Author's Note: Parricide and parrodent TOTALLY came from Kaeru Shisho. All her fault. She suggested it, and I ran with it. ;)
"Jacob has grown into a fine young man, despite my fumbling attempts at parenting. He and his good friend Aaron both seem to have their eyes on Annabelle, who has also grown into a near-adult. They vie for her attention like young cocks in the henhouse, strutting and preening to gain the attention of the most sought-after hen..."
--excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton
Smoky Hills Part 12
Discoveries
When Duo realized he had an express mail for the Barton place, he knew he'd have to make a slight detour on his route. He'd never make the noon deadline otherwise.
He didn't even question whether he'd drive up that long driveway and brave the wolfhounds. He knew he would, if only for another glimpse of the grumpy, gorgeous Japanese resident--green-eyed barn occupant notwithstanding.
"Stupid," he chided himself, even as he drove up the winding road around the reservoir.
But then, with a little effort, he convinced himself that he could start a conversation by asking how Thor was this morning. Yeah, that was the ticket! A nice little ice-breaker, saving someone's dog. Yuy would almost have to be civil, right?
Well, Duo got a good laugh out of the thought, anyway.
When he pulled up to the house, he glanced around for Thor out of sheer habit. But he wasn't surprised that the big dog was not in sight. His worried owner was probably keeping him inside to make him rest the injured leg.
"Hokay," he joked to himself. "Guess I could probably try for the porch..." He glanced towards the barn, noticing the door was closed, so there'd be no green-eyed creature suddenly leaping out.
But then the image of the glowing green eyes in the shadows of the barn came to mind, and suddenly walking up to that house didn't seem like such a good idea after all. Maybe honking the horn was good enough.
"It's broad fuckin' daylight, Maxwell," he chided himself. "Grow a set and just deliver the damned piece of mail!"
But even as he reached for the door handle, his gaze slid towards that barn, and he hesitated.
"Fuck! Well, fine then. Quat said I could just beep the horn, an' if no one comes, I'm off the hook." He gave a couple of short, firm beeps of the horn, and waited, berating himself for being a coward even as he did so.
After a moment passed, he tooted again, and gave it a few more seconds, before shifting the Jeep into gear. But just as he was about to pull away, he saw the door open, and a man struggling through on crutches.
"Well, shit."
He quickly threw the Jeep back into park and shut it off, so the guy would know he didn't have to hurry. And then Duo jumped out and jogged quickly up the path to the porch.
The man at the top of the steps was none other than the tall, slender green-eyed guy Hilde had described from the gas station, and Duo tried not to gawk, or give the appreciative once-over his eyes really wanted to indulge in. "Mister Barton?" he guessed.
And Green Eyes smiled. "Just Trowa," he said in an almost shy voice.
Duo glanced down at the express mail piece. "This'd be for you then. I just need a signature." He offered the pen and receipt, and Trowa leaned against the post so that he could free up his hands to sign.
"This isn't Thor," Duo noted, gingerly holding out a hand for Balder to sniff.
"Nope. It's Balder. Heero took Thor to the vet to have that leg checked out. And by the way, thanks for bringing him home last night. We were crazy with worry."
"Glad to help," Duo assured him. "I like dogs."
"Seriously? I thought, well, mailmen and dogs didn't mix."
"Totally not true. Gotta make friends with 'em. It's a matter of self-preservation." Duo scratched Balder behind the ears, his gaze sliding over to the thick padding and the brace on Trowa's leg. "What'd you do to your knee?"
"Tore it all to shit," Trowa said wryly, as he signed his name to the delivery receipt. "Took six hours of surgery to repair it properly--an' God knows how much longer until I get back to normal use again."
"Wow. That sucks," Duo said sympathetically, accepting the pen and paper back, and tucking them into a hip pocket. He started to hand over the fat package, and realized the man would have difficulty carrying it and using the crutches. "Um, want me to set this inside for you?"
"Would you?"
The gratitude in Trowa's voice was too earnest to overlook, and Duo shifted uneasily, glancing at the intimidating house. "Sure," he said, trying to sound casual. "Where'd you want it?"
"Kitchen table, probably. That's where I'll read through the five hundred pages of instructions from my doctors, I guess."
Duo looked again at the medical center in the return address block. "Ah. Post-operative shit, hm? Doctors!"
Trowa laughed, and Duo decided it was a very nice laugh indeed. He preceded the man into the house, daring a quick glance at a sparsely-furnished living room, and following Trowa's "straight ahead" instructions to find the sunny kitchen.
"Nice," he said, setting the parcel on the table. "I'd have expected it to be a lot less--cheery."
"Should've seen the day we moved in," grinned Trowa. "Squirrels and mice everywhere. Hell of a welcoming committee."
Duo chuckled in return. "I can imagine. The place was empty for years--" He looked around at the heavy wooden beams in the ceiling and the wide planks of the floor. "It's really old."
"I'm finding that out." Trowa blinked suddenly, as if a thought had occurred to him. "Hey, um--what's your name anyway?"
"Duo," replied the mailman.
"Could I--ask you for a favor, Duo?"
The braided man paused, eyeing the stranger a bit warily, and suddenly recalling all his old fears and suspicions about the farmhouse and its inhabitants. "I, ah, kinda got a schedule to keep--"
"Oh, of course."
Trowa looked so crestfallen that Duo just had to ask. "But if it's something quick--?"
The green-eyed man waved a hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. It can wait. Seriously--I wasn't thinking. Of course you have a timetable to keep--"
"Yes, but, it's not that strict. Just--what's the favor, and I'll tell you if I can?"
Trowa hesitated, but then gestured towards the front hall. "Upstairs there's a trunk I was hoping to bring down. It's not very heavy, but with the crutches--"
"Hey, say no more," Duo said glibly, forgetting for a moment where he was. "I can haul it down for ya."
"Really? I don't want to be a bother--"
"No trouble at all. Show me where it's at."
Trowa led the way to the stairs, and gestured up them. "You go up and turn right, and at the end of the hall, the door to the attic is open. The trunk's right there at the top of the attic steps. I'd about given up on moving it by myself, and then I heard you honk--"
"The attic?" Duo suddenly recalled just whose house this was, and how many generations had passed through and ostensibly died there.
Trowa gave him a sort of funny look. "Yeah."
"Do I--need a flashlight?" Duo asked, feeling a stirring of unease.
But Trowa's reassuring expression settled his nerves back down. Surely someone with such a kind, easy smile couldn't be an axe murderer--right? "Naw. The hall light's right by the door to the attic, so it lights the bottom couple of steps. And the trunk is right there at the top. Just--be careful. The handles are really old leather, and if you use them to lift, they might let go." He shook his head suddenly. "Never mind, Duo. This is a bad idea. I don't want you getting hurt."
"I won't," Duo promised, forgetting his fear of the creepy old house in his eagerness to help Trowa. "I'll just take a run up there, size it up, and if I don't think I can lug it down here safely, I'll leave it alone--okay?"
There was that grateful smile again. "Yeah, thanks."
Duo hesitated at the foot of the stairs for just an instant, and then reminded himself that the good-looking, green-eyed guy was watching, and jogged quickly up before he could chicken out.
The hallway was dimly-lit, but as Trowa had said, there was a light directly in front of the open door to the attic. It provided enough light to calm Duo's fluttering pulse, and he gritted his teeth and kept reminding himself there was no such thing as ghosts.
Climbing the attic steps was a little harder, because it was very, very dark up there, and ascending towards that gloom was more daunting than prancing up a well-lit hallway.
But Duo managed it, his eyes adjusting as he went, so that he could easily make out the nearest object as the trunk Trowa wanted brought down.
He gave a tug to a handle, and hefted one end gingerly, guessing that although it was old, the handle would hold. So he used it to pull the trunk to the top of the steps, and then he eased it down one step at a time until he had it in the hall.
"Whew. Halfway home," he sighed to himself, keeping his gaze on his destination, rather than looking back over his shoulder at whatever figments of his imagination might be following.
Trowa was waiting at the base of the stair, his face lighting up as he saw Duo carting the heavy object. "You got it! Great!" He moved aside as Duo started down. "Watch your step there--"
"I'm good," Duo assured him, his confidence returning in a rush, now that he was nearing the first floor and his smiling host. "Where should I drop this monster?"
"Living room--just inside the door would be fine."
Duo did as he was told, setting the trunk down and turning to face Trowa, dusting his hands off. "Mission accomplished!" he said brightly.
"I can't tell you how much I appreciate--" Trowa began, only to be cut off by an unearthly shriek, which sent Duo stumbling backwards so suddenly he caught the back of his legs on the trunk and tumbled over it, landing flat on his back on the hard wood floor.
"Shit! Are you okay?" gasped Trowa, rushing to his side.
Duo looked up in alarm, not sure whether to be more terrified of the awful noise, or of Trowa's seeming lack of reaction to it. "That wasn't my imagination!" he blurted accusingly.
"No, it was Heero's bird."
The braided man lay there, trying to make sense of what he'd just heard. But all he could conclude was that he was either unconscious, or concussed. "His what?"
As if in answer to his question, a large grey bird fluttered into the hallway and settled on Trowa's shoulder. "His bird," repeated the green-eyed man. "Zero's an African Grey Parrot." He smiled apologetically. "Did he scare you?"
Duo pushed himself up into a sitting position. "Scare me? Whatever gave you that idea?" he snapped a bit irritably.
"Maybe the way you jumped six feet in the air before tumbling backwards over a trunk," Trowa quipped. "Or maybe it was your yelp of terror."
"Fuck you," Duo muttered without thinking. Then he looked sharply up, expecting a negative reaction, and instead getting an amused snort.
"Fair enough," Trowa conceded. "Maybe I should've warned you about the rest of the pets. Besides the dogs, we've got a myna bird, and a parrot who loves to scare the bejesus out of folks by letting out the occasional ear-piercing scream."
Duo rested one arm on a knee, as he tried to figure out how badly bruised he was. "Thanks for the warning," he said dryly.
Trowa laughed aloud, offering a hand, which Duo took, and pulling the braided man to his feet. "Sorry about that," he said sincerely. "I forget all about him sometimes."
"I dunno how--if he keeps shrieking like a banshee." Duo eyed the bird warily. Then his mouth dropped open. "Hey--was he anywhere near your mailbox--say a week or two ago?"
Trowa started to shake his head, and then stopped. "Well, he did get out of the porch once--but he came back when it got dark."
Duo rolled his eyes. "Explains a lot," he sighed.
"Hm?"
"Never mind." Duo looked curiously at the bird. "Does he talk, too?"
Trowa grinned. "Say 'hello,' Zero."
The bird bobbed its head. "Hello, Zero."
Duo's eyes widened. "He sounds like your roommate!"
"Yep. He's an excellent mimic, and most of his talking he learned from Heero." Trowa reached up and stroked the feathered head. "The scream--he knew before."
Duo cocked his head. "Before?"
"Heero rescued him."
"No shit?"
"Nope." Trowa gestured towards the kitchen. "Hey, you want a drink or something?"
"Naw. I really gotta be getting back on the road," Duo said a bit reluctantly, his curiosity piqued all the more now that he'd met the second occupant of the farmhouse. "But thanks."
"No. Thank you," Trowa said firmly. "I really do appreciate you taking the time to help me with that. I'm bored out of my mind on these crutches, and reading helps keep me occupied."
"I'll bet." Duo glanced at the dusty trunk, as he brushed some of that dust off himself. "What kinda books are in something that old?"
"Journals. From one of my ancestors, I think."
Duo's eyes widened. "Cool!"
"Yeah, I think so, too."
Duo would have liked to stay and continue the conversation. He wondered if the old man the kids around town feared so much had written the journals, and what might be in them. But he really was behind schedule, and had plenty of other mail left to deliver.
"Hey, nice meeting you," he told Trowa, holding out a hand.
"Likewise," Trowa replied, shaking it. "C'mon back sometime and I'll show you around the place."
Duo grinned. "I'm here five days a week," he pointed out. "But maybe I'll make a trip up when I'm not on postal time."
"You do that."
Trowa showed him back out, and moments later, Duo was on his way, driving down the dirt lane with a wistful smile.
"Damn, but Hilde was right about the green eyes," he noted.
When he got back to the office a couple of hours later, he quickly put away his trays, and walked up to give Quatre the receipts from his accountable mail. "Hey, Blondie--guess who I met today?"
Quatre looked up with a scowl at the unwelcome nickname. "I told you not to call me that."
"I know. But it fits."
"I don't call you 'Brunettie,' do I?"
"No. But I think 'Braid-Boy' might've crossed your lips a time or two," Duo reminded him with a mock scowl.
"Only in self-defense."
"Retaliation maybe," Duo conceded. He waved the little pink slip in his hand. "Do you or don't you wanna know who I met today?"
"Oh. Yes. Sure." Quatre blinked big blue eyes at him. "Who'd you meet?"
Duo paused for effect, and then grinned slyly and said, "Trowa Barton."
"Really?"
"Yep. He signed for the express mail himself. His tall, dark and scowling roommate wasn't around, apparently." Duo's grin turned smug. "He's hot."
"His roommate?"
"No--Barton!"
Quatre raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"
"Seriously hot," Duo crooned suggestively. "Tall. Slender. But not anorexic-slender. More like a whip--all muscle--but lean." He gave a dramatic sigh. "And he's got the darkest green eyes you ever saw. At least, what I could see of 'em. His hair kinda sweeps across one side of his face, so you can't really see both eyes. But the color was incredible."
"Green eyes," Quatre echoed wistfully. He shook out of his reverie and fixed a curious look on Duo. "What color's his hair?"
"Sort of reddish-brown. Lighter than mine. I guess you'd call it auburn."
"Oh yes!" Quatre gushed. "That sounds perfect. And poetic."
Duo rolled his eyes. "You are such a romantic, Quat!"
"Me? You're the one waxing poetic about the whip-thin hot guy--with the 'darkest green eyes you ever saw.'"
"They were," Duo snipped defensively.
"I'll bet." Quatre teased. "And you probably wanted to stare into them all day long." He glanced down at the scrawled signature on the receipt. "So was Barton nicer than Yuy?"
"Much nicer!" Duo plunked himself down on the edge of the desk, leaning in and smirking mischievously. "He invited me in."
"Really?" Quatre's eyebrows both rose to his hairline. "Inside the 'creepy, haunted house?' And you went?"
"I kinda had to," Duo shrugged, pulling a granola bar out of his pocket and peeling off the wrapper. "He asked if I'd help him move a trunk full of books from the top of the stairs down to the bottom. Said he could drag it along okay, but lifting was out of the question." He took a bite of his snack, crunching happily. "Did I mention he's on crutches?"
Quatre's attention was wholly riveted on his employee by this time. "Crutches?"
"Said he had knee surgery a few weeks back; he has to wear a brace and stay on crutches most of the time."
"Oh." Quatre frowned thoughtfully. "Maybe Yuy's his private nurse or something."
Duo choked on his granola bar, coughing and sputtering. "Private nurse?" he exploded. "Are you shittin' me? Yuy? The guy hasn't got a nurturing bone in his body!"
"How do you know that?" Quatre countered. "Besides, nurturing or not, he could be an excellent nurse. They have to be organized and thorough--not warm and fuzzy, y'know."
Duo waved a hand dismissively. "Yeah, whatever," he scoffed. "But I'm tellin' ya. Yuy's a lot more likely to be a freakin' bodyguard than any kind of caregiver. Seriously, Quat. You met the guy. He was stone cold, wasn't he?"
The postmaster gave a little shrug. "He was pissed off," he admitted. "But then, those envelopes did look the worse for wear."
"Well, I wouldn't have dropped them if it wasn't for that scream--" Duo stopped cold, snapping his jaw shut.
"Scream?" Quatre asked, lifting an eyebrow. "You heard a scream?"
"Oops."
"Talk to me, Duo. What do you mean about a scream?"
Duo hung his head sheepishly. "I didn't mention it at the time, because you'd have thought I imagined it or something--"
"Didn't you?"
"No!" Duo asserted. "Now that we're on the subject, turns out Heero's got a pet parrot--Zero. He got out a couple of weeks ago, the night I dropped the mail." Duo shook his head. "Damn thing screams just like someone being murdered. It's fuckin' creepy as hell!"
"You mean to tell me, you dropped the mail that day because you heard a scream?" A smirk teased at Quatre's lips.
"Yes. And I tried to pick it all up as fast as I could--only there was another scream, and--" Duo stopped at the sound of irrepressible snickering, and in the next instant, Quatre was doubled over, laughing helplessly.
"Gawd, I wish I could've seen your face!" he managed to blurt through his hilarity.
"It wasn't funny!" Duo snarled. "I just about wet myself, Quat--"
For some reason, that only served to amuse his boss further, and the blonde ended up sprawled across his desk, clutching at his stomach.
"Yeah, you'd be laughin' out the other side of your face if I'd driven up a tree and you hadda fill out ten pages of an accident report!" Duo said defensively.
"I'm sure I w-would," Quatre chortled, trying desperately to regain control before a customer wandered in. "What's the term used for 'accident by parrot,' anyway?"
"Parricide?" Duo hazarded.
"No," chortled his boss. "That's murdering a parent. And parrotcide would be killing the bird." Quatre shrugged happily. "We could make up our own word--parrodent--accident by parrot!"
"I hate you."
Quatre dissolved once more, and Duo just threw up his hands in disgust and walked away.
"I'm going home, Quat. You enjoy your little chuckle, why don't you? And I'll just stop by the clinic and pick up some nitro pills for next time I have a heart attack on the route, eh?"
"Duo--don't be mad--"
His plea might have garnered more of a response, if it hadn't been choked off with laughter.
"Fuck you, Quat. You haven't seen the shit out in these hills that I have," Duo said darkly, recalling all the stories that had been bandied about in local gossip over the years, as well as the things he'd heard about from reliable sources or seen firsthand. "There's reasons for the stories people tell!"
"I--I'm sure there are," Quatre sputtered, trying to pull himself together. "And I'm not laughing at your expense, Duo, honest! Just--if I told you I got scared half out of my wits by a bird call, wouldn't you laugh?"
Duo pursed his lips, scowling. "Maybe. A little. But I don't think I'd bust a gut the way you just did."
"Sure you would. You an' Hilde would have me beet red blushing while you regaled the entire pub with the story!" he accused.
A faint smile finally twitched Duo's lips. "Not the whole pub. Maybe just the bartender and a few regulars..."
TBC...
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