Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Business Proposition ❯ One ( Chapter 1 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

One

"So...why did you call me?" Duo asked skeptically, taking another bite of his sandwich.

"I've...been thinking about you," Quatre explained. "I mean, yesterday..."

"I have an idea," Duo muttered happily, taking a drink from his cup. "Let's...not talk about it."

Quatre laughed at that. "What?"

"You're gonna get me all hot and bothered, and what will that get us in the end?" Duo retorted. "I didn't think I'd have to start doing this until like...six months from now..."

"Doing what?" Quatre demanded, mildly put out at the words.

"Trying not to just go out and get laid," Duo explained. "I didn't figure you'd...just move right along by yourself..."

"There's an order?" Quatre retorted, amused again. "Personally, I don't care for what you think should be happening right now or in two months."

Duo grinned, taking another bite of his sandwich. "I like my order," he retorted. "It means I know the next time I'm gonna get laid."

"Am I that bad with my hands?" Quatre asked, a little disheartened.

"No, but there's more to it than that," Duo noted. "Come on, Blondie, don't...err, I mean..."

"Don't call me blondie!" Quatre nearly shouted the words. "I thought you..."

"I know! I'm sorry!" Duo raised his voice to be sure he was heard. "It came out before I could help it..."

"I'm so sick of people calling me blondie," Quatre grumped in aggravation. "Shit...all right. Since you don't wanna talk to..."

"Oh, don't start that," Duo snapped. "It's not that I don't want to talk to you. Have a nice juicy conversation at lunch, the rest of the workday to think about it, then go home and get laid, you know? That's how these things work."

"You're so about sex," Quatre snapped.

"And you're not thinking about gettin' off?" Duo retorted irritably. "Since that's not why you called me?"

Quatre huffed.

Duo took another drink from his pop. "Just...think about what I said, okay?"

"I know," Quatre sighed. "I'm just having a bad day...sorry."

"Now you're making me feel bad," Duo noted.

"I'm going to read you, and probably be pissed at you," Quatre snapped.

Duo laughed wickedly. "You should read me," he suggested. "Let's have that conversation you were talking about, and..."

"Oh haha," Quatre retorted. "You're a jerk. I have some errands to run around town today...I'm taking off from work in a couple minutes."

"Oh? Like what?" Duo was perfectly willing to change topics. It wasn't like he didn't want to talk to the blond.

"Just some crap I've been meaning to do since we got back," Quatre explained. "I don't think it'll take me until everyone's off work, but I'm not entirely sure."

"Oh...okay," Duo was startled at being put off. "Hey, I really didn't mean to call you blondie, you know that, right?"

"I know," Quatre sighed. "I should have complained about it a long time ago...before everyone got used to it. I'm glad you're trying to stop." He sighed. "Anyway, I should get going. I'll see you tonight, huh?"

"All right," Duo agreed, sitting back in his seat. "Let me know if you'll be late for dinner...maybe...maybe me and you could go somewhere...somewhere nice."

"Are you asking me on a date?" Quatre demanded, amusement creeping back into his tone.

"I like spending time with you," Duo retorted. "Why shouldn't I ask you out? Besides, you're the one all butt-hurt..."

"You wish I was butt-hurt," Quatre retorted, grinning as he grabbed up his jacket.

"That's entirely beside the point," Duo grinned wickedly. "Do you wanna go out or not?"

"Yeah," Quatre decided, looking around for his car keys. "Yeah, that should be fun. If I'll be home after you, I'll let you know. I won't bother if I'm there before you get in."

"All right," Duo muttered, grinning slightly as he grabbed the handle to his car door. "I'll talk to you later, then."

"Yeah, later," Quatre agreed, hanging up.

Duo considered the conversation a long moment, then closed his own phone and opened the door.

"What are you doing?"

He jumped hard, redirecting his arm before he could grab the woman by her throat. "Reg!"

She laughed wickedly and ducked out of his reach. "You're all distracted, aren't you? Who was that on the phone?"

Duo popped the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth and melted out of the car at her. She watched him move, but didn't acknowledge any other hint of attraction she had. She'd told him before that he needed to go home with her, and that they needed a few drinks, but unfortunately he was a co-worker, so she was out of luck...he'd gotten slapped by the end of that conversation, but the woman didn't hold a grudge.

"Well?" she demanded happily. "Who?" she chased his hand as he tried to move the phone out of her reach. She attempted to pull his arm back down, but she didn't have the strength—or the weight—to make it work. It took a long moment before she got exasperated enough to completely drop her legs out.

"I should so drop you," he informed her happily as she dangled from his arm—she was staring at him, but she wasn't falling. "I should make you fall on your..."

"You are not that strong!" she protested, pulling herself higher so her weight was more on the arm.

The thing was...she didn't weigh that much. One-fifty at the most...and he was pretty sure that was a stretch.

Duo flashed her a wicked grin and let her drop. She tried to protest that, but before she could gain her own balance, he snatched her up into the air—and held her over his head, arms extended up.

She squealed in dismayed delight, clinging to his wrists with her hands as the various workers looked to them in alarm.

"I'd throw you, but you'd panic," he noted happily...and carefully lowered her down to avoid that. "And what do you mean, strong? You're a frickin' feather...girl," he pushed her gently so she fell against the car, then moved around her to get his drink. "I was talking to Jason," he added, pocketing his phone.

The various construction workers were still watching them when he straightened and closed his door. They looked somewhat suspicious as Reg waited happily for him, but she bounced to stand in front of him and walk backwards.

"Ivan said you had a hard-on the other day enough that you could stand a foot from the wall and get smacked."

Duo choked hard on that and gave her a disbelieving look.

"And they said you've been having these lunch conversations for a while...I just thought I'd see how right they were. You didn't even see me, and I crossed behind your rearview."

Duo grinned at her, then directed Ivan a very level look as they neared the area around the house. The man flushed and turned away quickly.

"So who have you been talking to? It's not really Jason is it? I thought you didn't fantasize about your buddies."

"I don't, usually," Duo shrugged, then stopped and looked everyone over. They were all watching him still, and he didn't feel like the conversation needed an audience. "Is there a problem?"

"That's what we were trying to figure out," one of the bigger guys noted with narrow eyes. "Why did you scream, Reg?"

"I didn't scream, I squeaked," she retorted, giving him an offended look. "And did you see how high he picked me up? His arms were fully extended."

The guys all exchanged looks.

"We were playing," Reg put her hands on her hips and looked everyone over skeptically.

"Get back to work," Duo ordered the men in a level tone. "If you have a problem with what I do, we can take it up when we're not on the clock."

The men grumbled about that, at least, the newer ones. A new crew had come in to do a section of the house that he'd been solely in charge of before going to rescue the asshole of a prince. They hadn't been sure what to think of him the day he'd come back to work and started giving orders. His men, the ones he was used to working with, had snapped to, and they'd made up for most of the time the guys had all squandered without someone there to give them dirty looks. The new set hadn't taken very well to him, but they all were rather taken with Reg. The fact that Duo could make her laugh and smile in about two seconds had evidently annoyed a few of them—like the big one.

"Anyway," Duo muttered in a lower voice to the female as he started back for what they all called his podium—it was something of a table made from four wooden boxes that had been emptied, but it was where he worked from most of the time. "Things got a little...uh...complicated...with Jason when we were gone."

"On your second vacation that was a little extended?" she demanded skeptically.

"Or to save a prince in distress," he retorted.

"You mean princess," she countered. "You go out and save a damsel in distress, gay or not. ...And I don't believe that either. You just decided you wanted to go back out to space..."

"Get shot at a few times, fly a MS, rescue the prince, and try to screw one of my best friends," he shrugged. "Typical week, really."

"Are you talking about the shit that Relena Darlian was on about?" she asked blankly. "The whole...A0227 or whatever crap?"

Duo stopped and looked at her.

She'd known them since he started working for Victor. She knew they all had assumed names...they'd been on the news. He'd assumed she'd connected it and was just waiting for him to broach the matter to talk about it...did she really not...?

"What?" she asked blankly.

"Do you not know who I am?" he asked blankly, trying to read in her eyes if she was teasing him.

"You're Warrick Temblar," she noted, raising an eyebrow.

"Wow," Duo muttered, leaning against the podium. He relaxed down against it a moment, then looked around. "We need to talk."

"I told you I don't date coworkers," she informed him skeptically.

"I've got a date tonight, poppet," he returned, grinning slightly as he realized it himself. "This is just not the place to have this conversation."

She raised an eyebrow at him, then shrugged. "Okay, whatever you say."

"Good girl," he reached over and ran his hand across her hair and down onto her neck. "And before you hurt me," he said quickly, "I do have ahold of your neck."

She started giggling...and kneed him in the thigh.

Duo choked on that, starting to laugh himself as he hopped over sideways and the rest of the workers turned to give him a skeptical look. "No! No!" he gestured them off. "Don't mind me! I'm just trying to get my ass kicked, that's all..."

Reg grinned down at him imperiously a moment, then turned her head to look at her assistant. "Why don't you show good Mr. Temblar the plans we got," she suggested to him. "I'm going to go take lunch," she smiled sweetly at him. "Isn't that right, Mr. Supervisor?"

Duo grinned at her and rolled his eyes, gesturing her off. "Actually, it's time for a-team to break," he looked up and around. "I can't wait for this to get done," he gestured up at the house. "I'm tired of looking at it."

- -

Matty sighed as he moved back onto the floor, smiling at a woman who was looking at bike tires. "Is there anything I can help you with?" he offered.

"No, I'm fine, thanks," she smiled back.

He smiled more and moved down the aisle.

Honestly, he was tired of working retail. They were nearly done with the stuff they'd borrowed to make the door between the two apartments. Heero'd taken the day off to finish it...and they'd been talking.

It had started out with jokes and teasing not long after they'd gotten back after rescuing Zechs. He'd made them all breakfast a few days in a row, then had supper ready. He'd cleaned the apartments, too, because they were in some...lazy-man state. Duo'd noted he made a good house-wife...and it had gone from there. Heero had apologized to him after the others had all started in on the matter, at least for after Duo and Quatre started making out. It had been Wufei and Trowa teasing him, then. Heero always apologized when they started. Wufei wasn't so bad, but Trowa could be a dick.

The matter had worked around to the point that they all really did appreciate him cleaning up like that, and it was nice to have food when they got in—Quatre had suggested something about non-asian food at one point, and it made Matty grin.

Really, he liked Wufei's cooking.

They'd be fine with him living there if he kept house for them...and that was a definite thought. He hadn't lived outside his father's house before, and this seemed like a prime opportunity.

He sat at his desk and logged back into his account. He hadn't had an overly busy day, but he hadn't been bored yet.

He looked up and spotted a familiar form down an aisle. It was an almost nostalgic moment, really, because that was the same place he'd first seen Heero. The man was looking at the shelves, and then his eyes moved up...to Matty.

Matty grinned at him.

"Hey, lover," Heero muttered, leaning over to kiss him really quick. "I finished the door a while ago."

"Did you?" Matty asked, hopping up and looking around. He lifted his phone when he realized he had no customers, and rang the service desk.

"Matt?" the man working asked blankly.

"Hey," Matty returned. "My boyfriend just brought the stuff we borrowed back. There's no one in my section, so I'm just going to run and get it signed back in, all right?"

"Alright," the man agreed.

Matty grinned and hung up the phone, waving briefly at the cashiers as he passed through the front doors behind Heero. It didn't take them long to have the car at the back entrance, and since they had a second anyway...he leaned over for a proper kiss.

Things probably would have gone a bit further, but Heero always managed to keep his mind about him—he'd ruined all sorts of fun opportunities with that.

Matty smirked at him.

"I'm going to go to work when I'm done here," Heero noted. "So let's not make today any longer than it has to be."

Matty giggled at him and slid from the car, moving to the back door and knocking.

"You get lost on the way back?" Blake, who'd opened the thing, asked skeptically as he looked between them.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Matty reassured him, then turned to the trunk Heero had opened and started to pull stuff out.

"Hey, Max," Blake greeted Heero. "How're you?"

"Can't complain," Heero returned easily. "You?"

"Just peachy," Blake retorted in amusement, moving around Matty toward the trunk. "What the hell were you doing?" he added to the teen. "Tearing down a wall?"

"A good four or so feet across and five or seven high," Heero agreed. "Making a door."

"That's one way to do it, I suppose," he noted in amusement, following them toward the check-in area. "I always just...use the door already there."

"We're buying the penthouse next to ours," Heero retorted. "We had to leave it to go to the other half."

‘Penthouse?' Blake mouthed at Matty.

Matty smirked at him and shrugged innocently.

"One of the roommates is a contractor," Heero added easily. "But he works for a real piece of work who won't let him borrow the equipment, so we just grabbed it from here. Hey," he added, since he'd set his stuff on the counter. He wrapped his arms around Matty's waist and leaned down so they were eye to eye. "Let's go out tonight."

"You're in uniform," the woman checking the stuff in noted.

Matty grinned and pulled away from Heero. He nodded slightly.

"Pandora's?" Heero muttered in his ear, then noted Blake watching them and smirked, moving back.

"I don't have anything to wear there," Matty protested. It was a high-class joint that he'd admired several times over, but...

Heero considered him levelly a moment, then gestured with his head. The teen followed easily until they were at the car. "Here," Heero muttered, pulling out a couple hundred dollar bills from his wallet. "Stop on the way home and get something," Heero whispered, then kissed him.

That, too, was getting interesting when it was interrupted.

Someone cleared their throat at the door.

Heero sniggered and bit lightly at Matty's throat before pulling away and winking at the guy. He shut the trunk, then turned back to the car.

Matty licked his lips as he backed away, then realized he was holding three-hundred dollars in cash out in the open. He grinned to himself and pulled out his wallet, tucking the bills in.

"What the hell?" the guy working protested, reaching over and snatching them so he could see. "What the..."

Heero's car had stopped, and Blake realized he was being watched.

He let the cash go and showed his empty hands to Heero, shrugging slightly.

"Smooth," Matty noted, tucking the money back into the wallet and smiling at Heero. He turned back into the building, running his hands through his hair.

"Did he say Pandora's?" the guy added, giving chase. "Seriously?"

"Yes, he did," Matty agreed.

"And Penthouse," the guy noted.

Matt nodded again.

"And that really was an old-style jag, wasn't it?"

"Even manual," Matty agreed, stopping to meet his eyes.

"How the fuck did you find the perfect man?" the man protested. "I've been looking for years."

Matty laughed, moving toward the main of the building. "I sold him a carpet...and got laid for the trouble." He laughed as he hesitated in the door. "At some point in the fun he decided he liked me enough to be serious, so here we are." He winked.

"So...you think I'd meet a good guy if I sold carpets?" the guy asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

"It's worth a try," Matty noted in amusement. "Let the managers know and I'll train you up for it."

He started laughing as Matty moved back out the door.

Somehow...his day didn't seem so boring now. Hopefully, he'd have someone at his counter, that way he wouldn't have to be bored.

- -

Wufei slumped down in his chair, studying the floor below him. He was the manager for a shipping company, and his job tended to be easy. He ran around telling people what to do in the morning, and spent his afternoons being friends with people. The work wasn't hard, and according to his manager, morale was higher than it had been in years.

None of them had realized how close to an alcoholic he'd become. None of them knew why he had disappeared for...what had it been? A month? They'd all been happy to have him back.

Was that bad? Or was that good? It certainly reassured him of his own ability to deceive people. He'd never doubted that, though.

He shook his head, shifting back in his seat.

"Mr. Cambell?"

Wufei turned to look at Jorge curiously.

The man tilted his head slightly. "Can I talk to you?"

"Come in," Wufei reassured him quickly, gesturing at him. "You know you don't have to..." he trailed off as the man closed the door.

"I was...I don't think anyone needs to hear this," Jorge explained, moving to sit at the couch behind Wufei. The office was narrow, so the couch he had for people talking to him was directly behind his seat and computer—and his view of the floor, but that wasn't important.

"What's on your mind?" Wufei returned easily, moving his chair back so they could sit facing one another.

The guy sat hesitantly, obviously unsure about himself. He studied Wufei a long moment, then shrugged very slightly. "You were gone a while, huh?"

"I had some things to attend to," Wufei agreed easily. "Wasn't entirely my idea, but..." he shrugged himself.

"I watch the news, you know?" the guy added. "It's always interesting to see what's going on in the colonies."

Wufei cocked his head to the side. He was pretty sure he understood what the man meant by that, but he wasn't just going to say he understood.

"Right...Brigadier?"

Wufei snorted slightly, sitting back in his seat. "First and foremost, I value my privacy. My life here," he gestured to the building, "is quite pleasant. I feel no need to run around announcing that when you put me in a military setting, I wear a star. Do you understand that?"

"You really are Chang Wufei," the guy breathed, staring at his face in amazement. "I always thought there was an interesting likeness, but I figured he was just the same Asian stock as you, but..."

"Jorge?" Wufei asked, leaning forward so they could be eye to eye.

"Sorry," the guy shook his head slightly. "What did you say?"

"I said," Wufei muttered, "that I value my privacy."

"Oh!" the guy focused a bit better and grinned. "I understand that entirely! I'm sorry to have bugged you," he started to stand up.

Wufei grabbed his forearm before he could move, studying his face. "Was that all you needed?"

"Well, yeah," the guy shrugged slightly. "I just couldn't stand not being sure anymore—this is amazing. You've been here years..."

"And will remain here a while yet," Wufei noted somewhat pointedly. "But only if you don't go running off and telling all your friends and coworkers."

"I know! I'm sorry to bother you!" the man smiled brightly at him...and shook the hand Wufei was using to hold him. "I'm honored, really...I'll...I'll get back to work," he smiled again, then disappeared from the office.

Wufei blinked.

That had been...unexpected. He turned in his seat to watch the man bouncing down the stairs, then stopping to look around. He disappeared to the right, into the hall.

Wufei couldn't tell if his foreboding feeling was from paranoia or not, but did know he didn't particularly have high hopes.

- -

"Hey," Timothy slid up beside Trowa as they moved down the hall. "We're still on for tonight, right?"

"That was my plan," Trowa agreed, grinning at his friend. "I'd assumed yours hadn't changed."

"Your buddies don't care, right?" the guy asked curiously. "I mean, I don't want to impose..."

"Just be aware that they'll insist we're seeing each other," Trowa reassured him. "As long as we don't go see a movie together or go out to eat..."

"Oh, but there was a place downtown I wanted you to take me," Timothy frowned slightly.

Trowa snorted, leaning over to be in the guy's face and study his lips—it was a maneuver Heero pulled when he decided he was being an ass for the day. "Listen," he muttered, flicking his eyes up to his friend's. "I can take you wherever you wanna go."

Timothy laughed and shoved him off.

"Hey, Tim," Bill muttered, moving from the employee lounge to look between them. "You okay? What's going on?"

Trowa smirked at Timothy—no one had believed him before, when he'd said he was rich and had a penthouse and lived with his buddies. "I said to knock it off," Trowa noted in a random direction to his right.

Timothy started laughing.

"No, I won't sleep with him," Trowa added happily, sliding his hands in his pockets and starting down the hall. He stopped next to Bill a moment and licked his lips with a grin. He sniggered slightly to himself, then turned into the employee lounge.

"You okay? For real?" Bill asked quietly of Timothy.

"He's fucking with you on purpose," Timothy retorted in amusement. "Just try talking to him..."

"When he doesn't give you the brush off," the man pointed out, "then he's telling you those stories..."

"I told you, I met his roommates. They seriously live in the pent...and are buying the second. We're not lying."

"I won't believe it until I see it," Bill retorted.

"Keep your voice down," Timothy muttered. "He can hear you fine."

"He's in the room," the man noted.

"I'm going to have to throw a party or something before you lot get over yourselves, won't I?" Trowa called into the hall pointedly. "I guess Ian won't mind it...and maybe War'll be okay with it..."

"What kind of name is War? Sounds like the riders of the apocalypse," Bill hissed.

"It's Warrick," Timothy noted in irritation. "You know what? Whatever? Rige?" he didn't change the volume of his voice.

"Oh, like he can hear..."

"Yeah?" Trowa returned.

"You get me my coffee?"

"Of course," Trowa reassured him, setting that aside. "Maybe tomorrow, huh?"

Timothy moved into the lounge, giving him a level look.

Trowa laughed. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Why do you fuck with them?" the man returned, moving to get his cup and a donut from a carton beside the pot. "Why can't you just be straight with them?"

"Because they don't matter," Trowa noted, moving toward the couches. "You should know by now that you have to gain my attention before I give a damn about you."

"I suppose," the man sighed, passing him a second donut and dropping down next to him. "You're right, though."

"Usually," Trowa agreed. "What about?"

Timothy snorted at him. "I really wanted to see if we could go to a nice place I saw," he explained. "The...one called Panda or something..."

"If I take you out to dinner and you keep showing up in the evenings," Trowa pointed out, "my roommates are going to try to insist we're seeing each other."

"I know," Timothy sighed. "I didn't really think about it..."

"Let's just do it," Trowa suggested, starting to eat the donut. "I mean, honestly? Duo's so wrapped up in Quatre anymore it's stupid, and Wufei's in it for the laugh. Heero will tease, and so will Matt, but I don't think it'll be an issue."

Tim shrugged slightly. "Why can't you be a chick?" he muttered.

"Because I have a dick," Trowa retorted, shifting back in his seat.

"Hey...Timothy," another coworker named Anthony muttered, moving into the room with his eyes on Trowa.

"Hey," Timothy muttered back, blinking at him.

"You doin' all right?" the guy asked, glancing sidelong at Trowa.

"Tim?" Trowa purred, meeting his eyes before he could respond. "Tell him no."

Timothy snickered and looked around to the man again. "No."

The man frowned at both of them.

"You just coming home from work with me, or are you coming over later?" Trowa stood.

"I have some stuff to do. I'll do that, change, then take the bus to your place," Timothy returned quickly. He'd recognized Trowa's tone. "Rige..."

Trowa moved around the couches and directly into Anthony's face, ignoring his friend as if he hadn't spoken. "If you think I'm crazy now," he whispered in the guy's ear, "just wait until you piss me off."

"You've been following him around since you got back," Anthony spat back. "You can't intimidate me."

"Tr...Rigel!" Timothy started to his feet.

Trowa slammed the man against the door in the same instant, remaining in his face as Timothy started around the couches. "You want me to intimidate you?" he whispered, not backing off. "And truth be told, he's been following me around."

Timothy moved up and grabbed Trowa's bicep. Trowa allowed himself to be pulled back, then looked around to Timothy. "I can just come pick you up, that way it's a direct drive."

"I'll...I'll think about it," Timothy returned, sounding nervous.

"If he's bothering you, then tell someone," Anthony snapped at Timothy. People were gathering in the hall. Actually, they had been since before Anthony moved in.

Evidently they were all with Anthony.

"You know what," Trowa noted, turning to Timothy himself. "I have no idea where you idiots got the idea that I have imaginary friends, or that I'm full of shit, but I'm tired of dealing with it. I'm throwing a party tomorrow night in my penthouse," he looked them all over levelly. "You should all come."

They all exchanged nervous looks.

"Don't worry," Trowa noted, pushing through people. "I'll write the address down and draw up a map—and I'll give you all the password so our doorman will let you up."

The people blinked after him as he stormed down the hall.

"What the hell are you doing?" Timothy demanded of Anthony. He met eyes with all the people who were looking at him. "What did you think?"

"We all know he could get dangerous," Anthony noted in a dark voice. "We just didn't know if you needed help."

"With my friend?" Timothy snapped back, starting to shove through the crowd himself. "Rigel?" he called, moving free and starting after the other. "Rige?"

"Can you stop calling me that?" Trowa demanded, turning on him as they entered his office.

"You said in public you wanted me to use it," Timothy snapped back. "Don't get all pissy with me because they're annoying."

"We're in the office now," Trowa retorted irritably, dropping in his chair and pulling up a multi-text. "I really hoped he'd push me back."

Timothy blinked as a wicked grin crossed Trowa's face. His eyes were sparkling when he met Tim's. All traces of anger were gone, and the tension had entirely left his frame.

"That was kinda fun," he added, half-focusing on typing. "Every now and again I enjoy public displays."

Timothy sat back, narrowing his eyes.

"What? What's that look for?"

"Were you fucking acting?"

Trowa started sniggering and shrugged innocently. He hadn't been, not really, but the emotions had come and gone in a flash. He didn't plan to admit that, though. That sort of thing seemed to make people nervous—it confused the hell out of Heero, but the others...

Timothy closed his eyes, then pressed his fingertips to them.

Trowa sniggered. "You haven't known me nearly long enough...did you know, that without cutting my hair or changing my appearance in any way, I joined the Barton revolution as a spy? I even fooled Wufei."

Timothy blinked, looking up at him.

"Fei was a little..." he whistled and made a circular gesture next to his temple. "I suppose if he'd been himself I wouldn't have pulled it off, but I wasn't so close to him as to Duo."

"Okay, the dichotomy of Rigel the paper-pusher and Trowa the war-god is kinda creepy—the two never need to cross."

"War god?" Trowa asked, his face breaking into an even brighter grin. "I think I like that—it's inaccurate, but I like it..." he ran his hand down his face. "And Rigel is just another alias...another act. A game I play to fit in...it's like being undercover, but my enemies don't have guns, they have cameras and gossip tabloids. I haven't been able to figure out which one I like to face better though."

Timothy snorted, giving him a look.

"So, here in about fifteen or twenty minutes, Heero's gonna show up with a map and the address. Can you make sure everyone here knows they're invited?"

"And now that I see you're not nearly so pissed as you were coming off, how am I supposed to act?"

"Say you calmed me down," Trowa shrugged. "Say I'm in a better mood—but get as many of the dumbasses who think I'm psycho as you can to come. I'm tired of everyone bugging you about me hanging off you," he rolled his eyes.

"I have been following you around," Timothy noted, smirking slightly as he started to stand.

"Mm, once you've been in my bed, you never wanna go anywhere else again."

Timothy guffawed as he started for the door, then hesitated. "It is damn comfy, isn't it?"

Trowa started laughing, and focused on his computer.

- -

Heero looked around the large office are with interest as he moved into the room.

"Can I help you?" a man at a desk near the door asked.

Heero smiled happily at him. "Hi, I'm Max Tsuyo," he explained. "I'm looking for Rigel Eston."

The man stared at him.

"I'm his roommate," Heero explained happily, raising the map he'd drawn. "He asked me to bring this."

A tall man with dark hair stood and looked Heero over as he moved nearer. "You're his roommate?"

"One of," Heero agreed, moving to follow. "His office is over here, right?" he pointed at the area Trowa had described. Actually, Trowa'd told him the layout of the area, and having seen it, he knew exactly where Trowa's office was, but this man seemed to him like Anthony—the one Trowa'd never really liked, and who he'd almost attacked at break.

"His office is right..." the man started as they neared the door.

"Hey, asshole," Heero muttered, pushing into the room.

Trowa gave Heero a look.

"You asked me to come," Heero reminded him, tossing the maps he'd drawn in front of his friend. "I had to tell my boss I had something to turn in from..."

"Why were you at work?" Trowa retorted. "I thought you were finishing the door."

"I finished it a bit before lunch," Heero explained. "Returned the stuff and all that jazz, thought I'd be a good boy and go in for a few hours and get a text from you."

Trowa grinned. "Sorry, I didn't realize you were working or I wouldn't have asked...thanks."

"Its fine, but I need to get back," he turned and almost ran into Anthony. "Excuse you," he noted pointedly—the man shifted out of his way, and Heero bounced toward the door. He stopped, though, looking over his shoulder. "Where's Tim?"

"He's got a cubicle around the wall and to the left...about halfway," Trowa shrugged.

"I'm gonna go bug him," Heero noted...and bounced from the room.

Anthony looked back to Trowa blankly.

"What?" Trowa asked in return. "As far as I knew he was just taking today off." He grinned. "You are coming to the party, aren't you?"