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"The Highest Bidder"Written By: Snowdragonct Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved. Warnings: yaoi, swearing, lemon and/or lime, post-War Pairings: 1X2, 3X4 background A/N: This is a Valentine's Day story, just a bit early. I expect to have all three parts posted before the big day. Enjoy! Rating: R Summary: When their weekly plans are threatened,
how far will Duo go to keep Heero's company? A 1X2 Valentine's Day
get-together story...that means yaoi, folks. "The Highest Bidder"
Heero tugged at his collar, an unusually restless gesture for someone who was accustomed to wearing formal clothing in the performance of his job. When he acted as Relena’s body guard, he had to blend into whatever crowd surrounded her—and more often than not, it was a well-dressed crowd. For some reason, tonight he was uncomfortable in his outfit. Maybe it was the fact that he knew he’d have to go up on stage alone to be gawked at by a bunch of eager bidders, but he felt unaccountably self-conscious. He was reasonably sure that once he got out there, he’d feel even worse. He’d be out in the open—exposed—vulnerable. Those were not places a trained soldier wanted to be. “Oh, Heero, you look amazing!” Relena waltzed in with a wide smile and an appreciative leer. Yes, the former Queen of the World had learned how to leer…mainly from watching Duo. The Japanese man grimaced a bit. “Are you sure I’m needed here? Surely there are enough—.” He gestured vaguely at the roomful of men they were standing in. Relena scowled at him, mimicking an expression he knew he used on her when she was being difficult. “There can never be too many good-looking bachelors at a charity auction,” she said firmly. “Between the twenty-dollar ticket price and the bids we get, this will be a record-setting fundraiser.” Heero sighed, wistfully thinking how much he missed that first cold sip of beer and the piping hot slice of pizza he and Duo should be sharing right about then. He felt kind of badly about the brief e-mail he’d sent, knowing he’d disappoint his best friend by ducking out of their weekly “date.” Of course, the moment he thought of it as a “date,” he mentally scoffed. It was just beer and pizza with Duo—not a date. It was an evening of laughing, joking, teasing, and just plain enjoying each other’s company. Nothing more. But nothing less. It was the one night of the week Heero looked forward to unfailingly. He wouldn’t have admitted it to Duo, even on pain of death. God knew the braided menace was cocky enough already. But if he knew how much those Friday night trips to Skipper’s meant to Heero, he’d be merciless in his teasing. He already joked about their “male bonding” time just enough to make the former Wing pilot a bit self-conscious about it. That was partly the reason Relena had been able to shanghai him into the auction; he wanted to prove he could skip the weekly ritual any time he chose. But he was beginning to regret that decision. And it had little to do with proving he wasn’t hooked on the comfortable routine. It had more to do with how disappointed he knew Duo would be. The other pilot had been gone all week on a mission, and Heero knew when he got back to headquarters, the first thing he’d do would be to stick his head in Heero’s office and remind him of their plans. Then he’d throw his gear in his own office, whip up a post-mission report, and change into his street clothes in the men’s room. Before long, he’d be bouncing impatiently in the doorway, coaxing Heero away from the desk he seemed to spend far too much time at. “Baka,” Heero murmured under his breath, unable to keep a wistful smile off his face at the thought of his overeager friend. “What was that?” Relena asked, straightening Heero’s tie and studying his face critically. “Nothing.” She ran her fingers through the front of his hair, mussing it slightly. “Oh—much better! Leave it!” She slapped the hand he raised with the intention of smoothing the unruly locks. “Relena—.” “It makes you look dashing!” she assured him. “Now try to manage a smile out there—or the closest approximation you can, hm?” He sighed and nodded, and Relena dashed off to resume her duties as the fundraising coordinator. A man with a clipboard came in, shuffling the pages, and looking a bit harried. He was muttering about “last-minute changes to the lineup,” and scowling at his papers. “All right, boys. Let’s line up for the ‘Parade of Partners.’ You’ll proceed out that door over there, once around the ballroom, and then back in here, at which point you’ll be called out singly for the bidding.” God, what have I gotten myself into? Heero resisted the urge to run a hand down his face in utter despair. They were to be paraded about, like so much prime beef? He’d never felt quite so degraded in his life.
Duo jumped out, glancing at his watch and grimacing as he saw that he was nearly thirty minutes late. He just hoped Heero hadn’t been the first man on the auction block. “Just park the fuckin’ thing,” he snarled at the valet, shoving the key and a twenty into the man’s hand. The valet was more impressed with the shoulder holster under the open suit coat, and the well-worn weapon it contained, than he was with the tip. “Y-yes—sir.” Duo darted inside, heading for the main desk. He cut quickly in line, flashing his Preventers badge and giving the startled clerk an intimidating glare. “Where would I find the charity auction?” “Through those doors and down the hall. There’s signs posted.” “Thanks.” Duo walked as quickly as he could, without alarming people, and soon made his way to the grand ballroom. He bought his ticket at the door, ignoring the curious look the woman gave him, and stepped through the door. Once inside, he quickly scanned the crowd, seeing Relena at the head table, up near the small stage. The audience itself was composed mainly of women—with a small scattering of men who’d probably been lured in as unsuspecting guests or curious spectators. There appeared to be no seats left, and in fact quite a few spectators were lined up along the walls. Easing through the crowd, Duo worked his way partway up one side of the room, finding an open spot, and leaning wearily against it. Please don’t let Heero be gone already! There was no sign of the Japanese man, and Duo studied the auctioneer and the current victim on the stage. He was a tall, very handsome man, with curly blonde hair. He had almost the same elegant air that Milliardo Peacecraft possessed, and Duo raised an eyebrow, impressed by the quality of the “merchandise.” But the appreciative “oohs” and “aahs” of the crowd made the braided man want to cringe. God! Nothing like a roomful of lusting females to strike fear into the heart of one gay Preventer. An hour later, he was trying not to yawn, exhausted from a week of intense work, and bored with the bidding process. Until Heero came up for sale, he had no real interest in the string of bachelors parading across the stage. When he heard a small giggle, he looked over to see a couple of the girls in the audience eyeing him speculatively, and he carefully looked away, hoping they wouldn’t get ideas. He had yet to catch Relena’s eye, though he’d tried a time or two, and so he was clueless as to whether he’d missed Heero. But with most of the bachelors going for a few hundred dollars, he relaxed a bit, sure that Quatre’s money would guarantee his victory if and when his best buddy was auctioned off. “…and now for the last gentleman of the evening,” the auctioneer announced with a flourish. “And I’m sure you ladies will compete viciously for this one. The record bid at this event was set last year at twenty-two hundred. Shall we see if that record is broken tonight?” Duo had a moment of panic. The last one? Heero must have been auctioned off earlier! But then a very familiar figure walked stoically across the stage to stand almost at attention next to the auctioneer. Tousled brown hair framed that chiseled face, and shrouded the intense blue eyes; but as usual, Heero took Duo’s breath away. Beautiful as ever… “This is Heero Yuy…one of the Preventers’ finest, and bodyguard to our Prime Minister.” He gave an appreciative leer. “And who wouldn’t pay a fortune to have that body guarding theirs, hm?” “Fucking hell,” Duo muttered under his breath, glaring at the salesman. It wasn’t like Heero needed to be talked up. A body like that could sell itself. What am I thinking? That’s my best friend up there. Best friend. And I’m here to be just that to him—not to buy his body for a night. Right? “We’ll open at two-fifty?” suggested the auctioneer. Several hands flew up, and Duo winced, seeing women shift eagerly forward in their chairs and reach for their purses. “Three—three-fifty—four! We have four hundred; do I hear—ah! Five hundred—the lady in the burgundy gown. Six? Do I—? I have six!”
“I have sixteen-hundred—a fine bid. Do I hear more for this blue-eyed Adonis?” He let his gaze sweep the room for a moment. “Very well—.” “Two thousand!” Every eye in the room turned to the braided man leaning against the wall, and he blushed under the scrutiny. For an instant, he met Heero’s startled gaze, and then dropped his own to the floor. “Um…ah…yes…er…two thousand to the—gentleman—standing by the wall.” The auctioneer eyed Heero warily, as if looking for an objection. Then he looked even more warily at the braided man standing with his arms folded, looking anywhere but at the stage. “Twenty-five hundred!” said the woman in burgundy, glaring over at Duo. He glared back. Heero swallowed hard, catching a glimpse of Shinigami in those indigo eyes. “I’m bid twenty-five hundred!” said the auctioneer, sounding relieved. “A new record! Going—.” “Three thousand,” Duo said firmly, his voice carrying across the room loud enough to be heard over the startled murmurs. “Three—? Er, yes! I have three thousand. Do I hear thirty-one hundred?” “Thirty-five hundred!” Fuck. Burgundy lady hadn’t given up yet. Duo resisted the urge to flip her the finger—or toss one of his knives at her. “Four thousand,” he said with finality. He dared a glance at Heero, who was open-mouthed in astonishment, all pretense of his emotionless mask gone. Relena looked, if possible, more stunned than Heero, her gaze shifting between him, the braided man, and Miss Burgundy Dress. “Forty-five hundred!” snapped the woman, standing and turning to face Duo. He shot her a perfectly deadly look, and in the rapt silence that filled the banquet hall said, “Five thousand.” A hushed murmur of awe ran through the crowd, and the woman in burgundy swallowed visibly—seething with anger. Heero closed his eyes, unable to watch the spectacle any longer. His heart was pounding unnaturally hard, though he couldn’t quite pinpoint the cause, and he held his breath, wanting the whole damned debacle over with as soon as possible. Why in Hell was Duo doing this? What was he doing, for that matter? And where was he getting the money for it? Duo unobtrusively crossed his fingers as the auctioneer looked from him to the woman and back again, obviously waiting for a counter offer. “Going once…going twice…” “Fifty-five hundred!” blurted the woman. Duo winced, and she grinned nastily, sensing victory. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Duo thought furiously. He had some money put away towards the purchase of his dream motorcycle. He and Heero had seen it several months earlier, and while Duo had fallen instantly in love, Heero had advised against it. “You have a hazardous enough job, Duo. You don’t need to risk life and limb getting to and from it on a flying death trap!” But it was a seriously gorgeous death trap—sleek and black and shiny—low to the ground and streamlined for speed. And Duo could already envision a scythe and the words “God of Death” airbrushed onto the fuel tank. He had nearly four thousand dollars put away towards the purchase. And in fact, he’d planned to use part of it to pay Quatre’s loan back, figuring he’d only need about half to purchase Heero’s freedom. Now, if he dared dip into his savings, he’d have to use all that remained and then some to reimburse Quatre. “…once…going twice…and s—.” “Sixty-five hundred!” Duo blurted desperately, glaring at the woman and fingering the sleeve that covered his wrist sheath. Heero’s eyes snapped back open at that, disbelief written across his face as he watched Shinigami stare down the woman, daring her to speak again. She stared back, opening and closing her mouth indecisively. The auctioneer was sweating profusely, his worried gaze darting between the combatants. “Th-this is—unprecedented—.” Heero elbowed him firmly in the ribs, giving him a deadly glare and a nod to go ahead. “Oh. Right. I have sixty-five hundred. Do I hear—?” Heero elbowed him harder. “Uh…going once…going twice…sold! To the gentleman with the, er, braid. And that concludes our charity auction. Winning bids may be paid to Prime Minister Peacecraft, who has graciously offered to be our treasurer for this event. Our winners will receive a claim ticket and may then proceed to the next room to meet their, erm, purchases.” Heero was still staring in perplexity at Duo, who seemed to be avoiding his gaze as he headed for the line gathering at Relena’s table. “You need to go back with the other auctionees, sir,” suggested the auctioneer, drawing a sleeve across his forehead. “You’ll get to meet your buyer shortly.” “We’ve met,” Heero said flatly, turning and heading for the backstage area. He didn’t know exactly what had just happened. How did Duo even know where to find him, and why had he bid in the first place? More to the point, why had he bid such an outrageous amount? Growling under his breath, the former Wing pilot vowed to get his answers the minute Maxwell showed up for their “date.”
It took quite a while, as Duo was last in line. But when he reached the table, Relena looked up with a smile. “Duo…I see you got my message.” “Yeah—all of two hours ago.” Her smile turned a bit coy. “You must have just about killed yourself getting over here.” He gave a slightly snide smirk in return. “Wishful thinking, Princess?” “Not at all. I know how important your Friday night get-togethers are to you, and to Heero.” She gave him a searching look. “I wonder though. Do you?” “Huh?” “You just spent a small fortune so you could have your weekly time with Heero. Does it mean that much to you?” He scowled, looking down as he counted out the bills Quatre had given him. “Look, ‘Lena—I’ve got five grand in cash. I can either write you a check for the rest, or run to the nearest ATM.” “Of course I’ll take a check,” Relena assured him. She gave a little wink. “You’re lucky I’m the treasurer, and that I trust you.” Duo gave her the cash and check, and looked around restlessly while she filled out a receipt. Now that he’d won Heero’s freedom, all he wanted was to get out of the posh surroundings and relax. “Duo.” He looked up into stern blue eyes as Relena handed him his receipt and claim slip. “Don’t waste this opportunity,” she advised. “Opportunity?” “To tell him how you feel—about him. After all, it is Valentine’s Day.” He scowled at her dangerously. “Look—I just came here to salvage his evening, and the feelings of whatever silly woman might’ve gotten stuck with a blunt, short-tempered, still-deadly ex-Gundam pilot.” “You sound a bit like Wufei,” Relena teased. “I’ve survived Heero’s temper and directness for years. You sell women short.” “You aren’t like most women,” Duo countered. The Prime Minister gave him a sharp look. “I’m not sure that’s very flattering…” “Believe me—it’s a huge compliment,” Duo told her. “You have a level of understanding and tolerance most women lack—at least when it comes to ex-soldiers.” “And you have a level of obliviousness the likes of which I’ve never seen, when it comes to one particular ex-soldier,” Relena retorted. “Now go collect your prize, enjoy the romantic dinner for two, and stop being afraid to let a glimmer of your true feelings show through.” Duo eyed her warily. “I like my head right where it is, ‘Lena. On my shoulders, rather than blown clear across the room.” She gave a very Heero-like growl of frustration. “Duo Maxwell, you are the most stubborn ass I’ve ever met—second only to the illustrious Heero Yuy! You deserve each other!” She stood up and stomped away before he could reply. “Duo?” He spun sharply, to see Heero stepping out of the adjoining room, and sudden panic gripped him. “Uh, hi ‘Ro.” He glanced around at the thinning crowd. “Hi.” Heero stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking a bit uneasy. “So, this is where I’m supposed to introduce myself to my owner for the evening…” “Shit, no!” Duo said hastily, taking a step towards his friend. “I’m not your—. I don’t—own you.” Only in my dreams… Heero gave a wry smile, regaining some of his poise. “You paid sixty-five hundred dollars for me. I’d say that makes you my owner…at least until midnight.” Duo shifted his weight from foot to foot, looking down at the floor. “I suppose you’re wondering why I did that, huh?” He managed a weak chuckle. “How ‘bout I explain it over a beer at Skipper’s?” Heero shook his head, blue eyes glimmering with apparent amusement. “Sorry, but Skipper’s is out of the question tonight. Part of your purchase included dinner for two at the Starlight Ballroom,” he explained, jerking a thumb upwards to indicate the five-star restaurant on the top floor of the Hilton. “Seriously?” Duo gaped. “Hell, ‘Ro. I haven’t been to a restaurant that fancy since Quatre dragged us all to that place on the top of that tower building. You know ritzy places give me hives.” His joking grin faded at the determined look on his friend’s face. “’Ro?” Heero Yuy was not, and never had been, a stupid man. And Duo was afraid maybe that quick mind was beginning to add a few things together…starting with Duo’s appearance at the auction, and ending with the staggering final bid. And while Heero might not be sure what that all meant, he had to at least have a clue. Now the only question was what he might do about it, if anything, and whether those Friday nights out meant as much to him as they did to Duo. “You won’t get hives from one dinner in an elegant restaurant,” Heero said dryly. “Why not relax and enjoy it? We might not get another chance like this. Besides, I signed a contract with the fundraising group. I have to carry out my part of it, and that includes a romantic dinner for two.” “They won’t know the difference if we sneak out for pizza and pool instead of caviar and champagne,” Duo pointed out, beginning to get the feeling Heero was enjoying his discomfort. The Japanese man smirked. “But I will.” He offered an arm, and Duo looked askance at him. “Are you shittin’ me, Yuy?” “Package deal,” Heero asserted. “Besides, you outbid the wench in the maroon dress. Don’t you want her to see us leave together?” Duo eyed his friend warily, trying to decide if he was kidding around or serious. Sometimes with Heero Yuy it was hard to tell. But he cautiously took the proffered limb, his fingers sliding comfortably around the muscular forearm. Shit. All the times he’d played pool elbow to elbow with his best friend, enjoying the occasional brush of skin against skin, paled in comparison to how it felt to actually hold that arm in such an intimate gesture. Even with a layer of fine silk between his hand and Heero’s skin, he could feel the warmth, and the firm muscle, and he bit back a groan. “Ah, she’s watching,” Heero whispered, his breath tickling the small loose hairs around Duo’s ear, eliciting a small shiver from the braided man. Fuck but that felt good… Sure enough, burgundy lady was glaring from across the
room as Duo and Heero made their way towards the door. The braided
man took the opportunity to flash a viciously triumphant smirk at
her. And the defeated scowl she returned was worth every penny of
the sixty-five hundred dollars, at least as far as Duo was concerned.
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