Author: Karen The Huntress
Rating: R
Warning: AU, language, a taste of lime
Pairing: implied 1x2
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Archive: DHML Archive
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or its characters.
Dance into the Fire
Friday night.
Each throbbing beat could be keenly felt. Feverish palpitations quivered through windows painted pitch-black. Deep bass notes quivered along ebony walls to ricochet off the multitude of sweaty males milling around the sidewalk.
With the practiced ease of someone comfortable in his element, Heero Yuy navigated the human labyrinth that had congregated to smoke, stroke and take stock of potential partners to satisfy their libidinous appetites.
Dressed in stonewashed jeans so tight they threatened to cut off his circulation, a red tee shirt imprinted with the "middle finger salute" and black leather boots, Heero paused to gaze up at HEAT spelled out in red neon letters flashing above the club christened the "Passion Pit".
*********
Now the word passion can claim many meanings.
Fervor. Excitement. Obsession.
Torrid. Spicy. Stormy.
It can set a soul on fire or burn so slow it takes an entire night to cool the embers.
But it will never be chaste and can never be tamed.
*********
Hypnotic music designed to keep the club's patrons in a mind-numbing trance gushed out the solid metal door as Heero stepped inside.
Pulsing strobe lights offered glimpses of ghostly images dancing in a wild, primal frenzy. Liquor dispensed at the bar trimmed in crimson rope lights contributed to the communal euphoria. Ecstasy, pot or whatever poison of choice circulated freely to either dull or enhance the senses and most definitely diminish inhibitions.
Heero stopped at the bar, ordered a double shot of Jack Daniels, lit a Marlboro and leaned his back against the bar's chrome railing to survey the sea of undulating, mostly naked, torsos with arms waving like sea grass.
Nothing changed night after night.
Pheromones permeated the crowd pressed together until bodies blended into a mass of flesh and bones. Identical rhythms pounded in brains and hammered in chests. However the most reliable consistency was Heero's habitual returning to HEAT.
He craved the vibrations under his boots, was hooked on the adrenaline surging through the room. Yet, in that chaotic environment suggestive of an anthill stirred with a stick, he chose to be alone.
Heero was certainly not a prude nor did he have any moral qualms about casual sex. In the past he'd participated in his share of blow jobs in the restroom.He'd braced his hands against a dumpster with trousers and underwear pooled around his ankles or awoken next to a bedmate and couldn't recall his name.
Condoms were always used in every sexual encounter, but after a friend he'd known since high school tested HIV positive he resolved to never again let his cock dictate his desire. The resolution in no way meant as a vow of chastity, but just not screwing around like an alley cat.
A final draw on the cigarette brightened the burning end. Smoke drifting from his nostrils swirled up to join dense blue-gray clouds hovering below the ceiling.
Heero savored the nicotine rush then wrinkled his nose at the nasty aftertaste. "Gotta stop this disgusting shit." he declared as he crushed the smoldering butt in a disposable ashtray.
A glance at his watch--11:48 pm--almost the Witching Hour.
The whiskey was consumed in a single gulp that burned all the way down. With just enough brain buzz to be mellow, Heero lifted his Prussian blue eyes to study twin staircases set on opposite sides of the dance floor.
Steel-plated treads flanked by iron pipe handrails ascended to the second story gallery guarded by chain link fencing that stretched from wall to wall. Behind the silver latticework more ethereal shapes materialized like apparitional players cast in a nightmare.
Facing the center section, a lone figure bathed in an aura of dazzling scarlet light put Heero in mind of Osiris ruling over the underworld.
Blinded by the brilliant backwash, Heero couldn't envision details of the man's face. He was also allowed only hints of his slender form distorted by the honeycombed fencing.
Curiously Heero tilted his head to ponder the accuracy of his eyesight and how much the whiskey might have influenced his comprehension.
Maybe the silhouette wasn't a man. Perchance it was a phantasmal figment of imagination, a hallucinatory illusion of light and shadow or perhaps Heero was merely a character in Dante's Inferno doomed for eternity to accompany Vergil on his journey through the abyss of Hell.
As Heero considered the state of his sanity and debated his perceptions of reality, the man began walking towards the right set of steps.
Before Heero realized his own mobility, he was plowing through the entranced throng to intercept the person who'd sparked his curiosity. Midway passed the bar he closed the gap. A few strides further put him precisely behind the object of his interest.
Humid air enveloped the men as they stepped into an alley littered with crumpled beer cans, broken bottles, spent cigarettes and used condoms. It was quieter outside but not any cooler for there was barely enough sultry breeze to ruffle the half dozen white pines clustered at the building's corner.
Finally in the defused glow from the security light mounted above the door Heero got his first good look at the mystery man who didn't seem particularly concerned with his lack of privacy.
Heero had been correct about the willowy frame clad in body-hugging black jeans that accentuated trim hips and a slate gray sleeveless tee shirt that confirmed the man, who appeared to be about Heero's age of twenty-two, worked out regularly at the gym.
He was a bit surprised the by two silver hoops adorning the male's left earlobe and the black cowboy boots, however, what could've never been anticipated was the long braid of reddish brown hair hanging well beyond the stranger's slim waist.
And when the overhead light flowed across the man's face, Heero couldn't help but stare at eyes that were a remarkable shade of blue bordering on purple.
If the braided man took notice of the unsolicited attention it wasn't evident in his relaxed posture.
In a gesture designed to dispel the notion he might be a stalker, Heero avoided direct eye contact and nodded.
"Hey."
The man glanced over and returned a wordlessly nod, which left Heero to speculate whether or not he wished to engage in conversation.
After several minutes, Heero fished out his Marlboros, tapped out a cigarette and offered it in hopes of breaking the uneasy silence.
"Thanks." was uttered in acceptance.
Heero flicked his lighter and shielded the flame with his hand. The man lit up, took a deep drag, leaned his shoulder against the wall and let the cigarettedangle between his fingers.
Another extended interval of silence.
All that could be heard was the muted din of music, traffic buzzing on the street, a siren wailing in the distance and crickets that were determined to out-chirp the racket.
This is ridiculous. Heero thought to himself. You went to a lot of fuckin' trouble to follow him, he continued the internal dialogue, and now you're standing here like a nerdy teenager.
Heero held out his hand. "Heero Yuy."
"Duo Maxwell."
The introductions were completed with a handshake.
"You come to HEAT often?" Heero inquired, wanting more information than the name exchange.
"Haven't been in town but two weeks."
Although Duo's drawl could be characterized as Southern, the inflections spoke a different dialect.
"You're not from Baton Rouge." Heero stated with certainty.
"Nope. Memphis, Tennessee."
"Live near here?"
"About eight blocks."
A resonance independent of the city sounds caused Heero to gaze toward the east. Rumbles of thunder and sporadic flickers of lightning underscored the developing storm.
As moisture-laden wind ushered in ominous cloudbanks, Heero declared. "Looks like rain."
Wisps of hair feathering around Duo's face, he analyzed the rapidly changing weather conditions. "Yep. Guess I'd better be headin' out. Thanks for the cigarette." he added as he turned to leave.
The pines shivered. A yellowed sheet of newspaper skittered across the alley.
With some effort Heero pulled car keys from his jean's snug pocket. "The storm is coming up fast. Let me take you home."
Intermittent raindrops plopped on the pines and painted random patterns on the pavement.
Duo pivoted in place. "If it's not too much trouble."
"No trouble at all. I'm parked just over here."
*********
Rivulets coursing along curbs collected debris then, damned up by partially clogged sewer drains, reverted to flood the streets. Traffic lights warped into blotches of liquid color, headlights took on an unearthly aspect and windshield wipers struggled to keep up with the cloudburst.
As Heero piloted his silver-gray Outback through the deluge, he strained to see street signs in the intervals between the wipers swishing back and forth so Duo took the role of navigator.
"Right turn at Fifth Street, two blocks, left on Ridgecrest then stop midway down the block" Duo gave the final coordinates.
Heero made the left turn and guided the SUV into a parking spot parallel to a storefront bearing a sign printed across an Italian flag,
"Nick's Pizza and Subs".
Sensing Heero's confusion, Duo offered an explanation. "I live upstairs."
"That's handy for a quick meal."
"Yea, except the entire apartment smells like garlic."
Heero slipped the gear shift into PARK and gazed up at three dark windows aligned across the building's brick facade. "Will I see you at HEAT tomorrow night?" he asked, secretly hoping the answer would be yes.
Duo shrugged. "Probably."
"I'm usually there by nine." Heero informed to further plant the notion of revisiting the Passion Pit in Duo's mind.
Lightning zigzagged overhead, the flash granting a momentary glimpse of Duo's face and his odd, but damn sexy, eyes.
After a second's recovery, Heero offered. "I'll wait until you get inside."
Thunder rumbled in a throaty growl like some extraterrestrial hellcat. Duo put his hand on the door handle, paused then gave a sideways glance.
"You wanna come up?"
"You're quick with the invitation," Heero teased. "How do you know I'm not a serial killer?"
A hint of a grin flickered across Duo's lips. "I suspect my virtue is in more danger than my life."
*********
A speedy dash up the outside stairs and a huddle under the roof overhang that was woefully inadequate to protect against the wind-driven rain.
Duo unlocked the door, switched on a lamp and stepped aside to let Heero rush into the living area furnished with a hunter green sofa flanked by rectangle end tables supporting brass lamps with tan shades.
An entertainment unit, set on a diagonal, held a standard television, a DVD player and a cable box. A shelf below the TV was lined with books and a basket filled with compact disks functioned as a bookend. Finally a tan recliner was strategically positioned for optimal viewing.
An efficiency kitchen, tucked away in the right corner, was segregated by a counter wide enough to eat on. Two low-backed stools completed the dining arrangement.
"Sit." Duo motioned to the sofa. "I'll get a towel to dry your hair." his voice trailed off as he disappeared through a door opposite the kitchen leading to a combination bedroom and bath.
When Duo returned with a pale blue towel in hand, he'd shed his Western style footwear. Sock-softened footsteps were barely perceived on the hardwood floor.
"Here." Duo called, tossing the towel to Heero who made a perfect single-handed catch.
"Did ya play sports?" Duo wondered, impressed with his guest's natural coordination.
"Football."
"Quarterback?"
"Wide receiver."
Again a trace of a smile graced Duo's mouth. "Where I come from the quarterback usually got the girls."
Heero swiped the towel over his damp dark brown hair which temporarily tamed its rebellious state. "I never was much interested in getting the girls."
"Yeah me, too." Duo agreed, "Sure made it damn difficult to get a date. You wanna beer?"
*********
"Samuel Adams." Heero commented as he accepted the cold bottle of beer. "You might be too swanky for me."
Duo flopped down cross-leg on the sofa and took a long swig. "The cheap brands taste like piss water, besides what's the use in living if you can't enjoy yourself."
The next hour was spent drinking and exchanging personal information.
After graduating from Preston Central High School, Duo took an apprenticeship with David Moore, a local carpenter. He'd always liked working with wood and soon became an accomplished craftsman. When Mr. Moore's cousin decided to expand his carpentry shop in Baton Rouge, Duo made the move from Tennessee to Louisiana.
Heero had taken a different route after graduation. He enrolled in Midway Community College, earned an Associate Degree in Business Management and was currently employed by Foster Insurance Agency as a claims adjuster, but hoped one day to become a partner in the firm.
*********
Digital numbers on the clock atop the entertainment unit read 1:15 am.
Four empty beer bottles "decorated" the floor where Duo had slid down to sit with his butt on a pillow and his back against the sofa.
Heero turned up his third bottle to finish the last swallow then almost snorted the brew through his nose as Duo continued his story about his and his friend's recent fishing trip.
"Well Solo had been braggin' all afternoon bout how good a fisherman he was when something tugged at his line. He yanked the hook up outa the water and wrigglin' on the end was the biggest water moccasin I'd ever seen.
Duo took a sip from his fifth beer to wet his throat and continued his slurred-word story. "The next thing I knew Solo was squealin' like a pig and clawin' his way up the bank like Satan himself with snappin' at his heels and he didn't stop until he cleared the rusty red tailgate on his old Ford pickup.
"What did you do?" Heero inquired with a similar brew-induced indistinctness in his diction.
"Ah, hell, I ain't afraid of snakes. I just shook the critter loose. It plopped back in the creek and swam off under a tangle of willow roots. All the time I was laughin' so hard I couldn't catch my breath and Solo got mad more from embarrassment than anything else.
Another mouthful and a quick swallow. "I swear I tried not to snicker when Sole aimed every profanity he knew at me, but I lost the battle which caused him to wanna fight."
It took Heero two attempts but he finally set his empty bottle on the end table with a dull clink. "Well did you?"
"Did I what?"
"Fight with Solo."
"Nope. He wouldn't get out of the truck and I was too lazy to climb up the bank."
*********
1:45 am.
The rain had eased to a drizzle, thunder was silent and the lightning was merely a shimmer inside the clouds.
Duo braced his hand on the floor and, with a grunt of effort, managed to move his rear end from floor to sofa.
Heero had slid down in a lopsided posture, resting his head against a pillow with his lips parted slightly and his legs stretched out along the sofa.
It was obvious even in Duo's inebriated state that the young man he'd invited home from HEAT was in no condition to drive. In fact he had doubts Heero was able to stand, much less get down the outside stairs safely.
More than a bit unsure on his own feet, Duo used a wobbly gait to maneuver around the sofa then swore under his breath when his hip bounced off the doorframe as he entered the bedroom.
The striped navy blue and tan quilted comforter was snatched off the bed then employing the same unstable steps Duo returned to the front room.
"Heero." Duo called then nudged a knee to stir Heero from his stupor.
Heero mumbled something that sounded like "fuck off" and refused to budge.
Not to be dissuaded, Duo decided on a different method of tucking Heero in for the night. One boot hit the floor, the second followed with an identical thump. The snap on Heero's jeans came undone with expert proficiency. The zipper stuck halfway down, but a persuasive jerk got it back on track.
Duo grabbed the waistband, ordered Heero to raise his hips, stuttered stepped backward and, after several tugs, divested his guest of his snug stonewashed jeans.
"Boxers." Duo observed. "I would've guessed he'd preferred briefs. Then again bikinis would be nice or," he didn't bother to lessen the licentious gleam in his eyes, "nothing at all would be perfect."
But in spite of Duo's lustful interest, he never took advantage of anyone who was drunk or high, besides what would be the fun if neither he nor Heero remembered their sexual encounter in the morning, no, better to wait until they both were sober and consensual before satisfying his carnal desires.
Comforter covering Heero to just above his waist, Duo switched off the table lamp and resigned himself to sleeping alone.
*********
Dawn's first rays painted the cityscape scarlet but had melted into a golden hue by the time Heero snorted awake. Upon cracking tacky eyes open his mind's initial question was Where the hell am I?
In the next several seconds his sluggish thought process, filtered through a brain stuffed with cotton, confirmed he was in Duo's apartment, on Duo's sofa and---
"Shit! Where's my pants?" he hissed over parched lips that stubbornly refused to cooperate.
Further investigation of Heero's partially nude lower regions was put on hold when his stiff neck registered a painful protest which, in turn, incited a groan punctuated by a potent string of swearing.
Squeezing his eyes shut in hopes the resulting darkness would alleviate his hangover headache, he made a resolution to never move again, however, a full bladder evoked other notions that demanded movement.
In measured degrees, Heero slid down the sofa, sat up and planted his sock-clad feet on the floor. Using another series of carefully calculated shifts and tugs he wrapped the comforter around his waist, tucked in the corner then stood on legs that weren't certain they wanted to bear his weight.
Progressing in an unbalanced shuffle, Heero retraced the route he recalled Duo took to the bedroom where he reckoned he'd find the bathroom.
It didn't matter if Duo might be roused from his slumber or if Heero's intrusion into his inner sanctum would be greeted with a stern rebuke, when nature calls there's no use debating the finer points of etiquette.
Duo's was curled up, his back to the door with only the crown of his head visible above the top sheet. Making every effort to keep a straightway path without bumping the bed, Heero tiptoed into the bathroom and closed the door.
A disapproving frown was reflected back by the mirror when Heero caught sight of his disheveled hair, bloodshot eyes and the dark stubble shadowing his chin.
You look like hell. his mind appraised his scruffy appearance.
"Yeah, it a good thing it's Saturday morning." Heero mumbled at his mirror image.
Bladder empty, Heero splashed cold water on his face and reassessed his reflection which hadn't improved. When Duo was awake maybe he could beg a shower and a shave from his host then, perhaps, he'd look a bit more human.
"Mornin'" Duo called as Heero exited the bathroom.
Pushing up on his pillow, he untangled his frayed braid, stretched the kinks from his back and studied the man skirted in the comforter staring back with a somewhat dumbfounded demeanor.
"I didn't mean to wake you." Heero apologized.
"Don't worry about it." Duo declared, "Having to piss like a racehorse is what woke me."
"HEY!" Heero shouted so Duo could hear him through the closed bathroom door. "Where's my jeans?"
*********
While the coffee pot gurgled, Duo perused the refrigerator for breakfast foods that wouldn't be rejected by his or Heero's queasy stomachs.
"I guess eggs wouldn't sit too well."
Heero wrinkled his nose. "Nope."
"How about pancakes?"
Heero nodded negatively.
Duo dug in the cabinet closest to the coffee pot that was taking forever to finish. "I got Fruit Loops and Corn Flakes."
At last the pot offered up a final sputter and shut off.
Long legs once again sheathed in tight stonewashed fabric, Heero leaned his hip against the counter, filled a tan stoneware mug, stirred in two spoonfuls of sugar but skipped the milk, tested the heat level then sipped with care.
"Coffee is all I want."
Duo tilted his head. "We need to eat something." he decided what "we" should do, "I'll fix toast, even got that good for ya whole wheat bread."
A plate of toast kept company with the plastic tub of margarine and jars of grape and apple jelly. The coffee pot set on a wooden trivet within easy reach.
Heero munched on a slice slathered with apple jelly, Duo had opted for margarine and a glob of grape.
As a proper host, Duo offered. "You're welcomed to a shower."
Heero wiped crumbs from his lips with the paper towel Duo had announced was the "poor man's napkin". "Do I smell that bad?"
"Nope." Duo replied around a mouthful of grape flavored toast, "You'd be sexy in any condition." he added without a hint of self-consciousness.
Heero paused as the compliment took a moment to sink in. "Are you always brazen enough to say what you think?"
"I believe it's no use wasting words." Duo smiled, then finish of last of the coffee. "I bet you guard your thoughts."
Heero nodded. "What I think is nobody's business."
Duo put on a pseudo-serious expression. "Do you think I'm sexy?"
This time Heero decided he'd make an exception to his restricted way of thinking. "Yeah."
"Is that why you followed me outside last night?"
Stunned Heero muttered, "How did you know?"
"I have a sixth sense when it comes to being pursued."
Seconds of silent passed between the hunter and his target while Heero figured how to respond. Duo didn't seem upset, if anything he appeared quite pleased with himself to the extent of being cocky.
Had the gambit of fox and geese come around full circle? Had Heero now become the object of the hunt with Duo lying in wait to pounce?
Heero was so perplexed by the apparent role reversal he failed to notice Duo had crept from his seat and was caught off guard when hot breath feathered against his ear.
"Gotcha." Duo proclaimed huskily.
Suddenly Heero felt cornered, as if a trap had been sprung when those damn extraordinary violet eyes mesmerized and held him fast.
There was no prelude of words, no overture of agreement and certainly no consent before Duo cupped his hands on Heero's face and delivered a kiss so fierce it threatened to stop his heartbeat.
Ever since that fateful midnight hour at HEAT when Duo escaped from his chain link cage and lured Heero down the brimstone path, embers had been smoldering just below the surface. Now the kiss sealed their bargain with the Devil and the embers erupted into a firestorm.
As the room telescoped into a downward spiral, Heero closed his eyes to counteract the vertigo and surrendered to the sturdy shudder that raced straight to his groin.
Lips parted far enough for Duo to gasp. "Hot."
That was all the inducement Heero needed to plunge over the edge of no return.
Clothes trailing to the bedroom bore mute testament to Heero and Duo's imperative need to feel skin against skin. But with two bare bodies sprawled atop the bed there was no hush as hands fondled, tongues slithered and tasted and no tranquil speech as groans and grunts and hissed curses accented their zealous foreplay.
Despite the enthusiastic passion, Duo managed to slip on a condom and apply sufficient lubrication to aide his insertion into Heero.
Yet again voices rose to a fever pitch. With each thrust, mutual petitions for release reverberated over the walls. Finally their united cries of climax diminished to sated whispers and promises of ever after.
The next week Heero moved into Duo's apartment over Nick's Pizza and Subs where they settled into a comfortable routine of work during the week and Friday and Saturday nights playing at HEAT.
*********
Six months later.
On his and Heero's mid-year anniversary, Duo taped a piece of red paper from a fortune cookie on the refrigerator that read:
"Celebrate each step of the journey and the future will take care of itself."
What the future held for Heero and Duo could not be foreseen, but they had vowed to face each day together as friends and lovers who would never be afraid to dance into the fire.
OWARI
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