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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 16 Once Duo got over his own nervousness, the gala was a dull affair. He separated from Heero's side because he couldn't stand listening to people suck up to the businessman for much longer. It was apparent few of the attendees were genuinely supportive of the cause of the night; instead, they used the social gathering as a networking opportunity, and to look their most gracious and most generous as they posed for the handful of photographers that was allowed entry. Duo knew he had to steer clear of those photographers as much as possible anyway, so staying in Heero's vicinity - with him being the man of the hour - was a bad idea. To entertain himself, he started playing skits with anyone who came up to introduce themselves, mistaking him for someone of importance. He offered a different, increasingly ridiculous name every time and tried various accents with mixed success. He enjoyed the odd and confused looks he was getting. People were clearly catching on that he was lying to them, yet no one dared to call him out on his fantastical tales because they had seen him come in with Heero Yuy. That was always their opener too, with which they approached him. "I saw you come in with Heero Yuy..." They all wanted to use him as a means to get closer to the businessman and his envied pocket book. Stringing them along was funny at first, while he snatched h'ordeuvres off silver plates carried around by waiters that all looked a little too much alike. He slipped secret insider information into the conversation, pretending to be giving them tips on how to get closer to Heero. He didn't know if anyone actually tried to strike up a conversation with the billionaire later in the evening about his supposed favorite musical, his prized pet turtles, or his vacation to Narnia - a "tropical island off the coast of Frans-Guyana"; Duo knew that the trick to selling a lie was to mix it with a truth that sounded like a lie, but would prove to be true, thereby making whatever poor schmuck he was tricking doubt his own ability at catching a lie, and take the rest of it at face-value. It wasn't funny anymore after a while. It made him sad; it made him pity Heero. He was doing such a beautiful thing - organizing a night to raise money for sick children, and doubling the charitable donations with his own money - but it was tainted by the ulterior motives of the guests. Sure, not all of them were superficial assholes looking to score Heero's info for their rolodex; but it was disheartening how many of them were only there to drink expensive champagne, and brush elbows with the modern "aristocrats" of the world. Duo sauntered off to the bar to have his first drink of the evening. He had intended to stay sharp and observant, and not cloud his senses with alcohol, but he needed something to take the edge off, or he worried he would either fling himself or someone else off the terrace. He was halfway through his whiskey tonic when someone slipped into the empty stool next to his, and flagged down the bartender to order a fancy drink before addressing the longhaired American. "Hi," he reached out his hand and Duo shook it. "I saw you come in with Mister Yuy." Duo was proud of himself for not rolling his eyes. "My name is David Millie, I'm an associate at Breckenridge and Birch." Heero's New York based law firm, Duo's mind supplied. He noted that David didn't inquire about his name, and his lack of pretense was actually refreshing. "I saw you this afternoon as well. In the firm's parking garage." "Hmhm." Duo took a drink. "Are you a business partner of Yuy's? Are you involved in the Steffen and Abney deal?" "If I was, don't you think you would have seen me at the meeting and not just in the parking garage?" Duo smartly replied. David nodded. "Alright." "Sorry," Duo smirked, "I can't get you a seat at the adults' table." The junior lawyer blinked innocently. "I wasn't-" "If they want you to do more than file paperwork and run errands, they'll make that happen. You're not an untapped resource they are wasting." David narrowed his eyes at the offensive jab; he was hit right in the sore spot of his ego. "Who are you, exactly?" Over the night, Duo had been many different people, or many different professions. Heero did say he was free to introduce himself as whatever he felt comfortable with. For the first time, he didn't lie and he replied glibly: "I'm hired company." "You're a gigolo..." Duo chuckled - it was a funny word! "I'm a whore," he corrected. As of that day, he felt that was the truth. Mistakenly thinking he had been lied to because Duo was so cool about it, David shook his head, called him crazy, and then walked away. It was time for the balloons to be released and everyone was invited to step out onto the terrace. Only about half of the people actually went outside - for most, it was too cold since the sun had set - but that was for the better, and all part of the plan, because not everyone would have fit on the rooftop terrace anyway. Duo, for one, didn't want to miss it; with childlike excitement, he hurried to get a good spot: right at the bannister. Enormous floodlights had been placed in the park; beams of light pointing up. Duo's heart was racing. He felt giddy. Everyone's head turned when someone tapped an appetizer fork against a glass of wine. Duo watched intently. Heero thanked the man for getting everyone's attention and raised his own champagne glass in a halfhearted toast. His delivery was wooden, and hinted at a discomfort and shyness: "Thank you all for coming tonight and for your generous donations to the Y-Charity Foundation." Everyone raised their glasses. "This year we raised money to financially support pediatric cancer patients of lower- to middle-class families who would have otherwise not been able to finance the treatment for their child. I am proud to announce that - thanks to all of you, and the other donors who are not in attendance tonight - we have been able to make 42.34 million dollars available for the treatment of 2,288 cancer patients under the age of eighteen - 49 of which are currently at Mount Sinai's Kravis Children's Hospital - each represented by one of the balloons that we are about to see released." Duo shook his head at the detached phrasing, knowing that Heero cared more than he let on, and how the billionaire didn't boast about the fact that the donors were only responsible for half of the amount of money raised - the rest had come out of Yuy's own pocket. "I want to express my sincerest gratitude to each and every one of you, for making this another successful annual charity event. And, uh-" Duo smiled as the man lost track of his rehearsed speech and didn't know how to continue. It was disarming. Heero pointed his glass out to the park and simply announced: "Let's take a look." Everyone's head turned again and they all fixed their gazes on the tennis courts. Mere seconds after Heero had finished his speech, the net was pulled apart and the balloons poured out of the open seam and drifted up. The pastel swarm was perfectly illuminated by the floodlights, and by luck alone, there was little wind; the vertical column only tilted slightly to the left and the balloons didn't start to scatter until they were high up in the sky until they disappeared into the darkness of the night. The crowd clapped - excited but subdued. It was all very proper and controlled, and Duo didn't like it one bit, so he cupped his hands around his mouth and cheered loudly, like a fan at a football match after touchdown. "Wooohooo! Yeah! Yeehah!" New York's rich and famous gawked at him but he didn't mind. He lowered his hands back down to his sides, and when he turned his head to the left, his gaze met Heero's; he saw a tiny, bemused smile before the businessman forced his expression into something indifferent, and was crowded by people wanting to congratulate him. Seeing as Heero would be occupied for a while to come - since everyone wanted to have their pictures taken with him again after the pinnacle of the event - Duo returned to the bar to have his second drink, but requested it be more tonic than whiskey that time around. He was alone long enough for him to finish his drink and spend a good amount of time contemplating if he should order a third, with more whiskey again. But then, Heero joined him at the bar, standing closer to the conman than he was used to. Duo smiled at him, unabashedly relieved to have him in his company again, but Heero didn't even look at him; he tapped his finger on the glass bar, and the bartender rushed to prepare his drink without even needing to be told what he wanted - clearly, he had received prior instructions on "Mister Yuy's" wishes. As per usual, Heero didn't thank the man when he was handed his glass. He took a sip and finally faced Duo, with something mirthful in his blue eyes. "I've had three people come up to me tonight to tell me 'Mama Mia!' is their favorite musical too." Duo nearly choked on a laugh. "So I have you to thank for that?" Heero's tone was so serious that Duo started to worry that his joking around was not received well. "... Sorry." "It's fine. It was a relief to talk about something else for a change." Heero took a sip to hide his smirk. "I did like 'Mama Mia!', but I wouldn't say it's my favorite." Duo laughed again, more freely. "You like musicals, huh?" "I prefer them to baseball." The American frowned, not understanding what Heero meant; Heero explained, "When I do business in New York, people always give me tickets to win me over. It's either Broadway or the Yankees. I find baseball incredibly dull." "I wouldn't let anyone hear you say that, although," Duo looked around the posh crowd, "this is probably a safe space." He chuckled, remembering the hat he had given Heero earlier that day. "So I guess my gift from this afternoon wasn't a success?" "I don't wear hats. I wouldn't have wear a 'Mama Mia!' hat either," Heero stated dryly. "Did anyone ask you about your turtles?" "No." "Man, that's too bad. I thought that was the best one." Heero finished his drink and the bartender came to give him another one, but he declined with a wave of his hand. "Have you been spreading lies about me all evening?" "Kinda?" Duo offered his best puppy-dog look. "What about yourself? Have you been lying about yourself too?" Duo shrugged. "I told some associate from your law firm that I'm a whore, but he thought I was messing with him. David Millie?" Heero shook his head as the name didn't ring any bells. "I don't work with the associates; my business is handled by the senior partners." Duo looked around himself, hoping to spot Millie so he could point him out to Heero, but he wasn't within sight. He described the man's slicked back hair and bulbous nose. "Oh, I think Birch had him get us coffee." Duo snorted a laugh. "I'm sure he's not an incompetent associate. There is just a strict hierarchy at the law firm, and sometimes it is enforced petulantly." "Well, I don't care. He was an ass. Actually," Duo straightened up in his seat as he got more serious, "everyone has been an ass to me tonight." Heero seemed disturbed and upset at the news; Duo explained: "I mean-... No, not like they were rude to me or anything. Everyone is so fucking polite, but that's part of what makes them an ass. All they are concerned with is appearances, and making friends in the right places. I wasn't a person to them; I was an instrument. The stupid thing is: I'm used to that because it's like that where I'm from too, but at least everyone back home is honest about everything being a means to an end, and not raining false niceties on someone. All these fucking people telling me they 'like my hair'..." he grumbled. "Maybe they just really like your hair. I do." Duo blinked at him, completely caught off guard. Heero's expression was blank and his eyes were unreadable. "Seriously?" "When someone compliments you, you can just say 'thank you'." The conman quirked an eyebrow at him and fired back: "When someone hands you a drink you can just say 'thank you'." Heero cast a glance at the bartender he hadn't exchanged a single word with. "It's his job. I don't need to thank him for doing his job." "Well someday, someone is going to spit in your drink...if they haven't already." He chuckled as Heero's eyebrow twitched at the possibility. "But... Thank you." He flashed him a sincere smile; Heero nodded. "This is the part where you say "you're welcome"." "You're welcome." Duo grinned and patted him on the top of his head. "Atta boy." Heero's eyes widened slightly in shock, but his features gave Duo nothing else to work with. The night continued. The photographers had been excused and sent back to their employers so the Sunday papers could include their snaps. The crowd was starting to dissipate. Duo felt most comfortable staying close to Heero. After his lies had basted in the room all day, people had caught on what he was up to, and no one wanted to talk with him anymore. When someone subtly brought it to Heero's attention that his partner for the evening had been spreading lies about the businessman and himself - even mentioning how he pretended to be a "gigolo" - and inquired who Duo really was, Heero replied with the flattest tone ever: "He's an alcoholic compulsive liar that I helped escape from rehab." Duo didn't remember when he last laughed that hard. In a quiet moment near the end of the evening, Duo leaned in close and wondered sincerely: "Aren't you worried? These people are going to think you are as crazy as I am." "It doesn't matter to me what they think," the billionaire answered coolly, "and it doesn't matter to them either. They'll be back the next time they're invited anyway." Duo nodded. These people didn't care about Heero - they didn't care that he was actually a nice and interesting person, so why would they care if he turned out crazy? They were only here for their own benefit. Heero was not a person to them; he was an opportunity. That was the moment Duo realized that they were all conmen, just like him. The wry part of it was that, while Heero could see the falseness in them, he would be blindsided by Duo's inevitable betrayal. Heero made the mistake of trusting him, of letting him get close, when he had no one else. Duo had never felt worse about himself. He was no better than the people he spent the entirety of the evening resenting and mocking - no, he was worse than any of them. He went to the bar for another whiskey, no tonic. The night came to a merciful end when Heero came to collect him after saying goodbye to a few of the guests. Duo had been worried they were obliged to stay until everyone else had gone, considering the billionaire was the host, but that was not the case. The chopper flew them back to the Y-Tower; Duo didn't like the idea of being alone in his assigned room, so he invited himself into the penthouse, and was met with no resistance. He gravitated towards the windows, admiring the chrome of the Chrysler Building, and choppers flying back and forth in the distance - moving lights like dancing stars. "Did you have a good time?" Heero asked. "No." For once, the truth just slipped out. "My apologies. Is there anything I should have done differently?" Duo threw a sympathetic look over his shoulder. "It wasn't anything you did." "I suppose you prefer to not be invited to these kinds of events again in the future?" Rather than answering, Duo turned around and leaned against the glass pane and asked: "Did you have a good time?" "Better than usual." A smile appeared on Duo's lips without his permission. "Because of me?" He already knew the answer. "Yes," Heero stated flatly. Duo nodded. "In that case, I would like to be invited again next time." Heero frowned. "But you didn't have a good time." "You had a better time; that's enough for me." "I know I'm paying you for your company, but I do not intend to knowingly subject you to a bad time." Duo snorted; he was about to argue that Heero always dragged him into whatever suited the billionaire best or was on his schedule...but then he realized that whenever Heero had brought him along to something he didn't like - like that restaurant where they had lunch - and Duo made clear he didn't enjoy it, he didn't bring him a second time. They didn't go back to such restaurants; instead, Heero had treated him to fast food. "That's very kind," Duo eventually said, "but why? You're paying me. It's my 'job'. Isn't it the same as not saying 'thank you' to a bartender, because it's his job anyway?" "But I don't care if a bartender has a nice time or not, or if he likes me or not." The conman paused at the implication. "But you do care whether I like you or not?" Heero's face hardened, which Duo knew meant he was hiding insecurities and vulnerabilities. "Yes." "Do you want me to like you?" "I would prefer it." Heero tilted his head up, faking an aloof kind of confidence that he lacked - if only to the trained eye. "I'm trying to... not be... off-putting." He pursed his lips. "I'm trying to be likeable." Duo let out a breathy chuckle. "You don't have to try. You are likable," he said, and wished it was a lie. "I kissed you, didn't I?" "Yes. You did." "Well, I did that because I do like you. And I meant what I said this afternoon. I'd like to get to know you better." "I think you know more about me than I know about you." That was true. Duo didn't know him well enough yet - he didn't know what he needed to know - but to get closer, a little give and take was in order. "Would you like to get to know me better?" "Yes." Duo smirked and a thought popped up in his head. "Alright. Let's go out." Heero physically reeled back a step. "We were just out." "No, that wasn't 'going out'," Duo wagged his finger at him and enjoyed his open, confused expression - too caught off guard to even think to hide his emotions. "I'll show you 'going out'." He looked them both up and down and then concluded that a change of clothes was in order. "Do you have a pair of jeans and a shirt or something?" "Jeans?" Duo laughed heartedly at the incredulous reaction. "Do you have any pants that aren't part of a suit?" Heero looked off to the side in thought. "I have sweatpants for my work outs." "Great. Put one of those on-" "For 'going out'?" The wealthy man looked at him like he had suggested something insane. "You want me to wear sweatpants out?" Duo grinned. "Yup. Go get dressed in whatever is so casual that you feel uncomfortable. I'm gonna head downstairs and change as well. I'll be back in five." He pointed a finger at him in warning: "No slacks." The American went downstairs, giggling to himself and ignoring the look the bodyguard stationed in the hallway was giving him. He got dressed in the clothing he wore when they flew out to New York, since the clothes Heero bought him during the shopping spree weren't a good fit for what he had in mind. Once he was changed back into his 'normal' clothes and he looked like the Duo he remembered, he hurried back upstairs. He waited for Heero in the living room area of the penthouse, but he didn't have to wait long. A smile spread across his lips when Heero came down from the bedroom up in the mezzanine. He wore navy blue sweatpants - that looked and fitted as fancy and elegant as sweatpants possibly could - a white shirt and a grey hoodie. With a crook of his finger, Duo directed Heero to come stand in front of him and - without warning - he reached up and tousled his hair. He kept messing with it until the meticulously styled, brushed back look was gone, and his hair wildly fell in front of his face in long, boyish bangs, much like Duo's. He proudly stared at his handiwork and felt his heart skip a beat at how different the man looked. He didn't ponder it too much; he snatched the baseball cap off the kitchen counter where Heero had put it, and he placed it onto his head, angling the visor down so most of his face would be hidden in shadows. "Finishing touch." Heero adjusted the cap, only to have Duo pull it down again. "Why?" "Just in case someone might recognize you otherwise." Heero wasn't exactly a celebrity, but he was on the cover of Forbes a while back, so a few people might know his face. "I don't want anyone bothering us." "I have bodyguards to stop people from bothering me." "They're not coming." Even when hidden by the visor and the bangs, Duo could still see the surprised expression in Heero's eyes. "What do you mean?" "We're not going out with your fucking platoon around us." "I never-... It's not safe." Duo's heart clenched at the genuine fear he could discern in his voice. "It'll be okay. No one will recognize you, okay? Not at the kind of place we're going." Heero looked hesitant. "Do you trust me?" It was such a loaded question. Heero thought for a minute and then he decided: "Yes." Duo was torn between happiness, pride and guilt. He shook his head at himself and guided Heero to the elevator. "Let's go." They took the elevator down to the midway lobby where they transferred to the second elevator. One of Heero's guard was stationed there, and he quirked an eyebrow at his employer's odd attire. "Sir, are you going somewhere?" He started towards them as they waited for the elevator. "Ditch him," Duo whispered in Heero's ear. The elevator arrived and he dragged Heero inside. The guard rushed his steps to join them, but he halted when Heero said: "I'm just going down to admin. Karachi called." He tapped his watch. "I'll be back in a minute." Duo snorted and pressed the close button for the doors, since it was taking too long. He looked up and saw the guard nod before the doors closed on him. The guard downstairs in the lobby didn't give them any grief - he even held the door open for them. Outside Duo confidently stepped out into the streets to flag down a cab, and he ushered Heero into the car. "Where to, guys?" The cabbie asked in a classic New York accent. Duo scooted forward and leaned close to the opening in the acrylic pane; he smelled cigar smoke overpowering a pine air refresher. "Know any good dive bars?" The driver quirked a gray, bushy eyebrow in the rearview mirror. "Isn't that a contradictory question? I can take you to a good bar, or I can take you to a dive bar. Take your pick." "Dive bar." "What's a dive bar?" Heero questioned. Before Duo could sugar coat it, the driver replied: "A shithole." "Come on, don't be such a Grinch; you know they're fun." Duo sat back in his seat and fastened his seatbelt just as the car tore away. "I guess if you're drunk enough," the cabbie conceded with a shrug. "We will be," Duo asserted and flashed Heero a grin. "So where are you guys from? Obviously not from around here." Duo laughed. "I guess his cap gave it away?" Heero furrowed his brows. "Why? The hat literally says NY." The man at the wheel let out a gargling chuckle and coughed once before saying: "Those things are for tourists." "I come here all the time," Heero said in defense of himself. "I've lived here for years." "Doesn't make a New Yorker, young man." The driver turned his focus to the surrounding traffic. Duo laughed again and patted Heero's shoulder. With a quiet voice he inquired: "So what was the signal about?" Heero tensed up but tried innocently: "Excuse me?" The conman grinned at him. "The signal you gave the guard upstairs. When you said you'd be back in a minute, you tapped your watch." Heero's jaw dropped open but he was quick to shut his mouth. "... You are very observant." "I see everything," Duo disclosed, practically purring the words. "Now tell me what the signal was for." Heero shot a surreptitious look at the driver, before giving his hushed reply. "I have a tracker in all of my watches. My bodyguards will be trailing us. Inconspicuously. You won't even know they're there." Duo chuckled. "I doubt that." "Because you see everything?" "Hmhm." "Want to make a bet?" The American's eyes widened at the cheeky suggestion. "Hell yeah." A small, smug smirk tugged at the corner of Heero's mouth but he kept it under control. "Three of them will follow us into the bar. If you can identify all three of them," he stressed, "you win. But if you miss even one of the guards, you lose." "Miss even one and I lose? Isn't that unfair?" Duo pouted for effect, but he was confident he could spot all of the guards without much trouble. "Well, you are claiming to see everything," Heero baited. "Deal." He extended his hand so they could formally shake on it. "Now, what do I get when I win?" "If," Heero corrected. A devilish smirk appeared on Duo's lips. "Cute." "If you win, you get..." the man paused in thought, trying to come up with a suitable reward. "If I win, I get to ask you twenty questions and you have to answer every one honestly," Duo suggested. Heero was a little taken aback. "Why twenty?" Duo rolled his eyes. "The game? Twenty questions?" The man looked no less confused. The driver chimed in, incredulous: "You don't know the game twenty questions?" "I don't." "Doesn't matter," Duo hurried to say - it didn't. "And if I lose, you get to be the one asking the questions." Heero hesitated. "Come on. We did agree we wanted to get to know each other better, right?" He winked at him. "Alright. Deal." Pleased with the bet they had agreed on, Duo was looking forward to playing the game. They arrived in front of a bar shortly afterward. Duo didn't have any cash; he offhandedly asked for Heero's wallet and was promptly given it. It was the kind of sign of trust that he needed - it was effortless too. He paid the cabbie, giving him a big tip, and thanked him for the ride. As always, Heero didn't say thanks. They climbed out of the car and hurried across the sidewalk as rain started to pour down. The bar was exactly what Duo had in mind. It was a lived-in sports bar, with nothing special about it. The bar was to the right of the front door, with mismatched barstools - the original ones had probably gotten smashed in drunken brawls over the years. To the left there were a couple of brown, leather booths, the seats and backrests patched in a few places. There were crushed peanut peels on the floor and the shoes of Duo's soles got sticky as he walked through a day's worth of uncleaned beer-spills. The front of the space was rather narrow, but it got wider in the back, where there was room for standing tables, two pool tables and three dartboards by the emergency exit, and the restrooms in the back. It was busy, but not too busy. There were two seats available for them at the bar and they were quick to take them. The patrons were loud and rowdy. There was a TV in every corner; an after-play analysis of a basketball game was on, and the commenters remarks on the losing team had many of the drunken men up in arms. The bartender appeared in front of them, looking flustered as people called for him left and right. "What can I getcha?" "Beer," Duo said. "A Boulevardier." Both Duo and the bartender looked at Heero. The bartender spoke up: "Are you fucking serious?" "Just order a beer," Duo encouraged. "I don't drink beer. I'd like a Boulevardier. He should know how to make one; it's not difficult." Duo nearly facepalmed. "Of course I know how to make one," the bartender shot back, understandably irritated, "but it's kinda busy right now and who the fuck orders a Boulevardier anyway?" Heero didn't budge. The bartender sighed and muttered something under his breath before getting to work on fixing their drinks. He tapped Duo's beer first and put the glass in front of him before facing the back wall to mix Heero's Boulevardier. The conman watched him closely and noticed the telltale dip of his head before he stirred the drink and added ice. Duo nearly choked on his beer as he failed to contain a laugh. The bartender turned back to them and handed Heero his drink. "Sorry, I didn't have a garnish for ya." "This will do," Heero said. Duo recognized that he meant no ill, but he was getting under the bartender's skin and Duo could sympathize. "Whatever, order a fucking beer next time." At the clamoring of other patrons at the bar, he left them alone to tap more watery beers. The Japanese man took hold of his drink and brought it to his mouth, but Duo reached out and covered the top of the glass with his hand, and pushed it back down onto the cork coaster. "Don't drink that," he said and couldn't help but let a chuckle escape. "Why not?" "He spat in it." Heero looked disturbed. "How do you know?" "I just do. I see everything, remember? Besides, you totally deserved it." He made sure the bartender wasn't looking their way, then he leaned over the bar and quickly poured Heero's drink into the sink, and put the empty glass back on the coaster in front of him. "Why did I deserve it? He's a bartender. I asked him to mix me a drink." "It's his job, I know," Duo interjected. "But you were being a dick." "I didn't mean to." There was something forlorn about his tone that made Duo pat and squeeze his shoulder, and assure him it was fine. When the bartender returned, he looked pretty pleased, thinking his annoying guest had downed his drink. "Can I get you another drink?" Duo finished his beer. "Two of these, please." "Yes, thank you," Heero added, sounding robotic. The bartender nodded and tapped them beers. He didn't spit in either of them, maybe only because he had no excuse to turn his back to them and hide what he was doing, or maybe because he had moved past it. All the while, Duo's gaze darted to the door whenever it opened and new people came into the bar. The first guard he spotted a mere two minutes after Duo and Heero came inside. His disguise was half-assed and obvious because he must have been in a hurry to get inside to get a visual on his employer. He wore an unassuming, plaid shirt, but it was paired with black, tailored slacks and shiny shoes. The big man took a seat at the other end of the bar and positioned himself so, when looking at the nearest television set mounted on the wall, he could watch Duo and Heero from the corner of his eyes. The others he spotted easily enough as well. Little things gave them away - one of them wore the same shiny shoes, for example. Another Heero accidentally made eye-contact with, and Duo saw the recognition flicker in his eyes before his body tensed up nearly imperceptibly as he tried to hide it in order to win the bet. Duo wasn't in any hurry to point them out. He finished his second beer and pestered Heero into chugging his - the billionaire only managed to down half before he had to stop. He tapped the visor of Heero's cap and quietly reminded him that a New York sports bar would not be the right place to casually mention that he thought the Yankees were boring. "Have you identified my protection detail yet?" Heero took another sip of his beer, even though it was obvious he did not appreciate the bitter taste. Duo smirked. He reckoned enough time had passed, and he was ready to impress the man with just how observant he really was. "I have." "All of them?" Heero mirrored his smirk. "Hmhm." He made Heero wait while he ordered another round for the both of them, disregarding Heero's objections. Then, he turned in his seat and pointedly looked at the man in the plaid shirt at the far end of the bar, snacking on peanuts and supposedly enthralled by the game recap on TV. "Mister Lumberjack in the Tom Ford slacks is number one." Heero nodded, although the conman really didn't need him to confirm anything. "The guy in the back, strategically placed by the rear exit, playing darts by himself is number two." Some of Heero's smugness faded, but he was still confident Duo would miss one of the bodyguards. "Number three is..." Duo craned his neck to see where he had relocated to after he had first spotted him. "Oh, there he is, looks like he bought his way into a game of pool." "Correct." Something mischievous sparkled in Heero's blue eyes, not even the shadow of his cap could dull it. Duo grinned. "And lest I forget: number four is sitting two seats to your right." The billionaire blinked at him. "That's right, sneaky little bastard." "How could you have possibly known that?" Heero blurted. "Well, with how you were emphasizing that there would be three of them when you made the bet with me, and then you didn't just say I had to identify all three of them, but also said I couldn't even miss one. With that caveat, I knew there'd be more than three and that you were trying to fool me." He smiled when he succeeded in making Heero's jaw drop for the second time that evening. "I didn't notice number four on his way in, but that guy specifically ordered a bottle of beer, as opposed to beer from the tap, and he has been 'sipping' from that bottle for the past-" he checked the clock on the wall, "- twelve minutes and it's still as full as when he started. I take it they aren't allowed to drink on the job?" The billionaire was as confused as he was impressed, like he had just been shown a magic trick that he couldn't figure out. "You have an incredible eye for detail." Duo shrugged and started on his third beer. "That's how I make my way through the world - how I stay safe." Heero finished his beer and made a face at the last gulp. "How did you learn to do that?" "By living a certain kind of life. Darwin called it, you know? Evolution. We all adapt to survive." He pensively traced his finger along the rim of his glass. "It helps me distinguish between the good Johns and the bad Johns." Heero cast his gaze down. He took a moment to absorb the reminder that Duo was a whore and then asked: "How does it work? How do you do it?" Duo shook his head and smiled at him playfully. "Nono, mister. You lost. I'm the one who gets to ask the questions." "Right. Go ahead." "Nuh uh. First you finish that second beer." He pushed the glass closer towards him. "The deal included honesty," he said, hoping to get out of having to drink the brew. "Well, maybe I don't think I should take your word for it. Not only did you try to trick me, you also lied to me." "What do you mean?" "You told me that you trusted me, but still you gave your bodyguard a signal to have them trail us." Heero sat back. He took a moment to gather his thoughts and then said with apologetic tone: "I didn't lie. I do trust you. I just don't trust the rest of New York." The American chuckled. "Touché. Still though, bottoms up. Come on." "Why?" He practically whined. "It'll be more fun that way. You're not a pussy, you can chug that beer like a man," he cajoled. Heero took the bait and he gulped down the beer, needing two brief stops in between to catch his breath and make faces at the taste to show his displeasure. "Satisfied?" He inquired with strained voice once he had finished. Duo nodded and started: "What color are your eyes?" Heero blinked and a surprised little laugh escaped him, almost like a cough. "What? Do you need a base-line reading, like a lie-detector test?" He didn't, but he knew he couldn't ask the serious questions right away; he had to gradually amp it up or else he'd just be met with resistance, even though Heero was already somewhat inebriated from his two beers and the drinks he had at the gala. Duo also knew that he couldn't ask all of the questions that he wanted answered because that would backfire. "No. Just answer." "What a waste of a question," Heero chastised. "Answer," Duo pressed lightly. "Prussian." Duo snorted and hid his grin behind his drink. At Heero's raised eyebrow, he explained: "That question, with that answer, actually tells me more about you than you realize. It's nothing I didn't know already, but it's funny how such a simple thing can lift the tip of the veil." "What do you mean?" "Most people - with the same color eyes, that is - would have said 'blue'." Heero scoffed but Duo didn't let it stop him. "But you were specific. You're a perfectionist, detail-oriented and - judging by that little scoff you made - you have no patience for people who aren't." Heero froze at how on the nose his analysis was. "Also, 'prussian' is very telling. Even someone with an eye for detail, like you and like myself, would probably call your eyes cobalt blue. As an art-connoisseur and someone who probably paints too - am I right?" The way Heero swallowed answered his question. "You're very particular about colors, hence 'prussian'." "How do you do that? You can't possibly know all this based on a single word." Duo nodded. "I can't. It's basically just fancy guesswork and then I read body language to measure how hot or how cold my guesses are, then I narrow it down from there." He smiled at Heero's confusion. "You wanted to know how it works. This is how it works." It was a risk explaining that to his target, but Duo felt that by convincing Heero that it'd be impossible to keep secrets from him in the long run, it would make him open up more since there'd be no point in trying to hide information. "Why are you telling me this? You told me I didn't get to ask the questions." "You don't, but at the end of the day, I want us to get to know each other better. So I'm giving you a taste of the mystery that is Duo Maxwell." "Generous," Heero uttered. Duo chuckled at his sarcasm; the alcohol was having effect. "What's your favorite holiday?" Heero seemed reluctant to answer, given how much information Duo could glean from even the most innocuous reply, but as Duo predicted, he realized it was futile to try and hide things from him. "Christmas." Duo scoffed at the standard answer. He wasn't expecting that, considering Heero openly admitted to not having friends or family. "Why?" "Because I like eggnog." "But you could have eggnog every day of the year if you wanted." Heero frowned. "Of course not. Eggnog is seasonal. It doesn't make any sense to drink it outside of the holiday season." Duo laughed at his stunted logic. Heero and his propriety. "Are you kidding me?" "No. And that was question number four, by the way." Duo gasped. Heero was right, technically. "You're a sly little fox, aren't you?" "Sometimes I need to be. And: Five." Duo contained his smirk and instead feigned an embarrassed laugh. He had phrased his joke as a question on purpose, pretending to make a mistake to boost Heero's confidence so he would lower his guard. It wasn't a wasted question. He upped the ante, and used his next five questions to get Heero to admit that he found him attractive, that he liked their kiss and that he would like to be kissed again. The billionaire was struggling to remain stoic; his cheeks flushed with a subtle hint of red. It was endearing how he was totally out of his element during the personal turn of the conversation; if the alcohol wouldn't keep him honest, then his social inaptitude would. Heero simply didn't know how to lie about his feelings because he barely understood them. Duo didn't need Heero to tell him any of this; as a "mind-reader", he already knew that Heero was interested in him, but the questions were aimed to bring it to Heero's attention as well, and get him to own up to it. "Want another beer?" Duo inwardly cursed. Now that was an honest waste of a question! He was probably getting a little tipsy as well. "That's eleven," Heero pointed out. "No, I don't want another beer. I want another drink." Rather than stupidly ask him what he wanted, Duo flagged down the bartender and ordered two shots of tequila. Heero glared at the tiny glass that was put in front of him, some of the liquid spilling onto the bar. His eyes were unfocused though. "Come on." Duo raised his shot glass in a toast. "Bottoms up." The Japanese man was not willing to back down from a challenge and downed his drink at the same time as Duo. His face scrunched up at the strong taste and the burn in his throat. Duo laughed. "Sorry. I guess you would have liked it better with a chaser." "Twelve," Heero said. The American shook his head. "That wasn't a question." "Shit." He is definitely getting drunk, Duo thought to himself. "Okay, twelve: who have you told that you are gay?" Heero shrugged. "A lot of people know that I'm gay. I don't hide it." "I didn't ask how many people know, Heero," he clarified, "I asked who you personally came out to." "Oh, alright." He paused in thought. "Three people." "I didn't ask how many, Heero. Who?" He grinned. "My father, Gerry and my therapist." "Your therapist?" Heero smirked sloppily. "Thirteen." Dammit. No more shots for me. "Yes, my therapist." "Why are you seeing a shrink?" Heero squirmed uncomfortably. It was apparent he didn't want to answer the question, but at the same time he was morally bound to honesty, and his pride wouldn't let him break with their agreement to be truthful. "... For my depression." Duo's heart dropped. He could have known Heero was depressed - as a proclaimed "mind-reader" he should have known - but his own bias still prevented him from doing his job properly from time to time. The idea of a man as wealthy as Heero, living such a luxurious life, being stricken with depression didn't compute with him, but as soon as Heero uttered the word, Duo knew it to be true. "Is it helping?" The question wasn't so much part of the plan as it was genuine interest and concern. "Yes. Well..." He plucked at his bottom lip with his teeth. "The pills help. Sort of." He made a face. Annoyance. Disgust. Embarrassment. It was too quick for Duo to make sense of it. "And I guess she helps too." Duo didn't even know what he was doing until both of them looked in surprise at Duo's hand on Heero's thigh. He retreated his hand into his own lap. "I'm sorry. I just meant to comfort you." "It's fine," Heero said gruffly. It definitely wasn't fine. "So, what's question sixteen?" Heero pressed on, uncomfortable with the silence that had stretched on for too long. "What do you think would make you happy again?" Duo held his breath. The billionaire didn't need time to think. "Someone special." "Is that why you've been hiring people like me - because you are looking for that?" Heero chuckled bitterly and it caused a sharp pain in Duo's chest. "I'm never going to have someone special," he said, "because I'm not someone special. I wouldn't deserve it. I just want some company, that is all." He played with his empty shot glass and refused to make eye contact. "You do deserve someone special," Duo blurted. "That's not a question," he retorted dumbly. "No. It isn't." They looked at each other for a long time. Duo's heart was racing. He was scared. He was scared of himself. He was scared of what it meant that he wanted to kiss Heero again in that moment. "Do you think I'm special?" "Yes." The way Heero said that so easily took Duo from the highest high to the lowest low, and he felt sick with himself afterwards. "Why am I special?" "Because you see everything," he said, his tone solemn. "You see me." He let out another self-deprecating chuckle. "You only have one question left," Heero reminded him in the quiet that settled between them. "I want to save it for another time." Heero nodded, relieved that the interview was over for the evening. "I guess you're allowed to do that. We didn't specify in our agreement that you had to ask all twenty questions in one sitting." Duo paid the tab with money from Heero's wallet and suggested they head back to the penthouse. It had been a long day and, especially after that confrontational conversation, they were both exhausted. Rather than get another cab, they got into the back of one of the black SUVs of Heero's protection detail that had trailed them to the bar. In the big vehicle there was a lot of empty space between them, but Duo reached across it. Heero's hand was resting on the seat next, to his leg, and Duo covered it with his own. He felt the surge of tension through the other's body. He caressed his thumb over the knuckles, waiting for Heero to relax, and once he did he turned his hand over and entwined their fingers. Duo wasn't sure about his own motivations. Did he do it as part of the master plan, or did he just want to hold his hand? The line was starting to get blurred. Both their palms were clammy, but neither let go.
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