Changes

By Badmomma

Pairing 1&2, After-series, Duo POV

Disclaimer: Alas, they are not mine.

Changes

The music is loud.

The night is young.

Or at least that's what I've been told.

It's been feeling damned old to me since about ten minutes after I got here. Personally, I think the night couldn't end any sooner.

What the hell is a gay man doing sitting at the bar, nursing an expensive drink, at an /All Girls All Nude/ strip joint? Don't ask.

"Is this seat taken?"

Oh joy. I close my eyes and silently count to ten. Another asshole too drunk to notice that despite the long hair I have no curves. Wait. Let me think about how to answer. Oh yeah. "I'm a guy." I don't bother to look, just tip the glass in front of me and take another sip.

A slightly deep, rumbling voice answers me. "I know. May I sit?"

The guy's gotta be practically yelling if I can hear him that clearly. I don't care. I wave a dismissive hand in the direction of the bar stool. Whatever. No skin off my back if he sits here or at any of the 20 other barstools. I take another sip of my drink and relish the slow burn down my throat. Maybe I can drink myself into enough of a stupor that I can beg off and go home early.

"Scotch, neat, single malt. And a… Jack and Ginger for my friend."

The unusually accurate assessment of what I'm drinking brings my head around quickly, eyes flying open. "Heero?" I can't help but stare in shock.

He smiles, the same half-smirking little smile I remember. "It's good to see you, too, Duo."

"My God! What- What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same," he half chuckles in response, grabbing the glass that's just been put in front of him.

We both mumble our thanks as the bartender replaces my empty glass. "I- I just can't believe it. I didn't know you were supposed to be in town."

"I wasn't; I'm not. I shouldn't be here for another two weeks." He smiles again, I think it might be the fact that I'm still staring at him incredulously.

"Wha-? You were coming and you hadn't told me?" I turn back to the bar, trying to get a grip on my reaction. I pick up my drink and take a few sips. He hadn't called. Hadn't let me know he was coming. He's supposed to be here two weeks from now and I didn't know? That's almost more shocking than seeing him here now.

"I was going to call you next week, let you know once the dates were firm. Something came up; had to rearrange my schedule. I flew in just for the day."

"Oh." OK, Maxwell, don't get all sentimental; he was planning on calling. So what if he's been here all day and hasn't tried to reach you. 'Something came up' he said. Mustn't have had any time to get away. But then… "Hey, how'd you know where I was?"

"I dropped by your office, saw the flyer. Seems I just missed you." He's smirking at me over the rim of the glass. Surely he has something else to say. "This event wasn't your doing, was it?"

"Hardly!" I roll my eyes at that. "I gotta admit, though, I think it's the first time I've wholeheartedly supported Wufei's position on any matter in the last three years." I laugh. Yeah, the stick he'd had up his butt when we were younger had turned into a formidable tree trunk, but I really did think Wufei was right on this one. /I/ certainly didn't want to have to be the one to explain it to Mizzzzzz Noin if Blond-i-locks got a little wild tonight. The scenery isn't the only reason I didn't want to be here.

Heero laughs a little too, and I'm sure he's thinking the same thing as he turns to watch Lt. Commander Preventer 'Windblown' Merquise try to stuff a fiver in some silicone mama's g-string.

But honestly? I'm thankful for the scene Zechs is making. It affords me the chance to look at Heero without being treated to equal scrutiny. He looks good. Actually, he always has, but right now he is looking uber-luscious. He's still got that nice tan going on from all the work he does outside; his arms and chest still look mighty fine straining the material of his shirt. Neat, crisp and clean. So Heero. Probably smells good, too. There's another 'always' for you. At least to me. And damn, but doesn't that remind me of the last time I smelled him. I'd done a sight more than smell him the last time we were together.

Six months. It's been half a year since he was last here. When he'd breezed into town that last time, I wouldn't have guessed that things would take the turn they had. And before we'd even had a chance to think about what those changes meant, he'd been on his way to the next job site.

He'd been in town for five days; he had a site to visit on Thursday morning and would be heading to the airport right after that, so Wednesday night we'd organized a little dinner party. Just a few friends, take out, wine. Everyone had left early, understanding that Heero needed to get himself ready to leave the next day. I'd finished up the dishes while he'd gone to finish packing. We literally ran into each other just outside the bathroom door. The collision somehow ended with me up against a wall and Heero's tongue in my ear. From there things had gone downhill. Or uphill, as the case may be. Jury's still out on that one.

Yeah, the abridged version of the rest of that night reads like a juicy bodice-ripper. Popped buttons, discarded clothing, sweaty limbs, and tumescent members. Not that they stayed tumescent for long, but… It was hot and sexy and wonderful. Damn near perfect. But he'd left at six-forty-five the next morning, kissing me goodbye while I was still in bed, with the promise that he'd be in touch soon. It'd been almost three weeks before I'd heard from him again - an email, telling me he'd arrived home but would only be there a few days before heading out again.

He's looking at me again. A different smile playing at his lips. This one's softer, a little more hesitant. He turns back around a bit, but only far enough so that we're facing each other, his left arm leaning on the bar, hovering close to the drink.

I smile back at him. Yeah, buddy, we got a few things to work out, you and me. Question is: before or after a little more mattress surfing? "When do you leave?" Might as well start figuring out what the time table is; it'll help decide how things play out.

"Tomorrow, 4pm flight. I have a walk-through at nine and… an appointment at one."

OK, that leaves tonight and only tonight. Hmm. "Where you staying?" I sip at my drink as I watch him falter a little on that one. He usually stays with me – though not always. Maybe he'd just assumed?

He takes a drink, shrugs, averts his eyes slightly. "It was very last minute. Didn't have time to set something up."

I nod, hesitating just a bit. "Then don't. Casa de Maxwell always has a vacancy." I almost say 'for you' but bite it back at the last second. Our eyes meet and for a moment I can't read what I see there. Relief maybe? Hope?

I've always known what I wanted, what I liked, and women were never really part of the equation. I'd had my doubts about Heero, but not until his last visit had I really had any proof. We could take this as slow, or leave things as loose, as he needed for a while. No need to rush in; only fools do that, and I'd proven myself not to be one many, many years ago.

Out of the corner of my eye I see his hand twitch, reaching for mine, before it goes for his glass. Slow and easy, boy.

"Thanks Duo."

"You're more than welcome, Heero." I hide a slight smile at the questioning glance he gives by taking another sip of my drink.

We both turn in our chairs, as if by design, and watch the Bachelor Party that is still in full swing. There's a new girl dancing – I know only because she's got a lot more clothes on than the last time I looked. I'd bet a twenty that the top hat stays on until the very end of the routine.

In my peripheral vision, I notice Heero turning to grab his drink, his gaze stopping briefly on me as he turns back. We sit quietly for a little while, maybe watching, maybe thinking. Definitely not doing anything.

What I want to do is grab Heero and take him out of here. Right now. I don't care if we straighten anything out between us or not. I just want him, me and a little privacy. This is definitely not a case of once bitten, twice shy. It's more like crack – one hit and you're hooked. I want more, and the more I think about it, the more I realize that I almost don't care what the terms are for now. This man is my friend, my best friend, has been for way too many years, and I don't think either of us are willing to let that go.

He shoots me a furtive glance, takes a drink and clears his throat. "Does this… party have an end time?"

I smirk mentally, "It ends when you say it does."

The look this time is not furtive, it's sharp and questioning. "Shouldn't you stay?"

"Nope." I take a last gulping swallow of my drink and put the glass back on the bar-top, motioning to the bartender with the universal signal for 'check please' before turning back to Heero. "I was looking for an excuse to leave early. You've given me an excellent one. And anyway, Zechs knows titty bars are not my scene."

Heero stands, tossing back what remains in his glass – liquid courage – then goes for his wallet. A fifty appears on the bar, placed under the empty tumblers. He waves at the bar keep, pointing down to the bill on the bar. He turns back to me, almost going for my hand again and hesitating, instead leaning his elbow on the bar in an attempt to cover the movement. "I'd like to go," he ventures, almost too quietly to hear.

I read his lips. I understand.

Standing, I do what he seems unwilling or unable to. I grab his left hand in my right, interlocking our fingers. Maybe, he's just as unsure as me.

I smile. "Come on, let's go."

The End.

BM092006