With Words

By: The Quiet Minstrel

Disclaimer: Welcome to my AU, 1x2, GW, M-rate fic! Note: this is an AU, 1x2, GW, M-rate fic . If any of those do not appeal to you, this would be a great time to get familiar with your left-faced arrow on the screen. Now, I will say this, "If you haven't anything nice to say, than you needn't say it at all." So flamers, you are especially warned, this is an M rated fic. That includes: language, sex, mentions, consequences and the act of rape, and homosexuality. So! With open eyes, an open mind, and open heart, may I present: With Words.

Chapter One: to Gain that which is Lacking

Heero sat in the coffee shop, his right hand idly holding a pencil over a notepad as he rested his chin in his left. The smell of coffee beans and the sound of people chatting quietly usually roused something deep in his mind. But today it wasn't cutting it. Nothing was inspiring him. Behind glasses he perused the couples again and was looking for something essential, something pivotal that relationships stood on. Mondays must not have been good days for finding the meaning in life, love or loss, Heero concluded, tapping his pencil against his pad. The world-famous author sat, unnoticed by all, struggling with finding his next well from which to draw a story. His own life was of no inspiration, no literary worth, so he had to glimpse elsewhere and vicariously experience enough to write.

His right hand twitched slightly and something hit him. In his life he had not had love, and he had no family or best friends so no major loss. But he had a lack of all of those things. He lacked.

It is so simple to identify when we are without love, when we are without purpose, when we are without those things that society tells us we should have. Yet, it should be simpler to identify when we, ourselves, are merely and undeniably lacking. Is it always some—thing—that has to be lacking…can it not just be us functioning as "the thing?" Is it so impossible that we spend our time obsessed over what we love, what we have lost, and what we lack when it is our very selves that is deficient? Has no man paused to think that for a moment it was not the one he lost but himself? Was it not his lover that was lacking, but himself? Sure, in the movies, in books, in our own speech we say that it is ourselves that are lacking but lying alone at night can we admit that to ourselves? We are alone because we lack? Is there something genetically or socially engrained upon us that forces us to believe our emotional poverty is induced by what is around us and not what we have done to ourselves or let ourselves fall into?

Heero looked up, at nothing in particular and then looked down and reread what he had just written. "I lack," he whispered to himself, tasting the words on his tongue, feeling his mouth move around the letters. Yet, when he spoke them he felt as though he were still speaking about someone that was not him or as though someone had just told him to repeat those two words. "I lack," he muttered again, trying to understand the true meaning of taking the blame, of stepping into reality.

Slowly, he felt his first reaction to the statement and it caused him to sit back and take his glasses off so he could rub at his eyes. He suddenly felt tired as though if all his work had got him here, it was worth entirely nothing. He severely lacked.

"Excuse me?"

The voice was seductively husky and there was a ring to the timbre of the man's voice that caused Heero to look up almost expectantly. He had never heard a voice like that before. It was as though the man was singing but it was clear it was simple speech. The rasp wasn't that of a sick man's rasp but it sounded as though his throat was clogged with passion and in response to that revelation, heat flared up on Heero's neck.

"Are you all right?" the man asked again.

"Hai, I am fine," Heero managed to respond. Was it truly a man he was looking at? If it was, he was the most beautiful man he had ever seen.

Cobalt eyes lit with a smile and full lips completed the expression. "You looked so sad for a moment; I just had to make sure you were going to be okay."

Heero just sat and blinked. A total stranger was concerned for him? "It's nothing," he dismissed, turning his attention away and back onto his notepad.

Duo stood back for a second. What a mystery this man was. One second he looked ready to hang himself to escape depression, the next he looked lost and dazed, the next he looked flustered, the next he was clearly staring at Duo in awe and then he just…dismissed him all together.

"Can I buy you anything to drink?" Duo offered after a long moment, putting his hands on his hips and tilting his head to get a better angle. He spoke slowly with an inflection of humor, "I noticed you didn't have one…and you're in a coffee shop."

Heero blinked. Was it a coffee he lacked or was it the inability to realize he should have purchased one for the sake of fitting in? Was it the coffee he lacked or was it he?

"No, thank you, I already had one," Heero lied.

"You'll have to forgive me, I guess I'm too inquisitive for my own good, but are you sure you are all right?"

"Do you mind me asking why you care so much about a total stranger?" Heero countered.

Duo took a single step backwards and then his smile returned. "Are you always this straightforward?"

"That's a kind way of putting it—most would say inept."

"Ah, well, Einstein did flunk high school mathematics. It's all in the perspective."

"It's all in the willingness to give the time and effort into trying a perspective," Heero corrected.

"Touché," Duo praised, his eyes lighting up with something more than a smile. "The name is Duo Maxwell," he introduced sitting down.

"Heero Yuy."

"Japanese?"

Heero simply nodded.

"Journal?" Duo asked, nodding towards the notepad.

Heero instantly brought the pad into the security of his arm to hide the writing and shook his head. "Work."

Duo nodded and then took a slow sweep of the room. "Hopefully it's not a news article, this joint isn't exactly hopping."

"No, I'm not a journalist."

"A novelist then."

"Yes," Heero reluctantly admitted, careful to answer in English this time. He had found out in the most uncomfortable ways that hai often sounded like hi, a word he was loathe to ever using.

"I'll have to find your name on the bookshelves."

"You won't find it there."

"Ah, so you have a pseudonym. I'll have to try a little harder then."

"Why are you so interested in reading my work?" Heero asked, slowly, unsure of what kind of verbal game they were playing. He looked back up at the man that had the most gorgeous and the longest hair he had ever seen. He had the strangest urge to reach out and touch it to see if it felt as silky as it looked.

"You interest me," Duo admitted without hesitation.

"That sounds awfully straightforward," Heero warned, a tiny smile tugging insistently on the right side of his mouth.

"I'm a musician by hobby and my genre of music does not beat around the bush in terms of lyrics."

"Rock or metal," Heero concluded.

Duo leaned forward, his eyes all but glittering, causing Heero to feel slightly dizzy when he looked too long at them. "Yes, dead on. I'll bet you hate rock."

Heero shook his head. "It's my favorite, in fact. I feel that it, as a genre in general, conveys the most honest of emotions, is the only genre where the individual actually looks introspectively for the heart of the problem—of the pain—and is quite frankly the most sincere in passion. You either have to be brutally honest with yourself or extremely intelligent to write music for rock or metal."

It was Duo's turn to blink and he took a long moment to truly study the man sitting across from him. Never had anyone conveyed back to him his own reasons for loving the music he lived for. No one ever understood why he wrote, why he sang, why he screamed. It wasn't because he was angry all the time. It wasn't because he hated life or someone else. Whoever this man was sitting in front of him understood the deepest part of his soul. A man like that would never come again. He had to do something. After a long moment in silence he finally decided upon the best course of action. "I am buying you a coffee, and then when I get over my own feelings of being stupid and immature by writing my number down on a napkin, I am going to leave and hope to hear from you again. Heero Yuy, people like you are rare and not something to be ignored."

Heero felt like he was watching from a third person's perspective as the next twenty minutes ensued and, indeed, the man named Duo bought him a coffee and wrote his number down on a napkin. Never once did he blush or look away though he had admitted to embarrassment and immaturity. He faced up to his emotions and the risk he ran of total rejection. At long last, but what only felt like seconds, he stood to leave.

"One last question," Heero cut in quickly, almost reaching out to stop Duo physically. If anyone was honest enough to answer it, it would be Duo.

"Shoot," Duo invited, smiling warmly down at Heero.

"In life, when we feel we lack something, do you believe it is indeed a thing we lack or something within ourselves?"

Duo thought for a minute, his small smile never wavering and then he spoke. "I could say I lack your telephone number but the truth is, my friend, I lack the ability to make you trust me enough to give it to me. Until next time," he concluded, turning and walking out with a small wave.

Heero watched him go. Never had a man looked so enticing when he walked. He swallowed hard, trying to imagine Duo up on stage. Certainly, he had to have a big following. He should have asked for the band name. He should have given him his number. He should have been brave enough to give his penname. The only problem was that throughout the entire conversation, Duo was so enchanting, so entrancing that Heero simply…

… lacked the ability to think clearly enough to do so.

(O)(O)(O)

Heero answered the phone and put his coffee down long enough to pick up a pen to continue scribbling something down, despite the fact he was about to have a conversation.

"Heero? It's Millardo. I want to hear progress."

"Mm-hm," Heero merely responded.

"Are you working right now?"

"Mm-hm."

There was a long silence. "Anything you can bring into the office soon?"

"Mm-hm."

"Next Monday, have a piece of the draft submitted to us—we're eager to see what Wing Zero can do after such a hiatus."

"Mm-hm."

Millardo just hung up the phone and when Heero heard the click he stared back at the phone. "Hiatus?" he murmured in horror and anger. Like that son of a bitch had written an introspective sentence in his life. He had no idea what it took to write what Heero wrote. The nerve of that man.

For the millionth time, Heero considered just changing his penname and finding a new publishing house that would leave him alone when he wanted to work and when he needed to think. He sat for a long moment in the quiet of his apartment, Celtic music wafting softly through the loft via strategically placed surround sound speakers. Lately, he was considering a lot of things revolving around his career. He was once told in college that experiencing change is like experiencing death and indeed, a part of you must die to make room for the new. It is a time of denial, fear, anger, depression but ultimately of good. One must always believe that change is good. Yet, Heero was a person of little faith and every time he ran up against the idea of change he stuttered to a halt. In a world that did not guarantee a writer a living, change could be just as much for the bad as the good. He wanted to leave his company, he wanted to break out of his genre, and he wanted to fall so far into obscurity that no one sought him out for book signings, magazine interviews, TV shows or movie contracts. All he wanted to do was write and hopefully reach someone out there who cared.

Someone who cared…

Heero's eyes locked onto the napkin pinned to his corkboard. Duo. Someone who cared. He was probably the second or third person ever in Heero's life who cared about him without ever having read a line of his work. How many days had it been that he had not slept but just continued to write and write and write on the idea of the individual lacking and never the thing? How many days had Duo waited vulnerably for his call? Was he even waiting?

Well, at least it was apparent he was expecting Heero to call. He had made that much clear. Before Heero's mind even acknowledged the notion of calling him, his body had and was responding accordingly. His heart rate was up; he felt his hands get clammy. It took him a moment to realize why he was acting the way he was. He was going to call Duo. What day of the week was it anyways? Heero looked. Friday. Now, he really had to call.

With a sigh and shaky fingers, Heero picked the phone back up and dialed the number on the napkin. It rang almost five times and when Heero felt the need to hang up to collect himself and recover from the fear gripping him, Duo answered.

"Duo Maxwell! Who's this?"

Talk about straightforward, Heero thought.

"It's Heero Yuy—the odd guy from the coffee shop."

"Heero! How are you? I was hoping you'd call sometime this weekend. It's great to hear from you! What's new?"

Heero hesitated. What did he answer first? Did he answer in order? "I—I'm fine and nothing's really new, just working on my next novel."

"Oh, that's great. I thought you might have found some inspiration when I ran into you at the coffee shop. So, any plans for tonight?"

"Actually, no—I just sort of woke up from my writer's coma," Heero admitted, shocked he was disclosing one of his worst traits to a virtual stranger.

"Wow, there is so much about your world I'd love to learn. That sounds fascinating. Is it like you don't even know what you're writing? I've heard that authors sometimes go back and reread their work and have a hard time believing that was them. Wow. That's pretty cool. Hey! My band is playing at The Factory tonight; you should come by at nine o'clock. Open bar, dancing, good music, the works! We play a short set and then you and I can just enjoy the ambiance for the rest of the night. Sound good?"

Heero again hesitated. Duo was unlike any person he had ever spoken to. His voice was low and husky but he sounded so genuinely happy and excited—it felt contagious. Normally, Heero would never go to a club but he found himself accepting.

"Wonderful. I'll see you there tonight. I've gotta head off to class now—I'll see ya!"

Heero hung up and then the last sentence hit him like an epiphany. Class? Was this man a college student? Was he really a kid? How much older was Heero than this guy? Was he just going to school later in life? Heero had a doctorate degree already.

"Oh God…" he groaned, putting his head down on the desk, deciding he was just going to sleep until eight so he didn't have to worry about all the stupid thoughts popping into his head and tearing his sanity to sheds before he ever was able to get to the source to answer his questions. Duo Maxwell, whoever he was, had no idea who he was getting himself involved with, Heero concluded.

(O)(O)(O)

Up to that moment, Heero had considered turning around and going home about fifty times. But the instant the flimsy ticket was pushed into his palm, he knew he had really gone too far. A crowd behind him pushed him through the doors and though his eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness, his ears were ringing with the loud bass that thrummed through his body and the heavy club music that assaulted him. He was immediately aware, as well, of how many people were assessing him. He wasn't sure if this was a spot only for regulars and outsiders were always under scrutiny or maybe he just looked so out of place. He looked down at his outfit again. Heero had tried to dress as neutrally as possible by wearing a long-sleeved black T-shirt and dark jeans. Was it that he had put his contacts in for the outing and run some mousse through his hair that caused him to stand out? His most trusted friend had assured him this appearance was safe under all circumstances. Yet, at the moment, he did not feel so safe.

"Hello, hello, hello!" a DJ called from the stage. "All you sexy people out there, we have the highlight of this evening behind the curtain, ready to go. The only question is—are you ready?"

A huge uproarious cheer broke out and people pushed close to the stage. Heero found a spot in the bar area that overlooked the stage from about four feet up off the dance floor and figured it was the best place for him to observe. Suddenly, his right hand twitched. Should he simply be observing or should he be experiencing? Right here, right now, he had the opportunity to go down there and be a part of the action, a part of the environment. But his feet were glued to the spot and no matter how much he knew he should be down there, he hung back as the curtain began to rise.

The stage lights were a deep red and it made the musicians appear hazy for a moment before Duo stepped into the one spotlight in the center of the stage. There was a smirk on his lips, though Heero barely caught the expression. He was too distracted by the general beauty of the man. He wore a very, very tight black T-shirt with two black leather cuffs around each wrist. There was a large and intricate cross tattooed over his left bicep and his pants, despite the fact that they were jeans, were hugging in all the right places. His eyes were closed and his pale hands clutched the microphone. From that moment forward, Heero was just as lost in the music as he was lost in the surreally beautiful singer. Their songs ranged anywhere from angst-ridden ballads, to defiant lyrics riding along a fast and heavy melody. Throughout the entire set was the slight taste of an Egyptian harmony and the foreign and ancient musical undertone was extremely effective with Duo's husky but perfectly pitched voice that swung easily through notes, ascending and descending with the same kind of ebb and flow as the Egyptian backbeat.

"This last one," Duo spoke softly into the microphone, his smile finally showing some flash of white teeth. "Is for someone out there, different from the rest. Someone who understands that we don't understand. He is the bravest man I know to face our darkest qualities and this is our newest piece, just for him. It's called, 'when I look inside.'"

Heero froze and felt his heart skip a beat. Duo had written a song for him? About him? Though of course no one was going to know the song was for the man hiding in the shadows, Heero felt as though the spotlight had turned on him.

The song started out slow and Duo's voice rose just above the guitar.

When I look inside, I have to stare

Just to see what's lurking there.

I run, and scream, and blame

I want to shun this blatant shame.

But I will not look away,

Outside,

Or any place for me to hide.

Because I know, when you look inside

You find the truths we all deny.

The beat picked up then, sexual, fast, beating, demanding. The crowd exploded with wild enthusiasm.

Tell me what you see,

Behind those deep blue eyes!

I need to understand but I cannot demand

You show me what's inside your dark and secret mind.

If ever there was a chance, for me to face myself,

It's you, with me, and nothing—nothing—else.

When I look inside, I don't see what your eyes see,

And I need to know what sets you free,

To be with me

Only me.

What happens when you look inside?

At times it was hard to hear the lyrics, the crowd was so boisterous. Duo's eyes perused the audience as he continued to sing, the climax of the song erupting in the huskiest scream Heero had ever heard, his groin instantly tightening, his breath escaping in one big rush. Then it died swiftly, the beat dying back down to the soft melody he had started with.

Their eyes locked and Duo smiled, sensually, warmly.

When you look inside,

You see the spaces,

Where there should be things in places.

But when I look inside, it's too true,

All I see is me needing you

Tell me what it is you see,

When you look inside…

…is it me?

The stage instantly dropped to black and the curtains fell swiftly with the crowd exploding into the loudest applause of the evening. Heero just stood, his hands unable to pull away from the railing he was holding onto. In all his life, he had never felt this way. The world as he knew it had tilted on its axis and suddenly nothing made sense. There was no denying the truth in the lyrics; Duo would have never been able to write something so direct about a real person without it being true. The message was loud and clear but Heero could not respond. He could only stare straight ahead, his body trembling slightly, unsure of what to even think.

It wasn't until he felt a hand on his shoulder that he jumped back into reality.

"It's just me," Duo's voice was low and soothing as he stepped up beside Heero. "I'm so glad you came." Was there a hint of shyness at long last in his voice? Heero wasn't sure he heard right.

"That song…" Heero started, trying to figure out what he wanted to say but not even knowing where to start.

Duo's laugh was biting and wry. "It's the biggest risk I've ever taken in my life. I understand that you'll never want to speak to me again—I sound like a desperate stalker. The truth was, though, that I dreamed that song up the night after we met and I just wrote it down…one of my band-mates insisted I put the lyrics to this melody we had and…well…ta-da, instant creeper single."

Heero's eyes locked onto Duo's and there was a long silence between them for a moment. "I have a doctorate in contemporary literature and a master's in historical literature."

Duo smiled and looked away. "I have a bachelor's in sociology and I'm pursuing my master's degree. I want to get my Ph.D. so I can become a professor—sociology is too important of a concept to have students ignore it because washed-up teachers botch their responsibilities. Until kids are aware of society's influence, they can never rise above or challenge it."

"I'm twenty-nine," Heero murmured, looking down at the dance floor which was swaying with couples.

"I'll be twenty-five in a few months."

"My parents were famous activists and anthropologists—they left me with a nanny, a butler and housing staff when I was seven. I saw them only on two holidays each year and once on a family vacation. My father died two years ago and my mother remarried without telling me—we don't really speak."

"I was raised in an orphanage—never adopted. My last name is from the priest who funded the home. My older brother named me when I got my birth certificate. His nickname was Solo, so being as young as he was, he thought he was being loving and smart by putting Duo down as my official name."

"My penname is Wing Zero, after the street I grew up on—Wing, and name, Zero, the name kids on the street used to call me when they wanted to make fun of me."

"I work for the university right now, just as an assistant to a professor. It pays pretty well but I have little respect for him—I want to be the one to take over his job and right his wrongs. I worry that sometimes the two things I want most in life will cancel each other out and I'll be left with nothing. You can't be on tour and be a professor at the same time. I don't know which to pick, if one is better than the other."

"I published a romance novel once under some name I can't even remember."

Both fell into silence and let the music kind of take them over. They stared together out over the crowd and Duo sighed at long last. "It's nice to meet you," he murmured.

"Likewise." And Heero meant it.

"So before I never see you again; would you like to dance?"

Ah, there it was again. Observe those dancing and glean what one can from watching or experience it in its full glory. With Duo standing so close to him, his cologne addicting and his presence intoxicating, Heero hardly thought to deny the offer. He wanted to experience.

A loud, techno/rock song began to blast over the speakers by the time Duo and Heero got onto the floor and the masses were so clustered together, no one could tell anyone apart except who they were dancing with. Duo turned his back on Heero, reached behind him to grab Heero's wrists and directed his hands onto the wide flare of his hipbones against the front pocket of his jeans. Heero swallowed hard but his mouth was too dry for any kind of relief. He felt like everyone was watching him but when he looked around no one was. They were too involved with their own lives, as Heero should have been with his. He was painfully aware of the bone structure beneath Duo's clothing and the way those bones and tendons shifted under his fingers as Duo began to sway and rock with the music. After a minute or two, Duo was nestled firmly up against Heero; his hands reaching back to control the sway of Heero's legs, his fingers resting in the muscular dip next to his quads. The first song mixed right into the second and it was a sexually driven song and Duo was swept right along with it—forcing Heero to move along with him. Their breathing was becoming heavier as Duo ground sensually onto Heero and placed Heero's hands under the hem of his shirt to feel his contracting abdominals. So caught up in the music, in the dark environment, in the night itself, Heero pressed his hips up against Duo's backside to let his partner feel his arousal. The long-haired man's response was to lean his head back far enough to rest on Heero's collarbone and press a single kiss against the base of his neck. Fingers instantly gripped tight on Duo's hips and the long-haired man smiled as they both fought for their own self control, all whist maintaining their provocative movements.

They almost missed the transition into the next song. It was slow and loving and just as Heero was getting the idea of what intimacy their previous kind of dancing involved, Duo turned in his hold, wrapped his arms around Heero's neck and placed his cheek against his breastbone. Heero looked at the couple next to him, followed the example, and placed his arms around Duo's lower back. He realized for the first time that he stood about half a foot above Duo and the position they were dancing in was even more intimate somehow, but an undeniable perfect fit. Heero looked down at Duo to see the man's eyes closed, a small smile on his lips and in that moment, the man who had decided he lacked something vital in human nature, who had never had anyone to love, felt his first twinge of genuine affection. He was pleased beyond words he could put that expression on Duo's face; he was enraptured that Duo looked so natural nestled in his arms. He removed one hand very carefully and used it to sweep back a few strands of Duo's bangs and just mindlessly fuss with his partner's hair for a few minutes as he remembered his nanny had done to him in their quiet moments when she wanted him to feel better or soothed. Duo's smile deepened and he visibly snuggled closer as they swayed and turned slowly to the beat.

The moment was over all too soon and both men decided it was time for a drink. Back up at the bar, both with plain water in their hands, they just spoke quietly about menial things, just to find an excuse to be together. It was an hour later that they were finally interrupted by one of Duo's band members, breathless, crystalline eyes aglow, saying that some producer from a record company had heard them and wanted to sign them the following week. Duo stood up immediately and took a step to follow his friend before he stopped, told the musician to go on ahead of him, and then turned back to Heero.

"I hope…" Duo started out slowly, reaching out to Heero to touch his face. "This is not the end."

Heero stood up and very much out of character, drew Duo into his arms. "Check your back pocket," he murmured, dropping a kiss to the man's cheek.

Duo was fast though, and he turned his head just as Heero went to pull back and their lips met. In the dark shadows of the club, the bass counting the beats of their hearts, pounding in unison, their mouths fused in a slow, thorough kiss, Heero knew something pivotal had changed.

When Duo pulled back his smile was so beautiful and radiant, Heero felt he didn't know how he would live without it once Duo turned to go. They stared at each other for a long moment before Duo looked the direction his friend had gone. "I'll call you," he promised somberly.

"I'll be waiting," Heero assured.

No kiss followed, just the slow parting of two people, their fingertips the last thing to let go as Duo slipped away and Heero let him, knowing that the only way to see him again was to actually let him leave. He sighed, feeling it was time for him to make an exit, and he did.

As he walked out of the club, leaving the ambiance behind, the gravity of the moment finally set in. Yes, something extremely pivotal had changed within him.

He realized…he had just begun to live.