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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 17 When the plane touched down on the tarmac, Heero was relieved at the safe landing, but Duo was hit with a wave of anxiety. His chest felt tight and his fingers dug into the leather armrests further and further as the plane rolled to a stop. He was home again and home was the worst place in the world, as far as he was concerned. The thought of going back to his apartment and seeing the faces of the people who put him in this mess made him nauseous. He turned his head to look at Heero and the man met his gaze. He wished he could open his mouth and say: "Get me out of here. Take me away. Take me anywhere else." But he couldn't. When a frown started to dawn on Heero's features, Duo brushed off his concerns with a haphazard smile. "Home sweet home," was what he said. Heero nodded stiffly in response, as if he wasn't too eager to leave the bubble they had been in either. At the bottom of the staircase they were met with Harold - Heero's not-so-loyal assistant - who started rattling off business-speak as soon as his employed was within earshot. The businessman barely acknowledged him, but listened to the updates and accepted the documents that were handed to him; all the while he never slowed his pace as he approached the town car. Duo trailed after them, watching Harold circle around Heero like a vulture. Duo should have been impressed with the man's con: he had managed to work his way into a trusted position from which he could siphon money out of the billionaire's pocket. It was the kind of long-con any con-artist would dream of landing, if they were that ambitious and bold. But Duo just resented the snake and he didn't know how much longer he could wait for the right opportunity to present itself to unmask Harold. Calvin had been leaning against the town car, but pushed himself upright and nodded to his boss with a tip of his hat, and then went to open the door for him. Duo was about to take his seat next to Heero in the back, when Harold rushed over and cut him off. "Do you mind?" The assistant sneered, looking him up and down with a kind of disdain that mirrored Duo's. "I have business matters to discuss with Mister Yuy." Not wanting to get into any kind of discussion at that moment, Duo sardonically held the door open for the other man and let him climb into the seat. He slammed the door shut a little harder than was considered proper and then sat down in the passenger seat, next to Calvin. "Hope you don't mind me riding shotgun?" Calvin smiled at him as he put away his cap on the dashboard. "Not at all, sir." During the entire car ride, Harold talked non-stop while Heero only replied in single-syllable, non-word sounds. Duo pretended to be looking out the window and listening to the music Calvin had put on, but instead he was paying close attention to the conversation in the backseat, in case he could catch Harold in another one of his schemes. But - as far as he understood - it was all legitimate business. He heard the click of Heero's pen several times as Harold asked him to sign documents. The assistant definitely wasn't shy around his boss, repeatedly making comments about how the New York trip couldn't have come at a worse time, with the "so-and-so" deal coming up; and how Heero shouldn't have stayed for the entire weekend, considering they had to reschedule his meeting with "What's-His-Name" and "Who-the-Fuck-Cares" for the third time and apparently, they were not amused - Harold emphasized. It was obvious that initially Heero had planned to only fly out to New York on the evening of the benefit and fly back the same night. The idea that the trip had been extended for Duo's sake made him uncomfortable, because it was really endearing and that was so, so wrong. He was supposed to be getting to Heero, not the other way around! The car stopped at Duo's apartment building and he felt rage bubbling just underneath the surface at the way Harold was studying the neighborhood. Without missing a beat, Calvin got out of the car as soon as he had parked it and walked around the back to get Duo's suitcase from the trunk - a Luis Vuitton suitcase that had just materialized in Duo's room at the New York Y-Tower shortly before they were scheduled to leave for the airport. The American turned in his seat to look at Heero. "I guess this marks the end of our trip?" Heero looked up from the document in his lap. "Yes," he said simply. Duo stopped himself from making a face. It all felt very... anti-climactic; like he had just woken from a dream, suddenly, and all the magic was gone. "Oh." "Does this not meet your expectations?" Duo didn't know how to answer. In a way it did, in another it didn't. He joked: "I guess another helicopter ride would have been fun." "That would have been excessive. Traffic here is light and it was only a short ride from the airport," Heero replied flatly. "Yeah, but it was fun," he argued in vain, knowing the other wouldn't understand. "It's just a mode of transportation." The man's dryness and literal take on everything bemused Duo and he cracked a smile, which confused the Japanese businessman. He could see Heero wondering why he was smiling when he didn't make a joke. There was something so innocent about Heero that ought to be cherished; but it was a precious thing that Duo was going to destroy. His smile fell from his face. "When will I see you again?" He sounded so needy, asking that question. He hadn't intended it. It was just the way the words slipped out. "Would you like to join me for dinner tomorrow?" His phrasing was clever: a way of rubbing in that Duo wanted to see him again, although not with malicious intentions. He sounded almost smug too, probably proud of his antisocial self for picking up on the tone in Duo's voice. Without batting an eye, Duo admitted: "I would." Heero nodded and looked back down at his papers. As he signed his name at the bottom corner, he absentmindedly said: "I will have it arranged for you to be picked up. Be ready at around seven. Bring your laptop; I want to see the pictures you've taken in New York." Usually he'd just find his own way to the mansion, but maybe Heero wanted to go out to a restaurant and hadn't decided which one yet. The instruction to share his photography was also out of the blue, but Duo had nothing to hide in that regard. "Alright. Cool. I'll see you tomorrow." He paused. It was such an awkward goodbye, with him sitting in the front and Heero in the back - the man himself not even looking at him while Harold, on the other hand, wouldn't stop staring. Duo shot the assistant a quick, dark look and then finally got out of the car. "Shall I carry this up for you, sir?" Asked Calvin, nodding at the suitcase he was holding. "Nah, it's fine. I got it." He took the suitcase from the driver and stood on the sidewalk as he watched the car peel away and speed down the street. He felt so out of place in his own neighborhood, standing in front of his dilapidated apartment building in a cashmere sweater, holding a suitcase that, in and of itself, was even more expensive than the high-end designer clothes inside. Before he would attract any unwanted attention, he hurried into the building and up to his apartment, which seemed to have shrunk over the course of his weekend-long absence. As he seriously wondered to himself if it had always been that cramped, he put the suitcase on the bed and habitually checked his stash of money under the floorboards. It was a tidy sum at that point, since Heero still paid him two-grand for every evening they spent together, and they had been spending a lot of time in each other's company. Nobody knew about the money, not even J.J. The youngster always had trouble keeping his mouth shut and his hands to himself. The money wasn't enough to pay off Tsubarov, of course, but it was steadily becoming enough to fund their get-away once this horrible job was behind him. He and J.J. would be skipping town as soon as it was over, because he knew Tsubarov wouldn't let them be if they stayed; he'd always find ways to rope them back into his seedy business. Duo dropped himself down on the mattress next to the big suitcase and folded his hands under the back of his head. The cracked, moldy ceiling above him made him long for his little room high up in the New York Y-Tower. At home, it felt like the walls were closing in on him. The space smelled musty too. With a groan, he got up to open the single window in the studio apartment. Sounds of traffic, car alarms and sirens filled the living space. The air could hardly be called fresh; he smelled the car exhausts, the frying grease from the snack bar on the corner, and the smoke of cigarettes and cigars from the drug dealers that loitered by their BMWs. He didn't remember being particularly unhappy with his life before being shown what "the other half" lived like, but he was certainly unhappy now. He had been jealous of Heero - and men like Heero - for having all the things that he did, but Duo realized now that, in spite of all of his hardships, he would not wish to trade places with the man. They were both unhappy, in their own way, for their own reasons. Money didn't change anything, not in any way that mattered. Heero had money like water, but the things he wanted were the kind of things that aren't for sale. He couldn't buy family, or friends. He could only buy the company of prostitutes - that's how desperate for human interaction the man had become. And all that money only attracted scum. Scum like "Mister Fox", Harold Greer, Neil "Smith", Tsubarov... Scum like Duo... There was little time to rest. His presence was demanded at "Operation Central", the apartment overlooking Corbeau Park, where the team always met up. Neil texted him and stopped by to come pick him up shortly after. Both didn't say anything in the car and Duo knew it was because Neil was starting to distrust him as much as he was starting to distrust Neil, after the man had thrown him into Tsubarov's lion's den not too long ago about the New York trip. When they got up to the apartment, Angelica and The Bear were already there. Duo's baby brother was, of course, absent. "I'm assuming J.J. was too drunk or stoned to heed your summons?" Duo inquired. Neil shrugged. "Perhaps. Probably. I didn't call him." Suddenly Duo was very aware of how outnumbered he was, even though he would never suspect Angelica to team up against him. His gaze shifted between Neil and The Bear, standing off to the side with his big arms crossed in front of his chest. "Sit down, Duo." Neil gestured at the other chair, on the opposite side of the desk. "Why?" "We're going to be here a while." Duo put his hands on his hips and quirked an eyebrow. "That so?" "You are going to tell us everything that was done and said in New York." Duo scoffed at the order. He wasn't going to tell them anything; Heero's secrets were none of their business. He agreed to help them pull off this heist, he never agreed to tell them the personal details of the target. Maybe he shouldn't have objected, but the least he could do was protect some of Heero's privacy and dignity. Neil slammed his hand down on the surface of the desk, startling the American. "I'm sick of being kept out of the loop, Maxwell!" "We all have our parts in this," Duo reminded him. "You do what you gotta do, and I do what I gotta do, and we don't bog each other down with play-by-plays of the how's, when's and why's of what we do." The Russian shot a quick look at The Bear and then shook his head at Duo's defiance. It was all Duo needed to know what was really going on: Tsubarov was putting the screws on Neil through The Bear. It wasn't Neil that was uncomfortable with Duo's loose reign during the project; the Tsar himself took issue. Before Neil could press further, Duo interjected: "Should I be talking to you or to him?" He threw his thumb over his shoulder at the big man looming over him. "What?" Neil bit, his ego already hurting. "Who's in charge here? You, or the big, bald mouthpiece behind me?" "I run this operation," Neil asserted. "Tsubarov doesn't micro-manage me." "Good, so keep him out of it." Duo could feel The Bear stepping closer to him, but he didn't acknowledge the tree of a man and instead, kept his focus on Neil. "I'm your boss, Maxwell. I need to know what the Hell is going on." "The shit I do with Heero doesn't concern you. It doesn't change anything about what you need to do to pull off his mission. Nor does it help Angelica. You are wasting everyone's time because there is someone breathing down your neck." "I am in charge! I hired you!" Neil yelled again. He sounded very convinced of it himself, but Duo didn't trust him to have control anymore. And he should have known. When he was pulled into the heist, Tsubarov didn't know yet how much money was at stake; now that he does, he can already smell it and he can't risk it slipping away. "And I'm doing exactly what you hired me to do," Duo replied smartly, holding on to his cool for the sake of winning the argument. "When I find the safe, I'll tell you. When I know he'll be out of town, I'll tell you. That's it." "You just don't want to admit that, after months, you still have jack shit," The Bear cut in. A shiver traveled down Duo's spine at the low tone of the man's voice, close to his ear - closer than he had sensed him to be, way up in his personal space. He allowed himself to look over his shoulder to confirm the man had leaned in and was very literally breathing down his neck. Duo glared at Neil. "Well, if you really are the man in charge around here, aren't you gonna call off your dog? He's practically humping my leg." "You'd wish I'd hump you, fucking faggot," the bald man sneered. "Just so you know, you are the only one overestimating the size of your penis and quality of your sexual prowess. Everyone else sees a bald hunk of testosterone with a compensation-complex." The Bear actually growled. The man scared him, but Duo couldn't let that show; if he did, he'd lose what little power he had left. "Stop it," Neil ordered. "Both of you." Thankfully, The Bear listened and he stepped back. "I don't trust you anymore, Duo," Neil said point-blank. "That's a problem." He had expected as much. It would be easy enough to win back Neil's trust if he'd just tell him the truth about everything that happened in New York, but he didn't want to - the price was too high and he wasn't willing to pay. As far as Duo was concerned, they weren't entitled to any more private information about Heero than absolutely necessary for the purpose of their task. Protecting his secrets didn't make what Duo was doing to him any more excusable, but he needed to do something to prove to himself that he wasn't a totally abhorrent person. "You'll trust me again once we stand in front of that safe." Neil sighed and some of his anger seemed to deflate. "Do you really still think you can get us what we need?" He nodded. "I do. I'm close, I can feel it." "He's expected to make his next withdrawal at the beginning of January. That means we have less than a month..." he reminded him and then challenged: "Are you still sure?" "Yes." Neil stared at him for a long time, but Duo knew himself to be unreadable and he stared right back until the man gave in. "Fine," Neil grumbled. "but you need to do better than tell us the location of the safe at the last minute. There is still a lot of planning to do once we know where it is." "I know. It won't be much longer." His palms were sweating and he resisted the urge to wipe his hands on his jeans. "Fine," he said again. "You're dismissed. All of you." Duo wasn't about to linger in the hostile environment. He pivoted on his heels and walked out, closely followed by The Bear and Angelica. The three of them stood in the elevator and none of them said anything, but when they reached the ground floor and were about to exit the building, The Bear - walking two steps ahead of him - suddenly halted and blocked the door with his big frame. Looking down at Duo with dead eyes, he said: "I know you are not scared of Tsubarov and his theatrics. But you should be scared of me." Duo's skin crawled at the threat and he burst out in a cold sweat. "Neil is a puppet. I don't take orders from a puppet." He swallowed and The Bear grinned at the sight of his Adam's apple bobbing up and down nervously. The black eyes stared into him a little longer, but then finally he turned around and walked out the door. Not until The Bear was out of sight did Duo release the breath he was holding. When he felt a delicate hand touch his shoulder, he shot Angelica a sheepish look. "I'm usually much cooler than this." "He's a scary guy," she conceded. "Yeah. Aren't you afraid? Of what he'll do?" She paused in thought. "I've considered it, but I'm the only cracker in the state that can get into a KDF. I have to trust that that will keep me safe. Tsubarov needs me." Duo nodded. She was a valuable asset to the gang. "Can we talk for a moment, Duo?" She asked. He was a little stunned. He liked her, but he never spent any time with her. "Uh, yeah. Sure." "The nearest bus stop is ten minutes from here. Let's walk." "Okay." He nodded and followed her out the door. He walked next to her in silence, wondering when she was going to start talking. He observed the way her jet black, wavy hair gleamed in the sunlight, and the attractive sway of her hips as she walked. She had a relaxed and casual aura and carried herself like she had it all figured out. He knew she was wrong, if she believed that, but he admired her confidence. He remembered her telling him that this was supposed to be her last job - that she was getting out of the business. Surely, she had to know better than that. As she had established herself, Tsubarov needs her; there was no way he was ever going to let her go and ride off into the sunset with her share of the ten-million-dollar bounty. In fact, the more he started to think of it, the more he realized none of them would be riding off into the sunset. Neil was a criminal with some sense of honor and comradery left in him, but these were values that Tsubarov did not share. Neil, Angelica and Duo were of value to the gang, thanks to their skills, and they would be kept on a short leash. J.J. was worthless to the drug lord and his intentions had probably always been for him to die, no matter what. He didn't share his thought process with Angelica and instead quietly panicked and fretted to himself, until she finally spoke up: "You're starting to like him, aren't you?" He blinked at her. "Why would you say that?" "Just now, you were protecting him. And when we sent J.J. in to talk with Harold, you referred to him as 'Heero', not 'Yuy'." He nodded. "You caught that, huh?" "You are not the only one who is observant, Duo." "I guess not." "Are you thinking about backing out?" The question shocked him. "I-..." Was he? "No. No, but..." He sighed and took a moment to compose himself and to find the right words. "I am thinking it is more complicated than I first thought." "It's just as uncomplicated as it ever was. We need money. He has money." "It's not uncomplicated," he stressed. "Maybe it would have been if he was the selfish asshole that I assumed him to be. But he's not. He's kind. And generous." She narrowed her eyes at him, unsympathetic to his moral conflict. "We need to do this, Duo." "I know. You want your money." She stopped and fixed a glare on him. "Don't talk to me like that. Don't indulge in the illusion that you are the only one of us with something at stake, motivated by more than greed. If we pull this off, I can go home to my abuela in Puerto Vallarta and take care of my little boy." To say he was surprised was an understatement. He couldn't even speak. Her gaze softened and she made a dismissive gesture. "I know. It's my best-kept secret. Nobody knows and nobody can know, especially not Tsubarov. I'm the best at what I do; when I stop doing what I do, I need him to not have anything to threaten me with. This is my only chance to disappear. With the money from this gig, I can go home to my little boy, like I promised him I would." Her eyes turned watery and sorrowful as she added: "He's waiting for me. He's been waiting for me for years." "I-... I don't know what to say." Knowing she was a mother put a new perspective on things. She continued: "This job is important, Duo. I know your part is the hardest - the dirtiest - but we all need to play our parts because we all need this to work. I trust you to keep my secret... and to help me keep my promise." He took a deep breath and followed her when she started walking again. He took a moment to sort through his thoughts. "I know I can't back out. I know. But... We're talking about ruining someone's life here. He's already so closed off. If I do this, he'll never be able to trust anybody, ever again. His life will be void of anything but fear and resentment." "But your brother will live," she reminded him, as if he needed to be reminded. "Maybe. But he'll never be safe. We'll never be safe. Do you really think we can actually escape this place?" "It's the best shot that I've ever had, in the four years I've been here." "I'm ruining someone's life for a shot at something that none of us even deserve." She stopped dead in her tracks again. "My son deserves a good life!" She exclaimed. "He does. Of course he does. But what does Heero deserve?" She snorted in frustration although he could tell she wasn't impervious to the dilemma - she had simply already made up her mind and, as a mother wanting to protect her child, nothing was going to change her mind. "We can't look out for everybody. I look out for my son, the way you look out for your brother." "Nobody is looking out for Heero. How is that fair?" "It isn't. Life isn't fair. You must know this as well as I do." She looked at him with pleading eyes. "I beg you, Duo. Don't quit on me." He stared into her dark, amber eyes and promised her: "I won't." Giving up on this mission just wasn't an option. More people than just J.J. depended on him and he didn't want to let anybody down. "Thank you," she breathed and then she flashed him a smile. When they started walking again she linked their arms together and leaned into him. "What's his name?" Duo asked after walking a block in silence. He looked down to see a small smile tug at the corner of her mouth. "Elías. He's six years old." "... What about the father?" He was hesitant to ask, but his curiosity got the better of him. "He's gone." "I'm sorry." "No-" She let out a bitter chuckle at his misinterpretation. "I don't mean he's dead. I mean I sent him away and made sure he would stay away." "Oh." He didn't say anything else, nor did he ask any questions, because he could tell from the pensive look on her face that she was about to share the story anyway. As he had expected, she started: "I don't have anything against drug dealers, on principle... I've known a lot of them: family, friends, people I've worked with. Not all bad people. But Thiago," she made a face as she spat the name, "He used kids as his drug mules. Little kids. The way the cartels do in Mexico." Duo listened attentively, interested in understanding her better. "I used to look the other way. I knew him from when we were both kids, growing up together in Puerto Vallarta. He was a good guy, once, and I could still see that in him. You know, if I squinted and tried real hard," she joked facetiously. "We came up here, to the promised land, and when those promises turned out to be lies, we both developed our own specific skills. He climbed his way up in the drug industry, and I started out robbing spoiled housewives and then later robbed banks and stuff." She shrugged. "I figured I had no right to judge him for the way he conducted his business. I was no angel either. I turned a blind eye." Duo nodded in understanding. "When I found out I was pregnant, I couldn't not see it anymore. For the first time, I realized that those kids he put in danger, they were someone's baby. The father of my child terrorized other people's babies and got them killed, or taken away from their families. I wasn't going to let him put our own child in such a position. I wasn't going to see my child on the six o'clock news, dead or imprisoned." Angelica tightened her grip on Duo's arm as she lost herself in the emotions. "I didn't even tell Thiago I was pregnant. I broke it off, finally threw his infidelities in his face and I went back to my abuela. I had my baby there and for two years I stayed and we lived hand to mouth until I realized I had two options: I could stay and work for the drug cartels, or I could come back here, where I had a reputation and where I had people's respect. There was more money to be made here, so it was simple math. I promised my abuela and Elías that I would make as much money as quickly as possible, so I could take care of them for the rest of our lives and I would come back and never leave them again..." She took a deep breath. "I haven't seen them in over three years. Abuela sends me pictures, so I can watch my boy grow up, but I'm too afraid to keep even a single photo. I'm too afraid the wrong people will see, so I burn the pictures... Sometimes before I've even looked at them." "I'm sorry," he said sincerely. He couldn't offer anything else. "I know it's a long shot," Angelica acknowledged. "But I have to try." Duo nodded. "Thank you for telling me." They had reached the bus stop and she detached herself from him. "Don't thank me. I'm telling you for selfish reasons. To guilt-trip you into not giving up on this job." "I know. But I needed this. I needed the guilt-trip." "That's what I thought." She smiled at the bus she spotted driving towards them. "This is me. You need the 122. It'll be here in ten minutes." "Thanks." The bus came to a screeching halt and the doors opened with a hiss. Angelica stepped on board. "Angelica," Duo called before she could step further into the vehicle to find herself a seat. When she turned to make eye-contact with him, he pointed out: "Heero was someone's baby too, but when she died he was left with a bad father, like Thiago." Her smile was wry. "Don't flip this guilt-trip on me, Duo. We need to do this." "I know. I'm just saying: it's not 'uncomplicated'." Her smile turned soft and sympathetic. "You're right." The doors closed and the bus took off. Delayed, his bus didn't come until twenty minutes later, but he wasn't bothered; he was too lost in his own thoughts to fret about the time and getting home. At home, Duo lay down in bed beside the suitcase again. He reached out and touched the supple leather, imprinted with a repetitive pattern of the Luis Vuitton logo. He missed New York. Things were uncomplicated there. Here, the reality was too prominent, too confrontational. There would be no happy ending, for anyone, but he still had to try his best. He had to save J.J., Elías, Angelica and maybe even Neil; save them from Tsubarov's greed and The Bear's bloodlust. Angelica was right; life was unfair. He knew that, of course he knew that. But he had only ever considered it from his own perspective: his life was unfair. He found little peace in finally discovering that everyone's life was unfair. He didn't get much sleep that night. The mattress was lumpy and the air stuffy and he could still smell The Bear's breath, like it lingered in the fine hairs in his nose. It made his stomach churn all through the night, as he tossed and turned in bed. The next day he went to see J.J. He hoped that seeing his little brother would spark his determination and add fuel to their selfish goals. He needed all the crutches he could find, to be able to pull through. He had an extra key to the young man's apartment - Duo was the one paying for it, after all. He found the black-haired youngster asleep - or passed out - on the couch, with the TV still on. The amount of beer bottles that were carefully lined up on the coffee table was nearly impressive. The place reeked of weed and unwashed clothes and bedding. He crossed the room to the window, peeled away the blinds and opened it. J.J. stirred as bright sunlight hit his face. He scrunched up his features and brought up a hand to shield himself from the unforgiving light. "Who's there?" "It's me, numbnuts. Who else?" "I dunno... I was keeping my fingers crossed for the hot chick from last night." Just to be sure he didn't take a girl home and forget all about it, Duo checked the bed and the bathroom but found both to be empty. Honestly, he doubted J.J. managed to charm anyone into coming home with him. With a groan the other propped himself upright on the couch and he rubbed his eyes and squinted in the sunlight. Around him, Duo habitually started tidying up the place to the best of his abilities. "... How was New York?" J.J. eventually thought to ask. "It was great; I never wanted to leave." J.J. mistook his brother's bitter tone for dry sarcasm and chuckled. "Yeah, I bet Yuy was a hoot." The comment rubbed Duo the wrong way, when - really - it shouldn't have. "Heero was-" He stopped himself. Kind. Caring. Interesting. Lovely. All things he shouldn't say; things he shouldn't even be thinking, much less feeling. He switched gears and decided to joke lightly: "I got to ride in a helicopter, that was fun." J.J. perked up. "That sounds cool!" Duo nodded. He found a roll of trash bags under the sink and started tossing the beer bottles into a bag until it was so full and heavy he was afraid it was about to tear. He put it aside and started on filling a second bag. "You don't have to do that, man. It's fine." "It's not, it's disgusting," he shot back offhandedly. "Speaking of disgusting..." He looked the younger man up and down and wrinkled his nose. "Go take a shower." J.J. let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine..." He got up and dragged himself into the bathroom, not even bothering with closing the door, nor the shower curtain. Duo continued cleaning up. He ripped the bedding off the mattress and got fresh linens - still brand new and in their plastic packaging - from the closet and he made the bed. J.J. popped his head out of the door, with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. He was clearly still naked. "You wanna go ge bweakfasss?" He mumbled around the toothbrush. Duo pointed out: "It's three PM." J.J. shrugged and went to spit out the toothpaste after barely brushing his teeth. "Yeah, sure. We can go get something to eat." Once J.J. was dressed - in clothes he got from the top of the laundry pile - they headed out the door and went to a diner two blocks down. "This is nice," the black-haired man commented once he was served his coffee. "We don't do this anymore." "Hm." Duo pensively stirred too much sugar into his coffee. "You're always hanging out with Yuy." Irked by the implication that he was choosing Heero over his own family, Duo shot back: "That's my job." J.J. raised his hands in surrender. "I know. I know. And you're doing it all for me." "I am doing it all for you," he asserted, getting more irritable. This wasn't what he had been looking for. For once, he just needed J.J. to be a sufferable person to be around so he could reaffirm his need and desire to save the kid. "Well... A helicopter ride doesn't sound like a bad day's work, is all I'm saying." Duo decided not to respond, knowing nothing good would come of it. He didn't want to argue. The waitress dropped off their plates and J.J. tucked in while Duo pushed the food around with his fork. He shouldn't eat - he was having dinner with Heero later. J.J. looked up. "Not hungry, bro?" Duo shook his head and shrugged. "Had a big lunch." "Do you mind?" J.J. pointed at his brother's serving of chili fries. "Not at all." He pushed the plate across the table. "Go ahead." J.J. grinned sloppily and dug into his brother's meal as well. Duo chuckled and he reminisced aloud: "A.J. used to eat off my plate too. Told me he did it to keep me skinny and pretty for the boys." The other didn't respond and just kept eating. "You look like him," he remarked, hoping to hide the sadness to his tone. J.J. looked like his big brother, but on the inside, the two were nothing alike. A.J. was a good guy, selfless and responsible. J.J. had grown up to be his polar opposite and Duo wondered if it was all his fault - if he ruined him. "You sound like you were in love with him." Duo did not appreciate the degrading comment. "He was as much a brother to me as he was to you." "... Right. You're more into Asian guys." He tightly curled his fingers around his coffee mug. "Angelica told me she's worried about you." He looked up in surprise. "She did? What else did she say?" "Not much. Said that you called him 'Heero', like that was a big deal or something." A thought popped up in his head. "Hey, before, at my place, you called him 'Heero' too..." He looked at the braided man in thought. "Does it mean something?" "Nothing you need to worry about." "But it does mean something," he concluded. "Just eat the damn chili fries and leave it alone, okay?" "... Whatever..." He watched J.J. finish both plates and then they left the diner and went their separate ways after a stiff, awkward goodbye. At home, Duo took a power nap and then got ready for his date with Heero. He showered and dressed himself in some of the new clothes the billionaire had purchased for him. He also uploaded the photos from New York onto the laptop, since Heero was requested to see them. He went through them just to make sure he didn't take any incriminating snaps, but they were all pictures of architecture and random people on the streets; it wasn't like the pictures he had taken at the mansion, which were quite obviously surveillance photos. Calvin should have pulled up a little after six thirty if they were supposed to make it to the Corbeau Estate in time for the seven PM dinner, but at a quarter to seven Duo had yet to see the black town car roll down the street. He sat in the window sill and waited impatiently, jittering with his leg. He hoped Heero hadn't forgotten, or decided to cancel without the courtesy of letting him know. He really wanted to see Heero tonight. In a strange way, even though Heero was "the job", being with him helped Duo forget about the job - it was the closest thing to an escape from reality. At six fifty PM, his ears picked up on a rumbling sound in the distance. He first mistook it for thunder, then assumed it was an airplane, but as the sound steadily approached he recognized it as the roar of a helicopter. He cocked his head and stared up at the black sky as the rumbling became louder and louder, until it was almost deafening; with his nose pressed up against the window he could feel the vibrations in the glass right before he spotted the blinking lights passing overhead. "Holy shit... Holy shit..." He backed away from the window as the thought occurred to him that the chopper must have landed on the roof of his building, considering how close and low it was. "No... No way..." He shook his head at himself and paced back and forth. He was startled by a knock on his door, less than two minutes later. Waiting for him in the hallway was a tall man he recognized to be one of Heero's bodyguards. "Sir, your ride is here. Follow me up to the roof, please." "Holy shit..." The man smiled. Anxious and excited Duo grabbed his laptop and camera from the dinner table and he followed the man down the hall and up the stairs to the roof. The rotors were still turning, moving some of the lighter gravel that covered the roof. The helicopter was smaller than the one he had been on in New York and it wasn't black with the Y-logo on the tail; it was silver with generic detailing. With his head bowed, the bodyguard approached the helicopter and opened the door for Duo. He waved for him to hurry up and once they were both seated in the back and Duo had been handed a set of earphones with headset, he was informed by a static voice: "Sorry for rushing you. We didn't exactly get permission to land here, so we needed to make this quick." Duo grinned. The pilot turned around in his seat to look back at Duo. "I was instructed to make this a fun trip for you. Are up for that, sir?" His smile brightened further. "Hell yeah." The pilot gave a thumbs-up and turned back in his seat. Without warning, the helicopter launched straight upwards, ascending quickly, causing Duo's stomach to sink in his body but it was a thrilling sensation. Unlike the flight in New York, which was smooth and controlled, this pilot had some tricks up his sleeves, flying the helicopter like they were strapped into a roller coaster cart - just short of doing barrel rolls and loopings. Duo was jostled from left to right and couldn't stop laughing, even as the seatbelt dug into his waist and shoulders in an attempt to keep him from being thrown around the cabin. "You can open the side door, if you dare," the pilot challenged. "Are you serious?" "Hell yeah," was his response, mimicking Duo from before. He didn't need to be told twice. He pulled the handle to his left and the door slid open. The winter wind in his face was ice-cold but his body was hot from the excitement anyway. He leaned over as far as his harness allowed and looked down at the lit buildings and network of streets. Not until the cold was starting to get to him did he close the door. His heart was racing and his laughter must have been obnoxious and childish, but he couldn't be bothered or self-conscious about it. What was perhaps most special was that Heero had arranged for this. He had gone through the trouble of renting a helicopter, breaking laws to have it come pick him up, and specifically instructing the pilot to entertain him because he remembered Duo telling him that he had fun on the helicopter in New York. They didn't head straight for Corbeau Park; instead the helicopter zigzagged above the city and it wasn't until twenty minutes later that the flight evened out. Duo looked down to see a neighborhood dotted with big mansions and they slowed down above the biggest of them all. He recognized the U-shape of the building, the enclosed inner courtyard at the front, and the pool sandwiched between the two wings of the estate in the back. The aircraft gently touched down on the wide-open lawn of the backyard and Duo climbed out, clutching his laptop and camera to his chest. He didn't even think to take pictures, he had been too excitable. The bodyguard guided him to one of the back entries of the house, leading straight into the grand kitchen where the chef and his staff were hard at work. They all smiled at him when they greeted him. Gerry rounded a corner and approached him, sending the guard away. "Gerry! I kinda missed you! Why didn't you come with us to New York?" "Even I need a weekend off now and then, sir." Duo stomped his foot childishly. "Will you please stop calling me 'sir'?" "I'll try," he promised. "I'm a little later than planned. Is Heero still working?" "Isn't he always?" Gerry countered with an amusing tilt of his head. "You are welcome to join him in the office. I'm sure he will wrap up as soon as he knows you are here." Duo couldn't help but smile. He was allowed to freely find his way to the home office in the front, left wing of the house. He opened the thick oak door and found his host exactly as he expected: seated behind his desk, pouring over documents, his desk phone pinned between his cheek and shoulder. His voice was quiet as he spoke in a foreign language which sounded like French. The Japanese man looked up from his work when he noticed the arrival of his guest. The business call was quickly cut short and he started the process of carefully stacking the documents and lining them up in a specific order on the desk, for later. "Did you enjoy your flight?" He asked absentmindedly. "I loved it," Duo replied with a big smirk. He put his laptop and camera down on the coffee table in front of the black leather couch. "That was really nice of you." "Hn." Duo let out an amused snort. He watched in silence as Heero shook his jacket off his shoulder, took off his tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his pressed, white shirt routinely. He was a beautiful man. Duo had always known this, it was apparent to see, but he very rarely truly appreciated it. There was something about his more relaxed look that made his features shine. With a mischievous glint in his own eyes, Duo walked up to the desk and while Heero was in the process of rolling up his sleeves, Duo reached out a hand and messed up Heero's hair, pulling the bangs which had been meticulously brushed back, forward and into his face. "I like your hair like this." Heero glanced at his reflection in the black computer screen. "I look like an unkempt teenager." "You look like-... a friend," he decided. It was true, with his hair haphazardly falling into his eyes, he didn't look so severe and cold; he looked approachable and friendly. At the confused frown, Duo smirked and pulled his braid over his shoulder. "What do I look like?" The frown deepened as Heero carefully observed him to answer the question. He got up from his seat and stared into Duo's eyes. His gaze was so intense, Duo had to resist the urge to squirm. Then, all of a sudden, the blue - no, "prussian" - eyes softened, the cold melting away by a sudden warmth in the way Heero looked at him, and he said: "You look like more than a friend." Duo swallowed. Had they been standing this close the entire time? He was suddenly acutely aware of how intimate the little distance between them was. His heart rate was thundering as he watched Heero reach up a hand to reverently touch the feathered end of his braid; just a delicate touch of his fingertips. Reactively, he took a step back, but he regretted it instantly, even before he noticed the flicker of sadness in Heero's eyes. "I apologize," the billionaire said stiffly, slipping back into his distant, polite demeanor which was his comfort zone. "I shouldn't have said that. That was too forward. If you consider me a friend, then I would consider myself very fortunate and I shouldn't expect anything more." He avoided eye-contact, exposing insecurities that he usually hid quite well to the untrained eye. "Heero..." Duo stepped closer and raised his hand and cupped it around the back of the man's head. When the Prussian gaze met his again, Duo leaned in and gently sealed their lips together in a soft kiss. Heero's eyes slid closed right before Duo's did and unlike last time, when he seemed too shell-shocked to respond in any way, the Japanese man tilted his head to properly accept the kiss. Their lips moved together and Duo's arms were covered with goosebumps. It wasn't supposed to be like that. It was supposed to be emotionless. It was supposed to leave him unaffected. But the butterflies in his stomach were real and it had been too long since Duo had last felt that. He lost himself in the kiss. He licked into Heero's mouth and inched his body closer until they were pressed together. That was when Heero turned his head away, ending the kiss. "I'm sorry," Duo breathed, confused and worried by the rejection. "I wanted to kiss you and I thought you wanted me to." Heero looked up at him with apologetic eyes. "I did. I do. I want you to kiss me, but I don't want-" he couldn't finish his sentence, but Duo nodded in understanding. "We were going too fast," he concluded. "I get that. I'm sorry." It was for the better. The way he lost himself in that kiss was really dangerous. They both turned their head when the door opened following a curt knock and Gerry stepped inside. The man seemed a little shocked at the scene he walked in on, with the two of them standing so closely together. "Is everything alright, sir?" Heero cleared his throat before he said. "It's fine, thank you." Gerry smiled knowingly. "Dinner is served." "We'll be out in a minute." Gerry nodded and then excused himself. Duo chuckled sheepishly. "I feel like a teen again, having my big brother walk in on me while I'm dry-humping a boy on the couch." Heero didn't smile in response to the joke, making Duo uncomfortable and reassess if those kinds of jokes were appropriate. Then he realized his mistake: mentioning a brother. He still had to get Heero to open up about what happened to the brother he had yet to own up to having. They had dinner in silence. Heero didn't seem upset, but he was clearly hesitant about starting up conversation and Duo was too, constantly second-guessing himself. His blossoming affection for the businessman wasn't making his job any easier; it was clouding him. He wanted to press for more information, to tear down the barriers between them to the point where Heero would finally feel comfortable to let him in on the location of his safe, but he didn't want to pry and hurt the man's feelings by forcing him to think about things he would obviously rather forget. But at the same time, he was also immensely curious, beyond the purpose of the mission, to uncover the full story of the Yuy family: the mother, the father and the brother that was never even mentioned, but Duo was sure he had. After dinner Duo retrieved his laptop and camera from the office and joined Heero in the formal living room. They both sat down on the couch and Duo put the laptop in his lap and invited Heero to sit closer to him so he could better see the pictures of New York scrolling by on the screen. "Was it rude of me, the way I asked you to show me the photos?" Heero inquired out of the blue. Duo paused the slideshow and thought for a moment. "I guess. Maybe. I didn't really think about it." "Because you're used to me being rude?" "No," he shook his head and smiled, "Because I know that whenever I might think you are being rude, you're not actually trying to be rude. You just don't know any better." "Hn.' "Don't worry, young grasshopper, I will teach you our human ways," he joked with a grin. Heero pursed his lips at him, showing dismay, but amusement sparkled in his eyes. "Are you ever going to smile at any of my jokes?" "Only when you'll actually be as funny as you think you are." Duo let out a chuckle at the dry retort. "Fine. Challenge accepted." They continued to slideshow, and when they had scrolled through all the photographs, Duo asked: "So, what is you artistic opinion on my work?" "The composition is derivative and the subjects are uninspired." Duo laughed again, at Heero's serious consideration. He couldn't even be offended. He enjoyed taking pictures, but he didn't fancy himself an actual photographer. "Besides, I don't particularly care for photography, you know that." "Then why did you ask me to show you the pictures?" "Because you enjoy it." A warm smile spread across his lips and his chest felt warm as well. "That's really nice." Heero shrugged. "Show me something you enjoy." The Japanese man quirked an eyebrow. "Like what?" "You said a while ago that you'd show me your favorite painting. Show me now." The man thought for a moment and then rose up from the couch. "Okay." Without another word, he walked away; Duo assumed he was supposed to follow, so he leapt upright and tailed after him. They passed through the foyer and went back to the home office. There was a big painting over the black couch, but Heero walked past it and he headed into the informal sitting room at the very front of the mansion, next to the conference room. Duo hadn't been in the room much. He paused in the center and looked at the single painting over the fire place; he was underwhelmed by the abstract, geometric shapes in flaming colors. But then he noticed that Heero wasn't walking towards the painting, he stepped into the corner of the room and pressed his hand against the wood-paneled wall. With a click, a vertical row of three square panels popped open, revealing it to be a secret door. Duo was absolutely stunned and stared wide-eyed. In the dark doorway, automatic lights flickered on and Heero walked in. After a heartbeat, Duo followed and he discovered a narrow, well-lit staircase leading down into a basement. He didn't want to think about his job, but he couldn't push aside the realization that the safe would have to be in this secret room as well. He was led into a spacious, underground office, similar in style to the home office upstairs: walls clad with square wooden panels - one of them hiding the safe, obviously - a desk at the center, a small sitting area, one wall lined with bookcases and in the corner, an easel with a blank canvas and painting supplies scattered around it. But Heero was facing the wall to the left of the desk and Duo walked further into the hidden room and came to stand next to him. The single painting was done in earthy tones, giving it a weathered look. Loose, imprecise brushstrokes - by a brush that had too little black left on it - outlined four simple shapes; separate, but clustered together as one unity. It was a family: a father, a mother and two small children. As simple and minimalist as it was, the father exuded a protective strength and pride, with his barely defined, straight shoulders, and his arm reaching down to place a non-existent hand on the head of one of the children. The mother equally had her own aura with her softer, rounder shapes. The two children stood close together, one barely distinguishable from the other and their heads leaning towards each other. Duo took a moment to take it all in. He didn't really appreciate Heero's taste in art, but this particular piece was easy to feel connected with. It wasn't as ambiguous as the other works that decorated the estate. It was a clear and very personal statement about Heero. The way the man looked at the painting, with such a painful longing, only made it that much more poignant. "It's beautiful," Duo whispered, respectful of what an intimate moment it was for Heero. "Did you paint it?" "No. This was painted by someone who had that," he nodded at the painting, referring to the happy family. "This is why I love paintings over photographs," Heero continued, never peeling his eyes away from the artwork. "The artist created this as an image of his own family, a family portrait. But because it is an abstract painting, as opposed to a photo, I can pretend that it's my own family portrait and pretend that this is what we were: happy and complete." Duo allowed for a moment of silence and then asked: "Who is the second child?" "... My brother." He was right, but he felt no victory at having it confirmed, because the tone in Heero's voice broke his heart. "Where is he now?" He had a feeling he already knew the answer, but he had to ask. "He's dead. And has been for a very long time. He never grew up to be as big as the child in the painting. He was stillborn." Duo's heart clenched. "And your mother?" "If I tell you, will you tell me something about yourself?" Heero countered. "That's how friendship works, right? That's what you said." "Yeah. That's how it works." Heero nodded. "I was my father's son; I was never much of a son to her. He made me-... He made me difficult for her to love." Duo could fill in the blanks for himself. His father had made him cold and disconnected, even at a young age. "I was eight years old when she became pregnant again. My father didn't want another child, he already had an heir to his empire after all," he scoffed bitterly. "But she needed him. To love. To be loved. To not be corrupted by my father... She was devastated and she had nobody to turn to and share in her grief. My father was unsympathetic; he was mostly worried about the shame it would cause the family. He was a traditional man and a stillborn child was a sign of his weakness. And I-" He swallowed and cast his gaze down in shame: "And I resented my own, stillborn baby brother for making my mother sad and for making my father... worse." Duo took a deep breath. He could feel his stomach turning in his abdomen. "I resented him. He was supposed to make my mother happy and take some of my father's wrath that I had been facing alone." He shook his head at himself. The American hesitated, but he ended up placing a hand on Heero's shoulder, wanting to show support and offer comfort. He felt the man stiffen, but the gesture was not rejected, so he squeezed the shoulder and rubbed his thumb in circles. "She became more and more depressed, causing my father more shame. She would only wear black and she made scenes at dinners and galas; she was being very 'inappropriate'. They fought a lot and one night I heard her say that she couldn't go on living that way anymore; that she didn't have anything left to live for. And my father told her: 'Then save us both the embarrassment and end it'." A chill ran down Duo's spine. "Jesus..." he uttered. "They didn't fight much after that. She stayed home; never left the house. One day, I came home from school and I found a note on the bottom step of the staircase. 'Don't come looking for me. Call your father'." Oh God. "I did go looking for her." Duo didn't need to know the details of the state in which he had found his mother, nor did he want to know. She had killed herself and Heero had been witness to the horrible aftermath. It put a new perspective on the other grueling story the man had told him, about how he had driven his own father to suicide, by taking his company away from him. He had been avenging his mother. Duo knew his dreams that night would be haunted. "Anyway... This painting lets me forget all that. My brother gets to grow older and my mother is around to see it and my father loves us all." He cocked his head to the side to look at Duo. "Does that make sense?" "Wanting to escape reality? Yeah, it does." Duo spent some time sorting through his thoughts, sifting through the details of the story that had been shared with him. He surmised: "Is that why you don't wear black? Because your mother always wore black?" "I saw her disappear into darkness. I didn't want to follow her there. I thought I could somehow control it that way. Black made her sorrow real; it made something abstract and intangible visible and prominent, and inescapable. My father forced me to wear black for her funeral when I didn't want to and it became this huge ordeal. I'm still trying to escape my own sorrow, trying to pretend it's not real by not giving it a face." He offered Duo a bitter smile. "My therapist is a very wealthy woman by now." Duo forced on a smile in return. "What about your family?" Duo shrugged. "There isn't much to tell. I never had parents. I mean, about thirty-three years ago there was a man who inseminated a woman and nine months later, that woman birthed me, but that's biology, not family. I had two brothers, they were my brothers by choice, not by blood. Now I only have one left and even though he makes it very hard for me to love him, I can't not love him. I can't let him go. I'm terrified of losing him, even though... Even though I know I lost him a long time ago. He's no longer the brother that I chose. I can't give up on him because I'm responsible for him and if I give up on him, it's another thing in my life that I've failed; it's another promise I didn't keep. I have to take care of him, at all costs. Not quitting on him is the one thing I do that might make me a redeemable person in the end." "Is he the reason why you do what you do?" Duo snapped his head to look at him. "What?" Realization dawned on him. "Oh, working as a man-whore, you mean?" "If you want to put it that way..." He smiled wryly. "I want to say 'yes'. He's certainly the reason why I am in this specific point in my life," he said vaguely, wanting to be as honest as possible but without revealing the incriminating truth. The long-haired man kept staring at the painting, imposing his own face on it and the faces of those he considered family. It was a nice fantasy and he understood the appeal of the painting. If he stared long enough at the featureless faces, they really started to look like the people he knew, even though that didn't make any sense. "The thing is though..." He continued thoughtfully. "I have made a lot of sacrifices to protect my little brother, J.J., but they've always been my own sacrifices. Lately-..." Duo paused to try and figure out how to phrase his confession without actually betraying his intentions. "Lately, I've been forced to make sacrifices on other people's behalf, to save him. I'm hurting people, good people. I'm hurting people who don't deserve to be hurt, to save someone who-..." He shrugged. "I don't know what he deserves." Not death, but how much longer could he force himself to believe that the moral scale still tipped in favor of saving J.J.? "He's your brother," Heero stated, his voice even and strong. "You have to protect him. You have no choice." Duo peeled his gaze away from the painting to stare at Heero. "You don't even know what I'm doing." "I know that you are a prostitute and a thief," he said point-blank, "and I know you wouldn't be either if you had any other choice." Duo felt an ice-cold chill pass through his body. Inadvertently, Heero was basically telling him to rob him and to not think twice about it. The man had no idea what he was unintentionally encouraging Duo to do. It saddened him to recognize that the distrusting businessman was completely unaware of the deceit right before him, clouded by his own affection for the man he believed to be a benign escort and pickpocket. There the con-artist was, standing in front of Heero's most cherished possession, in his secret room - his sacred refuge - being told the most private stories of the man's life. He was so close to accomplishing the goal he had been set out to achieve, but he never felt more disappointed in himself. Duo had grown up feeling so damn sorry for himself and his own misfortune, that he had felt entitled to the unlawful solutions he had found to his problems. But he didn't feel sorry for himself in that moment; he felt sorry for Heero. He'd been hurt in so many ways; Duo wanted to protect him from getting hurt again. He wanted to save everyone, but he couldn't. There were lives at stake. He had no choice.
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