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"The Wedding Planner"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: AU, yaoi, some OOC, angst, potential lemon(s), sickening sappy fluff Pairings: to be announced, or it’d be too easy (but you know who I like) A/N: This idea hit me while I was driving somewhere, and I needed to start it before the inspiration faded. But it will take second place to Boot Camp and the sequel to Boot Camp, so I can’t promise regular or frequent updates. It’s probably totally predictable FLUFF, so you have been warned. And I’m trying out the world of first-person here, with point of view shifting between Heero and Duo (maybe others…not sure yet). Rating: NC 17 Summary: Heero isn't thrilled when Relena hires
someone to plan their wedding, but once he meets the young man, he's
downright unhappy. Duo Maxwell is friendly, good looking, and spending
way too much time with Relena...Heero's jealousy knows no bounds.
"The Wedding Planner"
Duo’s Point of View Well, that didn’t exactly go as planned. What was I thinking inviting Heero to The Circus? Trowa would be there, which meant Quatre would be there, which meant, I’d have to introduce him to my friends. And I hadn’t known him long enough or well enough to want to do that. I almost cancelled, but when he answered his phone late that afternoon, he sounded so eager and excited that I didn’t have the heart to call it off. So there I was, standing in my apartment, trying to figure out what to wear. It wasn’t a “date,” which meant I certainly didn’t need to dress to impress anyone. But I knew he’d have come from work, and probably had no time to change. So he’d most likely be in a business suit. I didn’t want to dress down so much that he felt out of place. Then there’d been his crack about wondering if I was gay because I wore coordinated outfits. Obviously the guy had never seen me on a day off—when ratty jeans and tee-shirts with rude sayings were the norm for me. But now I felt a little self-conscious about wearing my “work clothes” for a night out with him. And at this point, I know you’re wondering why it fucking mattered what I wore, for God’s sake. Because, as I pointed out, it wasn’t a date. But it did matter—to me. So I dug through my dresser and closet, finally picking out a pair of my favorite black “clubbing” pants. They were classy, comfortable, and flattering. (Hey, just ‘cause I was gonna be there with Yuy didn’t mean I wanted to discourage any likely prospects from looking.) And when I wore them with that dark blue shirt that brought out the color of my eyes, I felt like a million bucks. Alex always liked me in blue. So did Solo. And damned if that thought didn’t stop me cold halfway through buttoning the shirt. I almost took it off and changed; I actually got as far as pulling a deep red skin-tight turtle neck out of a drawer before common sense kicked in and I dropped it on my bed and resumed buttoning the blue one. I was determined not to let my past rule the present. It wasn’t always easy, especially if someone made mention of my past relationships. But as Quatre had pointed out to me just a couple of days earlier, I’d tried to adopt a motto of “live for the moment.” I knew damn well that neither of my lovers would have wanted me to do less. They sure as hell wouldn’t have wanted me to pine for them the rest of my life. And I tried to respect their wishes. I tried to give new relationships a chance. But, damn, Solo and Alex were a tough act to follow. Any guy who could compare to those two would have to be a veritable God. I hadn’t met any of those recently…but that didn’t mean tonight wasn’t the night. So in addition to my favorite outfit, I donned my most optimistic outlook, combed and rebraided my hair, and headed out to have a good time even if it killed me. By the time I got to The Circus, I’d settled down, and bounced back from my little bout of melancholy. I strutted in the door like I owned the place, and gave my boss’ much-lusted-after bartender a wide grin and a wink. “Hey, Tro’. How’s tricks?” The auburn-haired bartender glanced up from under the swath of bangs across his face, and smirked a little sheepishly. “Okay.” Yeah, he knew I knew he was “with” Quatre. And I couldn’t resist teasing. “Where’s the little blonde bombshell who likes the obscene cocktails.” And, yeah, I did put a little extra emphasis on the first syllable of that last word. So sue me. “He’ll probably be here any time.” As he said the words, Trowa glanced towards the door, his green eyes warming. Quatre whipped past me at just under the speed of light, and met the bartender as he was coming out from behind the counter. “Hey, love!” He sank into an intimate embrace, raising his face so Trowa could kiss him deeply. “Ahem,” I said pointedly, tapping a foot to get their attention. Quatre ignored me for a moment, and then pulled back without turning away from the adoring gaze of his boyfriend. “Hey, Duo.” “Hey, Quat.” He kissed his sweetheart again, lingering over it until I had to resist the urge to throw peanuts at them from the bowl on the counter. “Jesus…what’s it take to get a drink in this place?” I demanded. “D’you have to French the bartender for it?” Quatre smoothly and subtly flipped me the finger from behind Trowa’s back, and then finally looked over at me. “Whoa! Duo! Who’d you dress up for?” “What?!” I squawked, feeling the heat on my cheeks. “Nobody. I’m not dressed up! Fuck, Quatre, can’t a guy just put on clothes he’s comfortable in without being accused of something?” “I haven’t seen you wear that outfit since you gave up drinking,” he pointed out. “Not true! I wore it when…when…” Well, come to think of it, I guess it had been awhile since I wore that particular ensemble. “Y’know what, Quat? Fuck off!” He grinned cheekily, and whispered something in the hot bartender’s ear that made a slow flush creep up his face. “Aw, get a room,” I muttered, walking over to my usual seat beside Quatre. My blonde buddy turned around, leaning on the bar and fixing a most unsettling look on me. “Why the outfit?” he asked perceptively. “If you must know,” I grumbled, “I’m meeting someone here for dinner, and I didn’t want to dress like a bum ‘cause he’s coming from work.” Quatre’s eyebrows disappeared up into his hairline. “What?! Why is this the first I’m hearing of this?” “It’s not like that, Quat. It’s just Yuy.” “Yuy? Your client Yuy?” By now Quatre’s eyes were as round as saucers. “Your engaged client Yuy?” “D’you think I know more than one?” I chided. “Yes, it’s that Yuy. And it’s not what you think. After we smoothed things over the other day, he felt bad about being such an ass, and we decided to just—socialize a little. Y’know the old saying ‘know thine enemy.’” Quatre’s eyes swept my outfit again, and I scowled at him. “For fuck’s sake, I did not dress like this for Yuy! He’s coming from work, and I didn’t want to make him feel out of place…but I also didn’t want to wear my work clothes. So I went for comfort and style.” “You went for ‘sex on legs,’” Trowa spoke up, glancing over from polishing glasses. “I’m a bartender. I know these things.” “Well, shit, man. It’s not like Yuy’ll be the only guy in here tonight. I may as well look good,” I growled. “You look more than good,” Quatre muttered, shaking his head. “Aw, gee, thanks,” I cooed sweetly. “Hey, Trowa, how about something more interesting than club soda, but without alcohol?” While he was mixing up some fruity, non-alcoholic concoction, my cell phone rang, and I pulled it out of my pocket. “Maxwell.” “Hey, it’s Y—uh, Heero.” He sounded kind of—uneasy. “Whassup? You gonna chicken out on ‘twenty questions?’” I teased. “No.” I heard him cover the receiver and snarl something at someone. Then he was back on the line. “Uh—my friend Wufei wondered if he could come along.” “Wufei?” I asked, glaring at the phone as if Yuy could see me. “You mean ‘Mister Background Check’ Wufei?” “You know I was the one who put him up to it,” he said carefully. “I mean, well, it was his idea, but I made him go through with it.” “Uh-huh,” I muttered. “Look, if you’d rather he not come, I’ll just tell him ‘no.’” I opened my mouth to tell him that sounded like a fine idea. And then I remembered that Wufei was his “best friend,” and thought how I’d take it if someone didn’t want me to bring Quatre to a casual night out. “That’s okay,” I said grudgingly. “It’s fine if he wants to come.” “You don’t sound happy about it.” “Quit trying to read my mind, Yuy,” I growled at him. “I’m okay with you bringing the dirt-digging backstabber along.” He laughed, and once again I found myself grinning at my little victory. I’d made Heero Yuy laugh for a second time. And it sounded as good as it did the first time. “Okay,” he said, and I could still hear the grin in his voice. “I’ll tell the dirt-digging backstabber he’s allowed to come.” “The what?!” I heard screamed from somewhere in the background of Heero’s phone. Yes! Score one for Maxwell! I could hear Heero cover the receiver again and mumble something, and then his voice was back on the line. “Um, in Wufei’s defense, when he told me about your past, he also said if I used it against you I was a cold-hearted bastard.” I blinked. “’Fei said that?” “Er—Wufei did say it,” he replied, carefully correcting my use of a nickname. “Oh. So Wufei doesn’t like nicknames?” I guessed. “With a passion,” he answered, and I could hear the grimace. “Well, you tell ol’ Wuffers he’s welcome to join us for dinner and drinks, ‘Ro,” I chirped happily, looking forward to having two stuffed shirts to torment for the evening. “Maxwell—.” “Just get your butts over here, why don’t you?” I suggested. “I’m starving, and I have this list of questions burning a hole in my pocket.” “You listed—?” “I’m kidding!” I snapped in exasperation. “Just stop with the phone call and get over here!” I got a wry chuckle before the line went dead. I picked up the drink Trowa had put in front of me, taking an experimental sip. Quatre was watching me with a speculative look on his face. “I take it your dinner date is bringing a friend?” “It’s not a date!” I growled. “It’s me an’ Heero and his pal Wufei having a guys’ night out.” The pretty blonde smiled benevolently, enjoying having baited me. And then he looked over at his gorgeous bartender/lover and winked. “How about a ‘shuddering orgasm?’” Trowa looked at him with a smirk. “Unless you’re talking about the drink, it’ll have to wait until I get off.” “I’d hope we’ll both ‘get off,’” Quatre smirked back. I snorted my drink through my nose, and Quatre had to pound on my back until I could breathe again. God, those two were incorrigible! Hilarious. But incorrigible. By the time Trowa mopped up my half-spilled drink and I finished choking and sputtering, I looked up to see Heero walk in the door of the bar with a very handsome and exotic-looking Asian guy. What is it with the Asians? Were they all gorgeous? And what had Heero told me about Wufei? Oh yeah. Married. Seemed like all the good-looking ones were. Married or about to be married. The story of my life. Well, shit, damn and motherfuck.
tbc... |
