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"One Thing Leads "Written By: Presser
Disclaimer : I do not own Gundam Wing or its characters. This work of fiction is written and shared freely without any attempt to profit financially from it. Pairings: 1x2, 3x4 Summary: An exploration of sexual addiction and its consequences. Warnings: Intense lemon fic, including one group sex scene near the end. Voyeurism is a focus; lust and lewdness is central. AU, Character personalities differ from the series, sometimes greatly. Lots of gratuitous sex, but yet (incredibly) there is, indeed, a plot. AN: I've chosen to omit abuse from the warnings, and I expect some will think this is wrong. No physical harm comes to any character, and the emotional damage described is unintentional. "One Thing Leads" "You're kidding me." "Nope. Roger said I could have it, but I have to go to his house and pick it up." "That's fantastic, Heero. But -- just a sec, 'kay?" Duo lowered his phone. "That's beautiful, thank you," he said to the girl behind the counter. He passed his card to her, which she swiped and returned, then handed him a venti raspberry lemonade. Duo took it and moved toward the door. He raised his phone as he gave the drink a big pull. "So, yeah, that's great. But you can't carry an air conditioner on your bike." "Of course not." Heero paused. Duo took another sip, frowning. "So..." "So I was wondering if you'd be willing to ask Quatre for a favor." "Yeah, I guess. I mean, we're friends, but I've never asked to borrow his car or anything like that before." "Well, I don't know anyone /I/ can ask, so --" "Okay, I'll do it. I think I know him well enough." "Great." "Yeah." Duo swigged more lemonade as he pushed through the doors of the South Campus Dining Hall and onto the street. He squinted as shafts of bright sunlight broken by shifting leaves and branches played across his eyes. "So, hang up and call him already." "What's the rush?" Duo looked left and right, then crossed South Ellis, headed toward the SSA. "Roger wants it off his hands by the weekend." "Why?" "How the hell do I know that?" Heero said. "Don't bite my head off." "Sorry. It's just that I want to tell Roger when I'll pick it up as soon as I can. I don't want him to change his mind." Duo took the three steps up to the large concrete porch, then headed past the low stone rectangle carved with his building's formal name -- The School of Social Service Administration -- and into the enormous lobby. He was grateful on such a hot day that the floor-to-ceiling windows were of tinted glass. "You think he'd take back the offer?" "No. I don't know. Maybe a close friend will ask for it, and he'd feel more obligated --" "Say no more," Duo said, looking for a comfortable chair. "Quatre's in my next class, which is in" -- he pulled his phone from his ear, checked the time, then returned it -- "less than an hour." "Text me as soon as he says yes." "Keep your pants on." Duo slurped loudly right into the phone. "Stop that," Heero said. "I just don't want to lose this opportunity." "All I can say is, I hope Quatre trusts me more than you trust Roger." Heero snorted. "It's not like that." "I'm just jerking you," Duo said, finding a spot far from the windows. He shouldered out of his backpack, dropped it to the floor, and pulled his braid to the front as he plopped into the chair he'd chosen. "And, yeah, it's like that." "Fuck off." "No, you first." "Look, my break's over. Got to get back." "I'll ask Quatre." "Thanks." Duo ended the call. He set his lemonade on an end table, then bent to his backpack. He slipped his phone into one pocket, zippered it closed. He opened the main compartment and fished out his books and notebook for Social Intervention: Programs and Policies I, feeling a boost of happiness thanks to Heero's good news. He flipped to the chapter he needed to review before class, then found the last page of notes he had taken. He huffed out a sigh. "Air conditioning! Yay!" he whispered, a big smile on his face, as he uncapped his pen. # "When?" "That's the question," Duo said, grateful that Quatre Winner had said yes so easily. The boy before him was as slim as he was and half a head shorter, with platinum-blonde hair so fine it blew in the breeze made just by a person walking by. It hung into alert aquamarine eyes and dusted the tops of his ears. "Heero says Roger -- his workmate who's giving us the unit -- wants it gone by the weekend, so if we could pick it up no later than Friday..." Duo left the sentence unfinished as Quatre pulled his iPhone from a pocket and consulted his calendar. Quatre dressed in cutting-edge fashion, always business casual, and seemed at ease with every aspect of life. Duo had never caught him off-guard, whether playing a prank (sneaking up behind him before class and tapping his shoulder, which came to nothing when Quatre grabbed his hand without turning to see) or discussing politics. "Today's Wednesday," Quatre said, wrinkling his nose. "Can't today, and I've got tomorrow blocked out to finish the prep for Dr. Petrin's symposium -- he asked me to assist, and I'm really excited about it. But Friday afternoon's free. My last class is over at two-thirty. Would that work?" Quatre looked up, eyes wide under thin blond eyebrows. "Sure. I'm done at noon. I can hang here and study till you're finished." "Great," Quatre said, slipping his iPhone into the front pocket of crisp chinos the color of wet sand. He flashed a glittering smile. Duo thanked him. Quatre turned, bent, picked up his leather bag. "Oh," Duo said hesitantly. "I just realized I don't know where Roger lives." "Yes?" "Well, I hope I'm not signing you up for a long trip." "Don't worry about that. It'd give us time to talk, get to know each other better." Duo blinked. He liked Quatre, liked him a lot. More than once he had thought that, as different from Heero as the boy was, he would have pursued him if he hadn't already hooked up with his Japanese lover. "I'd like that," Duo said. "But -- I know. Why don't you plan on dinner with us?" "You don't need to repay me for this, Duo. I'm happy --" "It's not that. If the trip's long, and I don't know what's involved in getting the unit out of Roger's place and into our apartment -- plus, you've hinted more than once you'd like to meet Heero." Quatre met Duo's expectant look with an easy smile. "That sounds great. I'd love it." "Done deal," Duo said, smiling broadly. # /It's a go. Q + me Fri after class. Need directions. Is it far?/ Duo thumbed the /Send/ button and dropped his phone into his bag. He slung the pack over one shoulder and started toward the classroom door. Just before he entered the hall, he stopped and turned to survey his desk. Satisfied that he hadn't left anything behind, he headed toward home. The Ellis Street Apartments were thirteen blocks north of the SSA building, where most of Duo's classes were held. Most of the year the walk was pleasant, taking Duo through the University of Chicago and past museums, theaters, and eateries of all sorts. Duo loved the old feel of the neighborhood. Hyde Park had been left untouched by the Great Fire of 1871, and some of the oldest trees, homes, and businesses in Chicago still stood proudly throughout the community. The people, too, were fascinating. Elderly couples walking hand in hand were passed by university students, young families, and briefcase-carrying executive types. And since people were the subject of Duo's intended career, he loved being a part of the community, even though he knew it was only temporary. But this Wednesday afternoon in August, the summer heat reigned in almost all activity save for cars zipping by with windows rolled up tight. Duo walked slowly, knowing that, regardless of his pace, he'd end up at home soaked in sweat. Even so, the anticipation of installing an air conditioner in the apartment in just forty-eight hours kept a smile on his face. /And we'll celebrate by having dinner with Quatre. One of my favorite --/ Duo's phone sang. He unshouldered his bag as he walked and retrieved it. It was a text from Heero. Duo quickly viewed the message. /Great. Naperville. Roger says must be picked up before 5p./ Duo tapped the link to an online map at the bottom of the screen. "Forty-two miles, shit." He glanced up and narrowly avoided colliding with two small girls passing a basketball between them on the sidewalk. He did a quick calculation, then answered the text. /Should be okay. Q + me will leave around 2:30p. Even w/ traffic we'll be there before 5./ Duo sent the text and put his phone away. He spent the rest of his walk home thinking about dinner plans. # "Ready?" Duo looked up from his books. His mouth silently fell open. Standing in front of him in the SSA lobby was Quatre Winner, but unlike he had ever seen him before. The young man wore a tee shirt the color of his bright turquoise eyes with a large red dot in the center of the chest. It was tight enough to show that, slim though Quatre was, he worked his body. Pecs and abs showed clear definition. White short shorts were his only other garment, save for leather sandals. Duo stared at the young man's legs, tan, muscular, and furry with blond hair the color of freshly cut hay. "You wore that to class?" Quatre's laugh was musical and oddly forceful. The boy shook as he fell forward and put a hand on Duo's shoulder. "How funny is that," he said, straightening. "The Great Professor Anderson would've had a whole litter of puppies if I had showed in this. I slipped into the men's room and changed. If we're going to be manhandling an air conditioner, I figured I'd be better off to dress down." Duo swallowed. He realized he was gaping, and blushed as he looked away. "So, where to?" "Um, Naperville," Duo said as he packed books and notebooks into his bag. "I hope that's not too far." "Nah. It's early yet. I-55 will be clear as a bell going out. We'll hit some traffic coming back, but most of it will be the other way." Duo stood. "Great." "I'm out back." Quatre turned and headed toward the main hallway that cut the SSA building neatly in half. Duo followed. He unconsciously reached across his chest to put his hand on the shoulder Quatre had touched. He couldn't keep his eyes off the hem of the boy's shorts, just barely long enough to cover the crease of his cheeks at the top of his thighs as he walked. # "Really?" "Yep. My dad insisted that I not use my condition as an excuse, so after the doctors confirmed the diagnosis, he took charge of my training personally. He was an Army Drill Instructor for eighteen years before he retired and got lucky at the beginning of the internet era with --" "Hold on," Duo said, trying to process the info coming rapid-fire from Quatre. He sat up and twisted to face his friend at the wheel of his M3. "Let me get this right. You found out you had chronic anemia when you were nine." "Uh huh." "And your dad's response was to make you work out? As in weight lifting?" "And aerobic training, calisthenics, everything. Complete fitness regimen. Sort of what he put his men through in basic training, but cut back a bit for a scrawny little kid." "Well, you're certainly not scrawny now," Duo said, then clapped a hand over his mouth as his eyes went wide. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have --" Quatre shook with musical laughter. "Thanks. I'll take compliments like that from you anytime, Duo." Duo's cheeks warmed. He looked out the window at Chicago suburbs streaming past. "But working out won't help anemia. It's an iron deficiency; a blood thing." "I know," Quatre said with a sigh. "And I saw doctors on a regular basis. Vitamin B12 shots, all that. Still take 'em, in fact. But I think Dad thought working my body couldn't hurt. And he checked that out with the docs before he started my program." "Did you like it?" "Hell, no. What nine-year-old wants to spend two hours a day with a DI barking at him after dinner three nights a week? But it became a part of me, eventually. I still -- hang on." Quatre swerved to avoid a car that jerked into his lane without warning. Even though he was strapped in place, Duo slid on the butter-smooth leather of the BMW's bucket seat, his ass scooting forward as his shoulders fell into the corner made by the seatback and door. "Sorry. Chicago has a healthy share of insanity behind the wheel." "So," Duo said, adjusting his position. He slipped his feet out of his sandals and crossed his legs under his butt as he turned again to face Quatre. He adjusted shoulder straps, then leaned forward, elbows on knees. "You grew up as a military brat. What made you want to go into social work?" "Not exactly a military brat. Dad retired from the Army when I was six. He took his part of his savings and put them into a little thing called domain names." "He bought domain names?" "Back when no one knew what they were. Back when these guys called internet consultants were telling companies like Wal-Mart and Time Magazine and Starbucks they needed to put money into developing something called a web site. The BMW leaned into a long curve marked with orange-yellow speed limit signs. They slowed a little. "Probably sounds unbelievable, but in 1998, those outfits were run by people who thought email was a gimmick and weren't entirely sure they trusted new technology like fax machines. Dad was always a geek. He did some heavy research, and decided that, if the internet took off, reached even half the potential the visionaries said it had, there would be a land rush of sorts for domain names." "Which ones did he buy?" "Most would mean nothing to you or anyone else. He bought one hundred common words he figured would be valuable to someone one day. All of them sold, eventually." "Any of them famous?" "Well, not famous, exactly, but, yeah. Useful. I mean, the names made sense for various industries once companies realized they had to be on the web." Quatre checked his rearview mirror and changed lanes. "Plus shorter is better, and name recognition is everything." Duo pulled his braid forward to play with the tip, something he did when he was preoccupied. He was glad for the opportunity to get to know Quatre, and focused all his attention on the boy as he drove, admiring his good looks. "Like..." "How about candy-dot-com, wine-dot-com, autos-dot-com, credit-cards-dot-com..." "Holy shit, Quatre. Those must have sold for --" "Millions, yeah. Dad did okay." As Quatre accelerated out of the curve, he saw an old pickup truck stalled on the side of the highway. A driver two cars ahead drifted toward the truck, saw it at the last minute, and corrected his course, lurching directly in front of the BMW and the car between them. Quatre whipped the wheel to the right and slammed the brakes as hard as he could. The BMW spun, skidded, and narrowly missed the driver ahead of him, who also swerved to avoid the car that created the problem. Duo saw what was happening and immediately uncrossed his legs. He faced forward and shot them straight into the floorboard, stiffening his muscles to brace himself. Even though his seat belt was secure, he was thrown hard. He put his arms out to prevent his face from smashing the dashboard, squeezed his eyes shut, and ducked his head. "Fucktard!" Quatre screamed. He fought to stop the car from spinning while desperately checking to see if anyone behind him was a potential threat. Vehicles swerved around the BMW. As Quatre brought the car under control and slowed, Duo opened his eyes and looked in all directions. Doppler-shifted horns blared as angry drivers made faces and offered help via choice hand signals. "It's not our fucking fault!" Duo yelled. "Damn right!" Quatre yelled. He checked in all directions repeatedly as he slowed to the minimum speed. "I'm taking this exit. Need a minute." "Of course. Me, too." Quatre navigated the off ramp to street level, found the first possible place to park -- the lot fronting a seedy-looking motel-restaurant combo -- and cut the engine. For a full minute of silence Quatre and Duo each looked through the front window at nothing, contemplating what had happened. Then Quatre turned his head. The movement caught the corner of Duo's eye, and he faced his friend. "You okay?" Duo released his breath all at once. "Yeah." Their eyes met. Suddenly Quatre exploded with laughter, shaking so vigorously Duo wondered if he was having a seizure. The sound wasn't at all musical, but rather a rapid staccato bark knotted with stress and tension. Quatre fell toward Duo, and he put his arms out to catch him, afraid he was passing out. But Quatre put his hands on Duo's shoulders and gasped for air, then began laughing anew. When he brought up his head, their noses touched. Duo's eyes went as wide as saucers. Quatre sucked in air and held it, his eyes opened full in a mirror image of Duo's. Without warning he nudged forward with puckered lips and pecked them against Duo's. Quatre fell back against his door, laughing maniacally at the bewildered look on Duo's face. Duo's mouth dropped open in silence. Gradually Quatre caught his breath, his laughter morphing into its usual melodic grace as his tension fell away. "God, I'm sorry, Duo. You're probably scared to be in the same space with me now." "No," Duo said. He worked at sounding nonchalant; fought the desire to wince at how not nonchalant he felt. "It's kind of like a defense mechanism," Quatre said, calming. He smoothed his shirt with the palms of his hands, starting at his collarbones and moving down, off his aqua tee, and over his white short shorts, then down his thighs and legs as far as he could reach, his forehead coming to rest on the driver's wheel as his fingers brushed his ankles. He drew a large breath and huffed it out loudly. "I know I probably sounded like I lost it completely. It's the way I react to a near miss. Kind of crazy, huh?" Duo shook his head a little. "Yeah..." He smiled shyly. Giggles erupted from Quatre again. Duo was relieved to hear nothing but music in them. # "Thanks, Roger. You have no idea how grateful Heero and I are." "Not a problem," Roger said as he dusted Hagrid-sized palms together after lowering his garage door to the concrete drive. He turned and smiled at Quatre and Duo as they lugged the air conditioning unit a half-dozen steps to the open trunk of Quatre's BMW. "Honey, don't forget this." Duo looked over his shoulder to see a petite woman in jeans and plaid blouse with her hand out toward Roger. He took a thin plastic bag from her containing documentation for the air unit. "Thanks, Doris." Duo turned back to help Quatre settle the machine against one side of the trunk wall for support. "Here's your manual," Roger said, handing the plastic bag to Duo as Quatre closed the trunk. Both boys shook hands with Roger, then piled into the car. # Though there hadn't been any uncertainty in Duo's budding friendship with Quatre, the near-crisis bonding experience on the way to Kroger's produced an even more relaxed camaraderie between them. On the way to Duo's apartment, Quatre told jokes and stories of growing up with an Army DI for a father; Duo shared his passion for helping people find solutions to life problems. "That's exactly what Dr. Petrin gets wrong," Quatre said forcefully. "Don't misunderstand; he's brilliant and all, but so old school. He thinks the only reason for doing social work is to teach people the right way -- no, the /proper/ way" -- Quatre stressed the adjective with a halfhearted attempt at a British accent and brought Duo's own musical giggles bubbling out of him -- "to live. Can you imagine trying to quote-teach-end quote a single mother in the projects" -- Quatre held an imaginary monocle to his eye as he drove -- "the /correct and proper/ way to live?" "I think Dr. Anderson's philosophy is worse," Duo said through a broad smile. "She makes it out that we're life coaches in training. Why the hell can't it be as simple as, life's hard, there are resources, let me show them to you?" "What would they teach, then?" Both boys looked at each other and said the word /right/ at the exact same moment, then shook with easy laughter. # "Okay," Duo said as Quatre eased the BMW into a parking spot right in front of his apartment's door. "We're on the third floor -- sorry, that means two flights of stairs. But you don't have to carry it. I'll get Heero." "Absolutely not," Quatre said, cutting the engine after putting it in park. "What kind of impression will I make if I stand here like a Nancy girl while you get your /big, strong/ boyfriend" -- Quatre stretched out the adjectives as he put a stiff, bent-wrist palm on the red dot on his chest -- "to help you carry such a /mean/ and /heavy/ --" "Cut the shit, kid," Duo said with his best Humphrey Bogart. Quatre smiled, chuckled suggestively. "You're smart," he said in a little girl's voice. "And cute, too," he added. Duo stuck out his tongue under a scrunched nose and eyebrows. To his surprise, Quatre immediately lunged forward and wrapped it with his lips. Duo fell backward against his door. "God, I'm sorry, Duo," Quatre said, suddenly meek. "I didn't mean --" "Listen, Quatre," Duo said. Quatre's face instantly turned sober. "I'm sorr --" "No, listen to me," Duo said, his voice quiet. "I like you. In fact, I'll tell you something I shouldn't. If I hadn't known Heero when I met you, I'd have been after you quicker than --" "Really?" "Please, just listen." Quatre drew inward. "I like you. A lot. A helluva lot, actually. And that's a problem for me. 'Cause I'm with Heero." Pause. Duo exhaled. "You --" Quatre put a finger to Duo's lips. "Yes. I understand. I respect that, actually, though you might not think it after the way I've acted today. But, god, Duo, just in case you haven't realized, you're hot. Worth fifteen average guys plus a couple of porn stars." Duo turned bright red in an instant. "So all I'm saying is, don't blame me for making a move, 'kay? And I promise I won't do it again. I don't want to lose your friendship, which this itty bitty road trip made me cherish even more than I did before." Quatre couldn't read the expression on Duo's face. Duo couldn't find words to express the mixture of pride, relief, and disturbing horniness he felt at hearing Quatre's words. After a long moment of staring into each other's eyes, Duo quietly thanked Quatre. They exited the car and moved to the trunk to start the process of dragging a top-of-the-line air conditioning unit up to Heero and Duo's apartment. TBC |
