Something to Talk About
By Wolf Girl

Disclaimer: I do not have any sort of ownership over the characters or the premise of Gundam Wing. I do not make any sort of profit off of this story.

Warnings: AU, Yaoi, minor Relena bastardization, OOC Heero.

Author's Note: Unfortunately, my grammar and punctuation usage is a weird mix of American and British styles... Enough said.

Pairings: 1x2x1, others... Italics = thought (unless obviously otherwise.

(:::)

ONE: Remuneration

All of the talking in the room stopped when Duo walked in. Out of a fancy dining room full of frills, he had ear cuffs and elbow gloves. To the eyes that raked hungrily over his pretty face, the heavy black eyeliner he wore made his purple eyes stand out. The rips in the knees of his pants seemed to fray more whenever someone even brushed past him. His chestnut hair was braided and fell down to the small of his back, swaying gently with each step he took.

Freshmen prep hurriedly moved her polished shoes out of the way of black combat boots. She clutched her lunch tray tightly to her chest and looked at Duo with wide eyes as he went past.

Duo delicately put food onto his plate and left the lunch line. He found a seat in the corner at a table by himself. He crossed his legs and, using them as a platform, started drawing modified henna patterns on the only part of his arm that showed through a rip in his sleeve using an ink pen from one of the many pockets on his pants.

The chatter resumed. All the raised hackles and blonde glares turned into smiles addressing acquaintances. The tension went back to the neat little tempers which were restrained, but which sometimes broke free.

"What do you mean he got kicked out of a liberal arts school? Can you even get kicked out of a liberal arts school?" Someone asked rather loudly. Duo glanced up. The speaker was an older teen, probably a senior, with ginger coloured hair.

Duo winced as he heard his sister Relena pipe in. "Well, he's adopted, and he was a bit too rough around the edges for the liberals if you know what I mean."

The man leered at Duo, catching his eye. "Yeah," he said, voice low and grating.

"He's a baka." A deep voice said, ending discussion.

Duo could see everyone looking at him. He sunk low in his chair. It was his first day after transferring to the new school, and already he was miserable. The bell rang and he stood up, walking out with his head held high.

A hand caught the end of his braid and gave it a sharp tug. Duo whipped around to face a well-muscled boy with dark blue eyes and a mop of dark brown hair.

"Heero," Duo acknowledged his sister's long-time crush and borderline obsession.

"Hn." Heero grunted back, then walked off.

Duo hefted his bag and started toward his classroom as well. He could hear people whispering things about his appearance and his rumored past. Duo walked into the classroom, and it fell silent.

"If I knew I was causing this much trouble, I might have just skipped class," he said loudly. A pack of girls glared over their French manicures and didn't even bother to whisper their snide comments.

Duo sighed and toyed with the end of his braid, as he was apt to do in stressed moments. He stretched, showing quite a lot of flawless ivory skin, and then slumped over his book, In Dubious Battle. This caused even more comments. "Look, it's a Nazi punk," someone snickered.

"Too bad it's about Communists, not Nazis," Duo shot back pointedly.

At this point, the dignified teacher Mr. Roberts entered the room and sat down to call roll, attempting to look formidable while comfortably arranging his bulky self.

Wilfred Roberts was a white-haired elderly man who taught literature enthusiastically and leniently. As long as you read an actual book that was more than one hundred pages long, he didn't really care too much what it book it was. Of course, you were expected to turn in term papers, so the reports were more often than not written about books not actually read so that Mr. Roberts' ears weren't singed with overly romantic storylines (that happened to be the one unwritten agreement in the class).

"Ah Cy, Amos, Barnes, Benton, Burne, Cartwright, Delacey, Davenport, Dickens, Frank, Gurney, Graff, James, Kushrenada, Maxwell, Mendez... "The teacher didn't pause as he called names. He took for granted no one would skip his class. Luckily for him, most students actually liked his class, and the rest had the decency to show up.

Duo spent the class absentmindedly doodling on a pad of paper, only half listening to the teacher. When the bell rang, he sighed gustily as he looked at his schedule. Gym was next. "I really hate gym," he commented loudly to no one in particular.

(:::)

He made his way to the locker room, finally arriving before everyone else, but only because he didn't have a social life yet, and things didn't seem to be looking up either. He set to work taking off his makeup and changing into his gym uniform, shorts and a tee shirt. His hair he left in a braid as always.

By then the other boys had come in. They gave him a wide berth. A few, including the boy from the lunchroom, stared at him hungrily as he changed his shirt. Duo guessed his name was Treize from what the other boys were calling him.

The coach came into the locker room. "Now boys, it's time to start your workout. I want ten laps around the gym, and if I catch anyone walking, that's four more laps for everyone!" he barked, waving his clipboard in the air as he continued. "Now get moving!"

About fifteen minutes later, Duo had decided that gym was relatively boring with Heero being strangely protective of him. No one bothered him, and he didn't get shoved down during the basketball game. The only problem he'd noticed was when Heero slammed Treize up against a wall and had hissed something into his ear.

All the boys went to the locker room to shower after gym, talking and generally having a nice time of it. Duo felt like an outsider as he went to take his shower, choosing the last stall to get away from all the unfriendly boys.

After a while, Duo looked up from his shower, suddenly suspicious about the lack of noise. His towel and clothes were gone. He swore fluently in several languages, then smirked. Well, if they wanted to play tricks, he would rise to the occasion.

Duo finished showering, let down his hair, combed it out and left it loose around his body. It flowed over his porcelain skin like an auburn curtain. He put on his shoes and socks, then stepped out of the locker room and left, walking to his car with nothing on but his sneakers.

A general awed hush followed him, followed by a loud scream. "DUO!!!!!!" Relena's voice reverberated out the door.

Duo noticed that his clothes were bundled up on his car seat. He got dressed, wincing, and drove off, certain he would get his due from his sister when he got home. I'm already lucky a teacher didn't see me, he thought.

"Mom! I'm home!" He called, slinging his backpack onto the bed in his room, then going to the kitchen from where he could hear his mother singing along with the radio.

"How was your day?" Her mother was peeling potatoes into the sink. She looked up, wispy blonde hair in her face. A pair of eyes to match her son's twinkled. "Set the table and I'll show you what I made for dinner."

Being a cook, albeit a famous one as a profession, Duo's mother seldom cooked anything while at home. They didn't get one of 'Mother's fancy meals' that often, though that was mostly because she wasn't home. That being the case, Duo usually did all the cooking for the family. And since his father only ate dinner at home, and Relena usually just wanted toast for breakfast (she 'dieted'), Duo's skills were considerably limited.

Relena stormed in. "DUO!! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!!!!"

Duo ducked out of the room and ran upstairs. I hope I don't miss dinner, he thought, locking his door and fortifying it with a chair. It's going to be a long week.

(:::)

End notes: Remunerate means to pay an equivalent to for any service, loss, or expense.

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