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"Dirty Job"Written By: ExecutiveShrimp Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, it belongs
to Bandai, Sotsu and associated parties. Written for pleasure not
profit. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: Violence, angst, Lemons, Limes Pairings: 1x2x1 Summary: Duo is a masterful pickpocket and skilled but small-time con artist who always chooses to play it safe. When his best friend owes the wrong people a lot of money, Duo get pulled into a high-stakes plot to rob thirty-something billionaire Heero Yuy. The only way to succeed and save his friend is to push his own boundaries and get way too involved.
"Dirty Job" Chapter 13 Duo released a grumbling sigh and threw his gaze up at the ceiling of the elevator. "You shouldn't have come," he mumbled as he could feel the questioning stare on him, unable to ignore the drunk elephant in the room any longer. "What are you whining about?" J.J. shot back. "You literewally told me to come." The tall American rolled his eyes at his little brother who was so out of it he could barely talk. "I told you that yesterday and I hoped you understood that to mean that you shouldn't have partied all through the night and show up still drunk and high." "… Maybe you should have been more specific," he defended himself petulantly. Duo glared at him. "Maybe you should get your head out of your ass. Things are tense already, you tagging along, standing there – barely standing there," he amended as he scrutinized the way the younger man swayed his weight from one foot to another, "isn't going to help matters." "Why you gotta be so damn serious, man? It's just another dumb meeting." The doors of the elevator opened and Duo led the way through the white hallway. J.J. started telling him about the "awesome" night he had until the older man spun around and silenced him with the mere raise of his index finger. "Not a word out of you in there, got it?" When J.J. didn't respond with "Yessir!", but instead chuckled sheepishly, Duo grabbed him by his collar and pulled him close. He scrunched up his nose at the smell permeating from the young man's clothes and greasy, long hair. "None of this is funny." "Alright, alright." J.J. shook himself free once his big brother loosened his grip on him; with a limp, uncoordinated hand he smoothed out the wrinkles in his hopelessly stained shirt. Duo hissed: "What have I ever done to you? Have I done something wrong?" J.J. stared back at him quizzically. "Don't you see I've done everything I could? Why are you like this?" His heart sank at the sight of those dead, red eyes. It was a bad moment to realize that maybe not even A.J. could have saved this kid from becoming what he was. Duo needed to be focused – there was still a job to do. He took a deep breath and then rapped his fist against the door. After two wild heartbeats, Angelica opened the door with a smile. "Hey handsome." She let them both inside for their weekly meeting. As J.J. passed by, she muttered under her breath, "Dios mio…" The Bear eyed Duo with a dangerous smirk and Duo couldn't deny to himself that it got to him, but he hoped he was at least able to pretend to the others that he wasn't affected. "Had another lovely date?" Neil inquired from his seat behind the desk. "It went well." That was not a lie. As unnerving as the evening had been, it was a huge step forward. For Heero to tell him the things he did meant that he trusted him now. With that trust, he felt confident he could speed things along. "What about your chore, how did that go?" "Harold Greer," Neil said with a despicable tone. "The most boring person on Earth to tail. Ever. All he ever does is work and work-out in one of those obnoxious gay places. Gym, work, home. Gym, work, home. Gym, work, home – I could go on all week because that's exactly what this entire week has been like for me! Gym, work, home-" Duo raised his hand. "I get it," he snapped. "Maybe it would help if I knew what I was looking for?" Neil countered sarcastically. "As the assistant, he is bound to know things that could be of help to us. I thought that if you could find some dirt on him, we could persuade him to help us." The Russian scoffed. "Well, this time, your 'hunch' failed. This guy is devoted to Yuy – unhealthily so – and Yuy trusts him; there is probably no chance of turning Greer against his boss. He's been working with him for seven years – moved here from New York with him." "Well, Yuy trusts me too, so…" Duo stared at the team leader defiantly. To refocus on the job, he asked: "So what's his work day like?" Neil shrugged. "Most days he's at the Tower; I don't know what kind of shit he does there. A couple of times a day, he comes out to run some errands: dry-cleaning, mail some shit, pick up some stuff." "Stuff?" Duo quirked an eyebrow, pressing him to be more specific. "I don't know – fan-mail, male lingerie, a Snuggie – boxes! He goes out and picks up something in a box!" "And he doesn't do anything… iffy?" "Iffy? Is that a technical term?" Neil retorted, his turn to criticize the meaningless, general term. "No. He's a solid assistant and Yuy must think so too to let him handle his stuff. He even let him go to the gallery on his behalf." That caught Duo's attention. Immediately, his mind supplied memories of the exchange in Heero's office earlier, when he negotiated the purchase of that painting with Borges via his assistant. That was the only time he met Harold and alarm bells went off instantly. "When?" "Last week." Neil shrugged, not yet understanding the potential importance of the information. "He just went to the gallery, or…?" "He left the Tower with Yuy's usual escort, stopped by the gallery and went in with a suitcase – money, probably – came back out something-like ten minutes later with the painting. He and the guards dropped it off at the mansion, then he was brought back to the Tower." "Hn." He sends his assistant to the gallery to buy the painting, trusting him with 310 thousand dollars? "'Hn', what?" Neil drummed his short, thick fingers on the surface of the desk. "I think Harold is stealing from Yuy." Neil waited for him to elaborate; since Duo didn't, he pressed: "Do tell, mighty mind reader, how you came up with that?" "Harold doesn't respect Yuy," he reflected offhandedly, remembering the attention-seeking way in which he dressed himself, "He was all but contemptuous, and dismissed the idea of loyalty. Yuy was blind to it of course… Why would he follow Yuy halfway across the country if not out of loyalty and respect?" "Money," Neil concurred, then a frown appeared on his face. "But he doesn't make that much. I called in a few more favors and – if I recall correctly – his salary was only moderate, albeit perfectly acceptable for his function." "But he wears all high-brand clothing and his shoes looked professionally shined…" Duo's train of thought stalled. It wasn't making much sense; something just wasn't on the up and up. "He's good at his job," he brainstormed aloud, "Yuy wouldn't have kept him on if he wasn't. If anyone is a good job reference, it's one of the world's wealthiest men, so he shouldn't have had any trouble getting a new job if he stayed behind in New York. But clearly there was sufficient financial gain involved if he relocated." "Okay…" "Who was his previous employer?" "Why would you assume that I looked into that?" Neil retorted, but he was already smirking. He didn't keep up the game of pretense and after a short pause he answered: "Greer was the personal assistant for one of Y-enterprises regional managers. He worked on the thirtieth floor of the same building as Yuy for four years before he actively pursued the position of Yuy's assistant. It all checks out." Not exactly a smoking gun. Still, Duo's suspicions remained. "How could he possibly steal from Yuy?" Neil inquired, edging along the brainstorm. "Honestly? I don't know." The Russian scoffed, not impressed with the answer. "I'd chat him up a little to get more of a feel for the guy, but he already met me so I won't get a fresh perspective. He's not going to tell me jack shit anyway, knowing I'm cozy with his boss." Duo pursed his lips at the displeasing situation. "Does it even matter?" Angelica chimed in. "So what if he's stealing from him? We are going to steal from him as well." Turning to face her, he explained: "If Harold is really the snake I suspect he is and I can expose him as such, Yuy would be just about ready to hand me the code to his safe. That's the kind of trust level I need with him, and this could be a much needed short-cut. But if I wrongfully accuse him…" Duo made a face – there would be no going back after a mistake like that. "Maybe I could go talk to him?" J.J. suggested in his stupor. The American brushed the idea off as idiotic, but Neil jumped in: "Hold on, why not? You said you shouldn't go talk to him, so why not J.J.? He should do something to earn his cut." "Hey!" Whined the youngster petulantly. "I do stuff." Duo cocked an eyebrow at Neil. "Seriously? I'm not going to stand here and pretend that what I do is rocket science because it's not. But I've tried to teach him the tricks of the trade before and he's not exactly…" He looked back at his little brother over his shoulder, watching him barely hold onto consciousness, "a quick learner." Suddenly Angelica punched Duo in the shoulder and exclaimed: "I have a great idea! We're going to go full spy-movie on this guy." Neil and Duo wondered in unison, equally confused: "What does that mean?" "We fit J.J. with a mic and an earpiece and you can talk him through it." Duo scoffed but the would-be General was intrigued by the idea. "Yeah!" She continued enthusiastically: "We could even pin that little camera on him. You'd be able to see and hear everything." "I don't think that's a good idea," Duo mumbled, but he could already tell from the way Neil's small eyes lit up that he would be forced to carry out this plan. Halfheartedly he helped strategize for the next thirty minutes: J.J. would join Harold's gym and casually start up a conversation with him; Duo would help guide him from there. They agreed to postpone the meet for a few days, giving J.J. the time to sober up, and clean up. Duo knew he was an attractive guy under the hazy eyes, stinking breath and greasy hair. If J.J. could be trusted to put in the effort, he shouldn't have much trouble attracting and maintaining Harold's attention… But that was the whole problem: Trust. J.J. couldn't be trusted to do anything. It had been like that since he was young – even before A.J.'s death – and that endearing, wild spirit had only worsened over the years, eventually becoming just about the only thing you could count on with the younger man. As they left the apartment building Duo gave J.J. strict instructions to stay away from booze and drugs. He gave him some money – some of the cash Heero continued to pay him – to get a haircut, go to the dentist, and even get a manicure. He suffered the expected string of "you're so gay" jokes and stuffed him in a taxi after ordering the driver to take him home. J.J. would come to his apartment the day after tomorrow so Duo could give him some pointers; he made him make a notification of it on his phone, lest he'd forget. The conman had little time to fret over his little brother suddenly playing a pretty important role in the operation – he had another date to get ready for. He had felt much more secure with J.J. staying mostly out of it, far away from the action. Not only so he couldn't mess anything up, but also so he wouldn't be in any danger. To try and calm his fried nerves – that had become a constant state of being for him – he sat in his window sill and smoked three cigarettes, one after another, desperately sucking the smoke into his body. He quietly admitted to himself that he understood the appeal of the numbing drugs that J.J. regularly succumbed to; then immediately afterward, he hated himself for even thinking about the temptation of shooting up and not feeling the guilt, stress and pressure. As if he wasn't already a bad enough role model for his little brother – being a thief and professional liar – the last thing that would help anyone was for him to get high. Nicotine would have to do. Afterward, he took a long shower to wash the scent out of his hair and put on fresh clothes: another all black outfit. He had lost hope that his wardrobe would prompt Heero to tell him why he refused to wear black himself, and besides, it wasn't about that anymore. Wearing black just made him feel a little bit more comfortable and a little bit more like himself. That was as important as anything in this stage of the game. He was about ready to leave when the buzz of the intercom startled him; his body flinched violently in reaction. Calvin was at the door and asked to be let upstairs to escort him down to the car, no doubt. Knowing better than to argue with the driver, Duo buzzed the man in and waited for him in the doorway. He quirked an eyebrow as he watched the tall man approach him, carrying a box. A box wrapped in dark blue wrapping paper. "What's that?" He eyed it suspiciously. He told Yuy he didn't like these gifts! But then again, could you really be mad at someone for giving you a present? Of all the things in the world to be irked by, that had to at least be the most loathsome. "I don't know, I wasn't informed." "What's in the box, Calvin? What's in the box?!" He joked. He was certain the movie quote was pretty well-known, but the driver looked at him quizzically. Stepping aside he told him: "Nevermind. You can put it on the dinner table, then we can go." "Master Yuy would want you to open your gift first," Calvin said as he carried the gift into the apartment and put it down as instructed. "Well, 'Master Yuy' isn't here," Duo quipped. He could tell that Calvin wanted to retort, but the need to be polite overruled his desire to make certain that Duo follow the instructions his master relayed. Quietly the man led the way downstairs to the car. Yuy wasn't there – he had simply sent Calvin to fetch Duo, even though that wasn't announced nor agreed upon. The billionaire still liked to do things his own way, with little to no regard for what other people would want or feel comfortable with. When they arrived at the house, Gerry was at the front door waiting to greet him. The old butler seemed to like the American more and more as he came to the mansion more often than ever. Duo's guilt was nearly crippling whenever he looked into Gerry's hopeful eyes; the kindhearted man genuinely believed that Duo would be the one to save his master from loneliness, unbeknownst to the truth. "What's up, Ger," He said in greeting, with a practiced, falsely casual tone. "Welcome, Duo," The man replied – he had given up on calling him "Mister Maxwell" a while ago, but it had taken a lot of reminders to get him to do so. "Traffic must have been light; you are a little earlier than expected." He glanced down at his silver watch. "Master Yuy is finishing up a business call, but he said you are welcome to join him in the office." With that being said, he led Duo through the two sets of doors into the home office. Gerry didn't announce him like he normally would, being careful not to unnecessarily interrupt Yuy's phone call. Duo idled in the middle of the room and observed the businessman sitting behind his desk with the phone to his ear, listening intently while staring at his computer screen. The American expected to be ignored, but then – like lightning so sudden, unexpected and jarring – the blue gaze was redirected to him. Duo felt all the more uncomfortable at the way the eyes sparkled as the man appeared happy to see him – as happy as the stoic man was able to express. In that moment, he preferred Yuy's cold, calculating stare. With his hand, Yuy covered the receiver of his phone and asked: "Did Calvin give you your gift?" "Yes." Duo fought to conceal his discomfort. He used to hate it when Yuy ignored him in favor of his work and business calls, but it was unexpectedly intimidating to be the Japanese man's priority instead. That was something a nice guy would do, and he couldn't afford to think of Heero as a nice guy. Mustering up some of his trademark, cheeky attitude, he added: "But I didn't open it. If you really insist on giving me presents, you should give them to me yourself, not have them sent to me." "Hn." Was the only reply. He glanced at his computer screen and then leaned down to fetch something out of the drawer of his desk. Hn? Duo could feel himself starting to get annoyed, even if that made zero sense because only a few seconds ago he acknowledged he preferred for Heero to be an asshole and ignore him. But then, his eyes widened when the businessman produced another gift wrapped box – smaller than the one Calvin had brought and more square – and set it on the corner of his desk. Putting his hand over the receiver again, Heero inquired: "Will you at least open this one, then?" To say he was dumbstruck was an understatement. To say he was a little endeared was… dangerous. He approached the desk, feeling a tingle in his fingers, like a child on Christmas morning. A novel kind of excitement and curiosity that he couldn't deny. He didn't get much presents in his lifetime and although the cynic in him reminded him that Yuy was merely aiming to buy his affection, he felt a little giddy. Still, with an appropriate amount of apprehension, he tore at the paper. This is when the cold man shows his true colors and the gifts are some kind of weird, BDSM sex toy thing, he thought to himself. A quick glance and he was disappointed to note Heero was absorbed into his work again, but he couldn't contain his curiosity and finished unpacking the present. He stared at the white, cardboard box, with an image of the item inside on every side of it. A camera. A Nikon DSLR camera. The text advertised impressive specs and features that meant very little to Duo, but he knew that the more functions an electronic device had, the more expensive it would be and this thing fell only just short of doubling as a toaster and jetpack, it appeared. Knowing Heero would be wrapped-up in his phone call for a while, he walked his present to the black couch in the office and sat down with it in his lap. Still feeling that childlike excitement, he opened the box and took out the camera. Scanning over the instructions, he surmised how to mount the lens on the body of the camera and did so promptly. When he pressed the ON button, the screen blinked to life and the lens whirred as it automatically focused. Without thinking he aimed the device and snapped his first picture. A picture of Heero. He stared at the frozen image on the screen for a moment: at the white of Heero's button-up shirt contrasting with the dark interior of the room, and the way the man's eyes glowed as they reflected the light of his computer screen. He was so handsome with his rolled up sleeves and messy hair, a deconstructed version of himself – raw and honest. Duo shook his head at himself and remembered his mission. Under the guise of playing with his camera, he snapped a ton of pictures of the interior of the office so the rest of the team could get an inside look. Maybe Angelica could give him tips on where he could be hiding the safe. When he lowered the camera he felt his face go hot as he noticed the businessman had ended his phone call and was watching him. The conman shrugged sheepishly at him, pretending not to have been up to no good. "Thanks for the present." "You're welcome." "Why, though?" He couldn't help but wonder, although he had an inkling. "I figured since you prefer photography over paintings, you should get to capture your own truth." Duo nodded. It was as he had suspected, but he hated that because it was quite thoughtful and kind. Heero was really paying attention to him, the way Duo was paying attention to the billionaire, but Heero's intentions seemed to be pure. "What was the gift you had Calvin bring me?" "A laptop." Duo raised his eyebrows at hearing he got a second, very expensive gift – although probably still not nearly as expensive as the photo Heero had bought him before. "I assumed you didn't have one." Assumed? Isn't making assumptions supposed to be my job around here? "I didn't." "Well, you really need one to go with the camera," he explained offhandedly. "Thanks." He didn't know what else to say. Gerry interrupted them when he knocked on the door and stepped inside. "Dinner is ready." They shared a quiet dinner and, as per usual, Duo was served dessert at the end of it while Heero only sipped on a glass of red wine. The American was about halfway through his Tiramisu when Gerry walked in with a bowed head and announced that a Mister What's-his-name from Company So-and-so was on the line and apparently it was urgent. Much to Duo's surprise, Heero said: "Tell him I'll call him back. We haven't finished dinner yet." Before Gerry could leave to do as instructed, Duo jumped in: "No, it's fine, take the call. You are finished with dinner; you don't have to sit there and watch me stuff my face." "I remember you getting quite upset with me when I conducted business on an evening when I was hosting you as my guest," he reminded me. "Yeah, but this is different." "Why?" "Because this time I'm telling you it's fine. I'm giving you permission." Duo smirked at the look on Heero's face at the notion that he needed anyone's permission to do anything. "Just take the call." Regaining his composure, he said: "Alright. If it takes a while you are welcome to go into the TV room to entertain yourself." "I'm sure I'll be fine." He grinned at him. Once Heero left, Duo quickly finished his Tiramisu, grabbed his new camera and started to wander through the rooms – the ones he knew he was allowed to go into unsupervised – snapping pictures, doing a good job of scouting the place. The staff that cleared the table and cleaned the kitchen paid no attention to him. There were security cameras in every room and he made sure to inconspicuously include them in the frame, although with Angelica's skills they shouldn't be much of an obstacle once the time came. Bored with his task, but enjoying the camera, he headed outside. It was dark already so he fiddled with the settings and snapped test shots. The pool's surface rippled softly in a light breeze and the way the water distorted the underwater lights was hypnotizing. The leaves from the line of trees and shrubs that hid the back gate from view rustled. A security guard made his round through the black garden. Duo didn't even notice him until he saw a pair of round, glowing eyes in the dark – the eyes of the watchdog that trailed the guard and looked Duo's way, catching the light from the mansion. Duo released a shuddering breath; he wiped his sweaty palms on the side of his black jeans before they got so slippery he'd drop the expensive camera on the paved ground. After waiting for a long time, his host had yet to return. He put the camera on the small iron table of delicate leaf and vine design that sat by the pool, then kicked off his shoes, pulled off his socks and rolled up his jeans to over his knees. He maneuvered himself onto the edge of the pool and dropped his lower legs into the water. The air was cool, almost cold after nightfall, but the water of the pool was heated as was apparent with the steam rising up from it. For the last few years, the fall season had been warmer than everyone remembered from the good-old-days, making the switch to the bitter cold winters all the more jarring. The change in the weather was so abrupt in late November, early December; the weather girls were predicting the first temperature drop at the end of the week, and then it was only a matter of time until the first snowfall. Sitting there, with his legs submerged in warm water by a trillion-dollar mansion, Duo still shivered remembering the severe winters he had suffered as a homeless kid. The two outer fingers on his left hand still felt numb after nearly losing them to frostbite when he was ten years old, keeping his hands up in a cupped shape all day, begging for the passerby's to give him some change for food, for gloves, for new shoes, for a warm sweater. People didn't care. People only cared about solving their own misery. That was probably when he learned to be selfish, and that was a life lesson he needed to hold onto. Heero may be a nice guy after all, but it shouldn't matter. "Aren't you cold?" Duo was startled by the deep voice behind him. "Uh- no. The water is nice and warm." He looked over his shoulder at Heero standing there with his arms crossed in front of his chest and looking into the water. "If you want to swim," he continued, "there is an indoor pool." Duo chuckled. "No thanks. I can't swim." The man was silent for a moment. "Really?" "Yep. And don't even think about trying to teach me. Swimming is unnatural if you ask me." He laughed at himself. "So, done with work for today?" "Close enough." "Then come sit with me for a bit." He patted the spot on the edge of the pool next to him. "It's cold," Heero all but whined. "It's not cold," he chastised lightheartedly. "And the water will keep you warm." Nothing happened. Heero didn't say anything, nor did he move. Duo pursed his lips, annoyed that, after all that time, there was still a distance between them that he needed to cross. But then he heard the rustle of clothes and the scuffle of Italian leather shoes. He cocked his head and watched Heero, barefoot, roll up the legs of his slacks. The man paused, in a brief moment of hesitation, but then finally sat down on the ground next to Duo and dipped his feet into the water. After a minute of silence, the American spoke up. "Pretty nice, right?" "It's cold," Heero repeated. Duo snorted comically but in a bold move he put his hand on Heero's back and rubbed it up and down a few times. Reveling in the soft feel of the silk shirt and the hard muscles underneath. He pulled his hand back into his lap when he noticed how tense the man got and that he wasn't about to relax with him still touching him. They both stared into the water. "What was the call about?" Duo asked, in a pretty pathetic attempt to start up conversation. "Work." Well, duh. "Something important?" "It always is." Noting his exasperated tone, he inquired: "Do you like it, your job?" Heero shot back: "Do you?" Unfazed, Duo replied: "I like our evenings together." "What about your other job?" "My pickpocketing, you mean?" He nodded. Duo looked away, spotting the guard with his dog, making his second round across the property. "I guess I should say that I don't like it at all. That I feel bad about needing to steal to be able to eat and afford a place to live… But I don't." "Do you feel entitled to others' property?" "No, it's not that. I feel I deserve to live. I feel like there's a lot of wealth in this world and yet somehow a lot of us are still dirt poor. I feel like rich people should share. They can spare a little cash so we can eat. But they don't want to share, so we have to steal it." Getting defensive, he added: "Who's the selfish one: the one who steals to survive, or the one who can't part with a single dollar when he has plenty?" "These people you steal from," Heero started, his tone a little meeker than Duo was used to, "they work hard for their money." Duo snorted but felt unnerved by the gaze that Heero fixed on him. "You don't think they work hard? Because they aren't out in the cold, or do heavy labor?" He challenged. Duo stared back. He couldn't deny that Heero worked hard, but it wasn't the same. "That's not even my point though," he argued. "My point is that they get more money than they need, so they should share it with people that get less than they need." "Maybe they do." He chuckled bitterly. "I've sat on street corners for years on end and trust me, a lot of those fuckers didn't give me a dime." "Perhaps they already made donations to charities." "Yeah… okay… maybe, but… what about me? And the other kids I was with?" He sputtered. Heero shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe they were scared you would snatch their wallet out of their hands; maybe they thought they were being scammed; maybe there is so much poverty around them, they simply can't help everyone…" "Or maybe they just don't give a fuck." "Maybe," the other conceded. They both fell silent. Duo thought about what Heero had said. Although he wanted to dismiss it, he knew some of the kids on the streets pulled tricks like that – rip your wallet right out of your hands – and some of them weren't even that poor. They'd take a taxi uptown to beg and steal on their day off, then went home at night to sleep in a warm bed. But they weren't all scammers! That was no excuse to walk right by a young boy sitting crouched in the snow – blue fingers turning black - and not even look at him, not even acknowledge him as a human being, when he asked them for some pocket change for dinner. "Can I ask you something?" Duo shrugged and nodded. "How much money do you give to beggars on the streets?" He blinked. "What?" "I pay you two thousand dollars for every evening we spend together and lately that amounts to six to eight thousand dollars per week. So, I think it's fair to say you get more money than you need – strictly speaking. How much of it do you share?" Duo's face went red. The money was stashed under his floorboards. He never even thought of giving it away, always figuring he needed it, even though he didn't really. It wasn't enough to pay off Tsubarov – he needed to gain access to Yuy's vault for that kind of money – so why was he holding onto all of the money? He hadn't even thought about it. "I-… I-…" He shut his mouth in shame. "I don't think that makes you a bad person," Heero said as he accurately deduced that Duo hadn't been sharing his earnings, "I just thought you should know that other people aren't necessarily bad people either. Even rich people." "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply that you are one of 'those' rich guys." "I'm not trying to defend myself. I agree that I could give more and others could give more too. I'm just saying it's not necessarily because we don't 'give a fuck'." Duo nodded and apologized again. It was silent for a long time. Duo was lost in thought. It was scary to be confronted with the possibility that he – as a professional 'mind reader' – might have misjudged people for years, blinded by his own bias. "Speaking of being charitable," Heero spoke up, "I'm hosting an event next week. You could come with me. Maybe make a donation?" Duo smiled. "If you want me to come to your event, Yuy, just say so. Just ask me." He had gotten used to calling Heero by his first name and thinking of him in that way too, but sometimes he made the deliberate decision to use his last name, to prod him a little. He just had to be careful not to call him "Heero" in front of the others; it would give the wrong impression. The businessman chewed on the inside of his cheek but then said, albeit begrudgingly: "I want you to join me. Would you please attend the event with me?" The American grinned at his formal choice of words and forced, uncomfortable tone. "Thank you for your invitation. I'll consider it." He pursed his lips. "… You can be very frustrating." Duo let out a hearty laugh. "Pal, you don't even know the half of it." "I'm trying to do what you want me to," he said without making eye-contact, sounding peeved, "I'm trying…" His lips tightened. "I know you are. And I appreciate it. Actually… it means a lot to me." "Then you could at least give me a straight answer." Duo chuckled and bumped his shoulder against Heero's. "I was just kidding. I'd love to come with you." "Good," the other snapped and then furrowed his brows at himself. Confused and uncomfortable he turned his face away. The American shook his head at him. There was something disarming about the man. He could tell how unskilled he was at a social conversation and how vexing it was for the genius billionaire to not be good at something. He wasn't used to being faced with shortcomings, which made it all the more significant that he was making an effort with Duo when it would be so much easier to terminate their arrangement and move onto the next professional to keep him company. Staring at him, Duo noticed the goosebumps on his exposed forearms. "Still cold, huh?" "I'm fine," he lied. Duo playfully leaned in closer and whispered: "I know how you can get warmed up." Heero faced him with barely controlled horror as he assumed the supposed-prostitute was making him an indecent proposal, but before he could protest what he thought was a lewd comment, Duo – without giving it as much thought as he should have – put his hands on Heero's shoulders and pushed him off the edge. The American saw the two blue eyes widen as the businessman slipped into the pool. With a splash he was fully submerged. Duo was shocked as it dawned on him what he had done. Heero popped up, standing on the bottom of the pool, the surface of the water reaching his collarbone. His hair was a dark, wet mess around him and he had to push his bangs out of his face before he could open his eyes. His eyelashes stuck together with beads of water and he had his mouth open to take a deep breath. "Oh my God…" Duo covered his mouth with his hands. Why did I do that?! But then a fit of laughter overcame him and he could do nothing to stop himself from cracking up. "Oh m-my God, I'm- I'm so sorry," he stuttered, barely able to breathe let alone speak as he cackled and chortled. The billionaire just stood there in his pool. Duo couldn't read his expression, not able to see through the tears of laughter that welled up in his eyes. Part of it was just the release of bottled-up stress and disbelief at what he had done. When he finally quieted down, Heero said: "I can't believe you did that." "Me neither," Duo conceded, still chuckling at the perplexed look on the man's face, like he simply wasn't able to process what had happened. "At least I'm not cold anymore," he deadpanned. Duo laughed again at the small joke. He turned around when he heard footfalls approach them and watched as Gerry walked to the pool carrying two big, rolled up towels. But, he was quickly distracted by Heero pulling himself up out of the water right next to him. His clothes clung to him, the white shirt in particular – the fabric was all but see-through. Muscles moved in a trained manner as he elegantly lifted himself onto the stone edge and rose up. Before accepting one of the towels handed to him, he stripped off the button-up shirt. The American looked away and realized – mortified – that he was blushing. "Duo," Gerry said to get his attention before holding the second towel out to him. "For your feet." "Oh, right. Thanks." He took his feet out of the water and dried them off, focusing on his task so he wouldn't get caught staring at his target. Apparently swimming and playing squash really did wonders for the body… "I'm going to take a shower," Heero announced flatly. "Calvin will take you home." Duo nodded. He had a hard time deciphering if he was mad at him or not. The Japanese man started to walk away, but a few steps removed from his guest, he cocked his head and said to Duo over his shoulder: "It's a good thing you told me you couldn't swim. I would have pulled you in with me otherwise." The conman flashed him a smile. "Look at us: Sharing. Getting to know each other. It's good." "Yes," Heero agreed and he turned his face away before Duo could be sure if the corner of his mouth was curling up in a half smile, or if his eyes were playing tricks on him. "It is good." Only when the billionaire and his butler were out of earshot did he dare release a sigh. It had been a foolish thing to do, but luckily it had worked out in his favor. Mister Fox was spot on: Heero liked knowing that he wasn't afraid of him, that he wasn't going to be submissive. He supposed only a man as rich as Heero Yuy could get dunked into a pool wearing half of a four-thousand-dollar suit and not get pissed off. Duo scrambled to his feet when a guard arrived. He patiently waited with his hands folded in front of him while his master's guest put his socks and shoes back on. Gerry was in the foyer to hand him the envelope with his payment and to send him off. When he was alone in the car with Calvin – the clock on the dashboard reading 23:51 – he casually inquired: "What's your impression of Yuy?" Calvin made eye contact in the rear view mirror – an unassuming expression. "Excuse me, sir?" "What do you think of him? You spend a lot of time around this guy. What's your feel of him?" "Does that matter?" "I don't know. Does it?" He shot back. "Master Yuy is a good employer," Calvin shared, although he was careful not to breach an unspoken confidentially agreement. "He pays well and he doesn't call on me outside of my agreed upon work-hours. That's all I need to know." "Hmm…" Duo considered his answer as he looked out the window. "Sir?" Duo raised his eyebrows and made eye-contact with Calvin's reflection again in the narrow mirror. "He's a good man. If that's all you need to know." The passenger smiled. "Thanks, Calvin." The driver seemed the share the same sentiment as the butler. They all saw their master for something that others didn't see. Duo couldn't decide if they were correct, mistaken or somewhere in between – nothing is black-and-white after all. He was dropped off at home and went straight to bed. He had another strange dream that night, a dream about Heero Yuy. He woke up in a sweat again, but this time also sporting an erection. He knew it wasn't unnatural for his body to respond to Yuy's attractiveness. It didn't have to mean anything more than a physical appreciation, but still, he felt too ashamed to deal with it the way he normally would. Instead, he crawled out of bed at three in the morning to take a cold shower. The billionaire went on a quick business trip to the Silicon Valley so there would be no date until the charity event next weekend. Spending five days without meeting was the longest they had gone in weeks and Duo realized how weird that was. As much as he disliked it, Heero was becoming a part of his life, a part of his routine; as a guy not fond of change, he kind of missed steak night and their weekly game of squash. He had plenty to keep him occupied though. He had to help J.J. gather more intel on Harold Greer for him. You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink, he thought to himself as J.J, came over one afternoon to go over the basics with him. "I don't get why any of this is necessary," J.J. groused. He dropped down in the chair and propped his feet up on the coffee table. "You're going to be in my ear at all times anyway, telling me exactly what to do." "You need some basic understanding of what needs to be done," Duo reminded him again. "You need to be natural, I shouldn't have to whisper every little thing in your ear or you'll be waiting for instructions rather than paying attention and he'll notice. He loves attention, he'll definitely notice if you aren't focused on him." "Oh, please," J.J. scoffed and proudly gestured at himself. "Look at me." Duo admitted that his little brother had cleaned up nicely. His black hair was still long, but trimmed and styled and washed – most importantly. It was glossy and fell around his face attractively. His teeth had been whitened and his lopsided, toothy smile was charming in that boyish way he had about him. His clothes had been upgraded too: fitted jeans and a respectable long-sleeved shirt in a deep shade of forest green. "Henry is going to be all over this." Duo shook his head at him. "Harold. His name is Harold." He shrugged. "Whatever. He's gonna want to break off a piece of this." The braided man couldn't help but snicker at his cockiness. "This is gonna be kinda fun," he mused, "getting to hit on another guy." "You don't necessarily have to hit on him, just draw him in, get him to open to you." He waved his hand dismissively. "I want to; it seems like a hoot." Duo chuckled again. "Any tips?" He inquired with a wink. "Not about that." "Why not? You 'get around', don't you?" Duo grabbed one of the pillows from the couch and threw it at the other. "Don't make me sound like a whore. I have… 'my needs fulfilled' from time to time, yeah. But I'm not going to share with you how I hit on guys at the club. How I get in someone's pants is none of your business and completely irrelevant to the task ahead of you. You don't need tricks to get into Harold's pants; you need tricks to get into his head." "Well, then how did you hit on WuFei? You got into his head, right?" J.J. teased, unaware of how insensitive he was being; Duo tensed and his jaw clenched up. "I mean, you're the only guy he has seriously been with, right? He's basically straight. How did you do that?" "It was nothing I did," Duo groused. "I didn't flick a switch and fool him into getting involved with me. We were genuinely attracted to each other." "Woah, dude." He raised his hands in defense. "Whatever man." "Yeah, whatever…" He ran a hand through his bangs and took a moment to cool himself down before reaching for a notebook Neil had given to him. Jotted down on the pages were the man's observations as he tailed Harold for a while. He had read through them since didn't trust J.J. to read the whole thing as well. For starters he wanted to go through it with him and point out anything that could potentially be of help. "These are Neil's notes. It's not much, it's very boring, but that in itself is a clue. Harold likes routine. He's a locomotive – always on schedule, always keeps going. He's going to appreciate that in someone else as well. So, I want you to arrive at the gym precisely at six thirty. Wear a watch-" "I don't have a watch," the youngster interrupted. "Neil will get you one. No matter what happens, even if Harold is talking to you, you head for the showers at seven thirty and-" "Wait, how long do you think this is going to take, like, how many days? Cuz I'm not a morning person and I'm not a work-out person either." Duo glared at him. Hanging onto the last shreds of patience, he replied: "I don't know. Probably a couple of days. I don't expect him to pay you any attention at all in the beginning. Anyway, you do the same routine every morning, just like Harold. You start with a ten-minute warm-up on the treadmill – keep the pace slow or you'll kill yourself – then twenty minutes on the elliptical, and twenty minutes on the bike. Harold does the same thing except for the bike; he does squats, lunges and weights, but the home trainers are right by the freeform area so you'll be near him without doing the exact same thing – that would be too suspicious. Try to do some weightlifting in-between." "Ugh," J.J. sighed dramatically. "I'm already exhausted just thinking about it." "If anyone asks, say you have been recovering from an operation, that'll explain why your endurance is shit." "Can't I just tell them to mind their own business? I'm only there for Harold anyway." "You can't tell people off, J.J. You need to be approachable. However," he stressed, "never show much interest in any of them except Harold. He'll take notice and feel special." J.J. sighed again and as Duo continued he was unable to maintain his focus. He reached for the copy of Forbes that Duo still kept and started leafing through it, unaware of his big brother's worsening temper. "J.J.!" Duo reached out and snatched the magazine from his hands. "Are you fucking listening to me?" "No! This is bullshit, Duo! I'm not like you! I'm sure everything will be fine. I'll see what happens." "Everything will be fine?!" Duo challenged, losing himself to his rage. "Fine?! You have a chance to prove your worth and you want to slack off and just see what'll happen?" J.J. shrugged which infuriated him further. "That's what you always do and that's why you always fuck up, J.J!" At that point he was screaming at him and rose out of his seat. J.J. was unimpressed; he had been on the receiving end of Duo's wrath before and it never made a difference. "I'm involved in this entire mess to save you and you can't even be bothered to pay attention for ten minutes to help us out! How is that even possible? You are so selfish, J.J. – so selfish! All you care about is yourself, yet even you don't care enough to try and help save yourself?" He was running out of breath but he ranted on: "Did you forget what's on the line? What's going to happen to us if you fuck this up?!" "Maybe you're the one who will fuck it up," he retaliated. Duo scoffed. "Well, that would be a first, wouldn't it? All I've ever done was clean up your messes!" "Oh, sure, you're Mister Perfect," J.J. bit, getting up from his seat as well and flinging his arms around. "Just because I'll never be a mind reader like you doesn't mean I'm worthless, Duo! All my life you've let me know that I'll never be good enough, that I'm nothing without you-" "That's not true! I've given you every chance and you've blown it very time! You got in bed with fucking Tsubarov of all people! But you shat in that bed and now I'm the one getting my hands dirty changing the sheets!" "He chose me! He recruited me!" He boasted. "Because I am good enough for him." Duo squinted his eyes at his naiveté. "Oh, really? Tsubarov is 'the man', huh? He makes you feel like you're worth something?" "He wanted me to come work for him." "And one mistake later he threatens to kill you!" J.J. put his hands on his hips, unable to think of anything to say. "One mistake and I help you. Two mistakes and I help you. Thousands of mistakes and I still help you, you ungrateful asshole." "You're only helping me to pay off your guilt! This is all about A.J. – I'm not stupid." Duo's heart sank. "I promised A.J. that I would keep you safe. I promised him I would always be there for you. Loving you like you are my own baby brother was not part of the promise, but I do J.J., I do. Not out of loyalty to A.J. but because you are my brother." "Then, for once, just trust me. Trust me like a brother," he pleaded. "Trust me when I say I can do this, my own way." He chewed on the inside of his cheek. He didn't trust J.J., and he had good reason not to, but he couldn't tell him that. He weighed the pros and cons and decided that unraveling Harold was not a make-or-break part of the mission; he decided to risk losing the opportunity to use the assistant to get him even closer to Yuy. "Okay. Okay, I trust you." "Thank you." Without saying anything else, J.J. promptly left the apartment and Duo was left standing there, out of breath and with a racing heartbeat. It was the worst possible time ever to take any risks. J.J. might be able to minimalize what was at stake, but it was constantly on Duo's mind, casting a dark shadow over everything. All he had left to do was pray that he didn't make a huge mistake by sparing J.J.'s misguided ego.
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