his driveway. And then he would glide out his door and charm a smile out of the man and an enthusiastic "Yes, I'd love to come to the ball with you." Smooth and cool. Yeah. Any time. But, there arose a development. No trucks arrived. At all. Late. Late? Ten... fifteen minutes late? He was about to call and complain, then as a last resort, he opened his networking notebook. He popped to the garbage company's website, selected the schedule, and there it was: Holiday pickup schedule. He must have tossed the holiday reminder out with the trash. Holiday. No pick up. What fucking holiday was it? What long-dead, good-for-nothing piece of crap Sanc nobility was born on this day? Ah... Relena's father died on this day. Was it ten years already? Well. That was sobering. He was going to be late for work. So be it. What would a few minutes more mean? He was the boss! He called a number infrequently used. It rang and rang, and when he was certain she wouldn't answer, he heard her voice. "Hello? Is that really you, Heero?" "Hello, Relena." "Heero? Speak up. I can hardly hear you." Sigh. "Yes, it's me. I, ah-" "What is it? Are you all right?" She sounded worried. About him. "I'm fine. I, ah, wanted to say-" he began again, but to say what? He had deep feelings, but he often failed to express them satisfactorily, "-that I'm sorry." Silence. "About your dad." "Oh... oh! Yes, thank you for remembering. For most people it's just a day off from work." "Only for government workers and contracted employees. Not the rest of us." "Oh? Oh, of course. So, how are you, Heero? Are you still in business on the colony?" "Yes and no. My business is good, but I've moved the headquarters and manufacturing. To Sanc, actually." Silence. "Are you following me?" she asked, sounding concerned rather than as a joke, but then she added, confusing him, "You do still make monitoring equipment, don't you?" "Oh, yeah, I do. I understand now. Um, I've been very busy. Ah, Quatre's here, you know." "Yes, of course. He and I are..." she paused and Heero imagined that she was weighing whether or not to mention the party and whether or not she'd be required to invite him if she did. He decided to put her out of her misery, if true. "I know about the party. I'll be there, unless you'd rather I didn't-?" That could only be too good to be true, so it wasn't. "Oh, no, do come! That would be wonderful! I'll look forward to seeing you then, you and-? Who will you be bringing?" No one, if his luck continued to hold true to type. "Let me surprise you." After ending the call, he wondered if what he'd said had sounded too creepy, too stalker-like. He hoped not. God help him. Sitting in his office chair, his head cleared and he felt as if he was finally thinking straight. He checked in with the TechSolutions floor manager and his production manager, as was his usual pattern. All was well. Okay. He found himself back on his computer. According to the website for the Waste Management Company he had contracted for his home, the pickup was only delayed a day. Fine. He had only to wait another day and then proceed to learn his mystery man's identity. One day. Waiting wasn't his strong point on this day. Waiting was leading to stress. He seriously considered calling the Waste Management Company and trying to get the name, at least, of the man who collected his recycling materials. He was wondering if they'd tell him when his phone buzzed. He wasn't expecting a call from Trowa Barton. "Hey, Heero. Are you picking me up at the airport?" "Am I?" It wasn't scheduled. He didn't remember having agreed to that, but then stress led to mucking with his head and fucking with his concentration. "Guess not." He heard Trowa chuckling. "That's okay, actually. I was calling to say Quat called and he's in the area and well, you don't need to come out here, too, is all." Quat? What kind of a nickname was that? He wasn't a cat or any feline; he was more of a young, energetic... what was that dog? Border collie? What did that matter, anyway? His pickup wouldn't be until the next day, but the question was, would it be at the same time or later? Or earlier to accommodate having to do the unusual schedule as well as today's. Or ... were all the days shifted over one? In that case what happened to the Friday date? Would he have to work on Saturday to make up for missing today? What kind of sense did that make? Wasn't a holiday a day off-? "Heero? Are you still there or did we drop the connection?" Who? Oh, Trowa, right. "I'm here. I'm leaving right now." No problem except he'd promised to meet Trowa at the airport and forgotten! "No! Stop! You don't have to, that's my point. I have another ride, so... Stay cool. Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow for our meeting, as scheduled." Heero decided he could wait at his house for the recycler to come-all day if that's what it took. "Right. No airport then." "Right. Bye." "Bye." Heero suddenly decided to throw caution to the wind and call the driver's employer and see what he could learn. As it turned out, that wasn't much. His lack of luck was holding true. "I have a gift card for him and need his name and address. I want to put his name on it and don't want to leave money flapping in the breeze. Okay. How about just his first name? Initials? Uh, huh, thanks a million." D.M. Doug Mueller. Dashiell Mammitt. Dooly Mooly for all he knew. Dyna Mite. Yeah, that fit him. So why had Trowa Barton called him just to say he didn't need a ride from the airport? Quatre must have gone to his head. Infatuation was turning the poor guy into a ditz.
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