[catholic schoolboys rule!] Title: Catholic Schoolboys Rule!
Author: Link Worshiper
Pairings: 1=2, 3=4, mentions of others
Stuff: AU, pokes at religious institution, fluff/sap, angst, lemon topping and a bit of drag XD
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Sunrise, Bandai and a lot of other people who aren't me. +5 skill points if you guess the title reference.

Filling a request for Rainya, because she feeds my geek needs. Thanks to WickedGame for the once-over.

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V.

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Quatre was notably more excited for that night's festivities than Heero was. While the blonde had spent the rest of the afternoon gearing up for the party, Heero had found himself with too much time to think about it and could only feel an overwhelming uncertainty the more he brooded over it. At the time, he'd been taken with the unfamiliar notion of acceptance when Duo had extended the invitation to them, but now he couldn't help but wonder if there was some sort of secret motivation behind asking. Maybe all this unrest was simply due to the fact he wasn't used to being asked to go places with other people his age and he merely didn't know how he was supposed to react. Or maybe he was having trouble accepting the fact that he had read Duo completely wrong. He glanced over at Quatre, who was avidly dragging a comb through his hair. Then again, he mused, maybe not.

"This is going to be a great chance to meet a lot more people," Quatre was saying as he examined his face in the mirror hanging on the back of the door. "I wonder if the rest of the school is as diverse as the group of friends we have already..." he wondered aloud as he pocketed the comb and experimentally unbuttoned the top three on his mint green shirt.

Standing, Heero shrugged inconsequentially, not really caring either way. From his vantage point, he could see himself reflected in the mirror behind Quatre, and he couldn't help but compare himself to the other exchange student. Quatre seemed so neat and put together in his silk shirt and slim-legged pants, somehow just short of glowing with whatever pleasantries made life such a joy for him. Heero didn't understand it and he wasn't about to try; all he knew was that his jean jacket was hopelessly wrinkled, his hair was forever disheveled and the dark streaks under his eyes made him appear lethargic. "I'm taking a walk," he announced, deciding he wasn't able to bear the sight of his own countenance anymore. He sidled around Quatre, blocking the mirror as he opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. Immediately, he felt less stifled and walked forward with a bit more vigour to his step.

He allowed his feet to simply carry him wherever they pleased, his only aim really only to kill time. For a moment, he thought he'd like to seek out a familiar face, like Trowa or Duo, but he was quick to decide against that: spending time with either of them probably wouldn't have been any different than hanging around Quatre while he was getting ready to go. "I don't fit in, I don't fit in," his lips mumbled of their own accord as he moved across the tiled floor, careful not to step on any of the cracks. "What's wrong with me?"

He didn't take stock of his surroundings until his shins bumped into something, causing him to stumble forward. Heero's hands flew out and fell upon the oaken surface of the bench that was obstructing his path. Looking around, he then realized he was standing outside of the chapel, supporting himself on the very same bench where he'd first seen Duo Maxwell that first day he'd come here. Quickly, he straightened and brushed off his jacket self-consciously before stepping around the bench. He lingered by the open archway leading to the chapel's vestibule, his fingers idly sliding across the smooth lid of the alms box situated on a table there, only to hastily jerk them back at the sound of nearing voices. He shuffled hurriedly over to the bench and sat down as if he'd been waiting there for some time.

"I'm very pleased with him, thanks for asking," said an older-sounding male as he stepped outside of the chapel. "He's expressed an interest in seminary school." Heero could only see part of his face from where he sat, as the man was still turned towards the inside of the sanctuary, waiting for his companion. He was tall and thin, with iron gray hair slicked thickly over his long head. There were lines that dented the flesh around his eyes and his smile, and his hands were bony. He wore all black, save the white clerical collar around his throat, which distinguished his profession.

Heero supposed he wasn't surprised to see Mother Superior emerge moments later as she replied. "I'm not sure what the trouble is with the other one," she said, her head bowed. "I've tried everything I can to help him, but he just doesn't seem to be receptive to it."

"I still trust you're doing your best," the man said, pressing his palms together. "It's not your fault if he's not open to the grace of God."

Mother Superior raised a hand loftily, her lips parted as if she was going to say something, but paused, noticing Heero on the bench. Her fingers pulled back and the turn of her lips was akin to her switching gears. "Pastor Maxwell," she said, beckoning him to follow her as she approached Heero, "I'd like you to meet one of our exchange students."

Heero quickly realized there was nothing he could do to escape this situation, so he quickly got to his feet, extending a hand warily when the pastor reached out to shake his. "Heero Yuy," he introduced himself carefully, feeling a bit on guard for some reason. There was something unsettling about Pastor Maxwell, though he wasn't quite sure what it was. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he knew this man was Duo's father. Or at least, that's what he told himself. Heero then realized that he fed himself a lot of bullshit.

"You're a steady boy, Heero... Yuy, eh?" Maxwell said, squeezing Heero's hand tightly before letting it go. "You wouldn't happen to be related to Odin Lowe Yuy, would you? The engineer?"

Heero bit his tongue and instead of speaking his mind, let out a morose, "Yes." Meeting Maxwell's eyes and seeing that the one syllable wasn't enough, he continued: "I'm his son."

"Truly a pleasure to meet you, then!" Maxwell said, seizing Heero's hand again and pumping it up and down eagerly. Despite the sincerity of the motion, Heero couldn't help but feel put off by Maxwell's enthusiasm. He hated being nothing more than an addendum to his father's name. He was his own person, dammit.

Mother Superior was talking to Maxwell again, referring to Heero almost as if he was just as animate the stone statue looming over the nearby alms box. "Heero's been enjoying himself for the most part since he's gotten here," she said, angling herself more towards the pastor. "He's a model student."

"Most excellent!" gushed Maxwell, reaching out to ruffle Heero's messy hair, much to the Japanese student's displeasure. He bent his long figure so he was more at Heero's eye level, and all Heero could think of was Duo's gangly frame and how it was the only thing he could link them with. "Do you say your prayers, Yuy?" he asked, severing his wandering thoughts.

Heero recoiled, trying hard to ignore the swelling queasiness in his gut at Maxwell's sudden proximity. The pastor's breath was toxically icy, like he'd just swallowed an entire box of mints, and Heero didn't like the condescending shape of his eyes. "Well, I can't say I've had as much practice as your son," Heero said subtly turning his head away to focus on the stone feet of the alms box statue. The name Saint Francis was carved into the statue's base and decorated with a scattering of delicately carved flowers. Heero thought the pastoral image was propagandist.

The comment had Maxwell stiffly jerking back to his imposing, full height. "I suppose you're referring to my wayward younger son," he said, the former mirth that had coated his tone melted away. "Don't tell me you've been associating with him, Yuy; he'll drag you down with his debauchery."

Heero's muscles tensed as if Maxwell had brushed a raw nerve. He thought it was unsavory the way the pastor could talk about his own child that way, even if he didn't condone Duo's behaviour. Though it was perhaps a little unfair to judge so rashly, Heero got a sudden understanding of why Duo wasn't such a big fan of his father. He could only imagine what sorts of things this man said to Duo's face. The comment tore him up inside so much, he could barely hold his tongue.

"I only wish he could have turned out more like Solo. I don't understand where we went wrong, giving him so many good role models and examples to live by..." Maxwell went on with a grave shake of his head, addressing Mother Superior again, and the elderly nun nodded her head in agreement. Heero stepped back and separated himself from the conversation, only able to glean so much from his outsider's standpoint. Hoping his absence wouldn't be too sorely missed by the two adults, he started to move away, brooding over what he'd just learned about Duo and wondering if he should ask Trowa to explain a few things to him.

Quatre was anxious and eager when Heero finally got back, though it was clear he was also subtly annoyed by the way Heero had just taken off with hardly a word. Fortunately, Quatre at least had enough tact to also sense that Heero had needed the time to himself and he didn't ask any questions as to where Heero had gone, which Heero was secretly thankful for. The last thing he wanted to do was revisit the incident with Pastor Maxwell; he had a distinct feeling he wouldn't be able to school his malcontent. Instead, he changed into a nicer pair of pants and followed Quatre as he led the way to the party, which was being held in a small club in town.

Heero was glad for the fresh autumn air, which was doing wonders to clear his weighted head. The evening air was chill with a breeze that simply didn't exist in space, and the waning sunlight drenched the world in colours he'd never seen before he'd come to Earth. His eyes were riveted by the long, muddy purple shadows that extended out before their pacing feet, trying to discern his silhouette in the shifting smear of darkness. Quatre's gaze was turned heavenwards, awestricken by the way the stars slowly punched dots of fire into the washed sky.

Their destination was at the bottom of a long stretch of cobblestone road that extended from Saint Magdalena's lofty hilltop to the middle of the town. At first glance, the outside of the restaurant didn't really distinguish it from its neighbours, its faŤade quaint and Tudor like most of the other buildings in the sleepy little village. However, the flickering light filtering through coloured panes of glass fixed into the front windowpanes and the black paint on the woodwork quickly hinted that this establishment wasn't quite as traditional as the others. Quatre approached the door and lifted his hand to knock out of habit, but Heero reached out and simply pushed the unlocked door open before he had a chance to.

Inside the door was a small foyer that was lighted with a dull, pinkish-purple lantern that hung overhead. A perpendicular iron rod that reached out with a dozen curled arms at the top stood in one corner, hung with a rather eclectic myriad of coats, jackets and purses, an umbrella jar decorated with a scenic Seurat painting positioned near its base. There was a large bulletin board fixed to the wall opposite the front door, decorated with festive Halloween shapes and papered with flyers all proclaiming the dates various bands were supposed to play at the establishment in the coming month. Heero hung his jean jacket on the coat stand and followed Quatre through the glass door that led into the belly of the place.

They were assaulted with the atmosphere of the party the instant they stepped inside. A talkative din clamoured above the funky beat issuing from the DJ speakers up on the stage that lined the wall opposite the long, neon-lit bar. A sea of small, round tables were cluttered around the DJ stage, each set with a flickering candle and a pair of mismatched chairs. An overdose of Saint Magdalena's students overran the place, lounging at the tables and the bar, dancing in whatever empty space they could find, or simply just standing around and mingling with each other. A bright grin immediately fell upon Quatre's lips when he took in the scene, not bothered by the fact that he didn't immediately see a familiar face, whereas Heero could only twist his hands uncomfortably in his pockets at the notion.

"I'm so thirsty!" Quatre said loudly to Heero, though his voice was still tough to make out in the raucous setting. He led the way over towards the bar and wedged himself between two girls perched on some of the barstools lining it, flagging down one of the bartenders with a classy flourish of one hand. Heero hung back and waited, not keen to press himself against total strangers.

"I forgot to ask what you wanted, so I just got you a club soda," Quatre said when he returned to the spot where Heero was standing, a pair of glasses in hand. He handed the one containing the clear drink and a slice of lime to Heero, hoping it sufficed. There was no concealing that the amber liquid in the glass Quatre kept for himself was a liquor of some kind. Though they weren't fellow students, it seemed the bartenders weren't being choosy about the legal drinking age, indicating that this party was definitely off the official school records.

Heero didn't really care either way, so long as he was hydrating himself and accepted the drink gratefully. He downed the whole thing in one long draught, not really minding the uncomfortable fizziness that bubbled in his stomach afterwards. Side by side, they stood in relative silence as they scanned the crowd, Quatre intent on getting the full experience and Heero in search of a safe haven to wait out the night.

Heero wasn't granted the chance to really scope a good place out, because Quatre's hand was soon wrapped around his upper arm, pulling him into the thick of the crowd. "I see Trowa," Quatre explained over his shoulder as he dragged Heero over towards one of the tables on the far end of the room.

As they neared Trowa's spot, Heero found that it opened up and entire new perspective on the room, revealing it to be much larger than it initially seemed, a rather plush-looking lounge area that took up the back end now more visible from this new location. Trowa was sitting with a girl with dark brown curls framing her gaunt face that neither of them had been introduced to before, but the rower was quick to beckon the two exchange students to join them when he saw them approaching. "Heero, Quatre," he said as they pilfered two chairs from a nearby table, "I don't think you've met my cousin, Catherine, have you?"

Catherine grinned at the two newcomers, pulling coyly at one of her thick curls. "Trowa! You didn't tell me they were such eye candy!" she chided playfully, swatting Trowa's shoulder. "No wonder Relena and Dorothy are fighting over you guys."

"Excuse me?" Quatre arched his eyebrows curiously, while Heero's expression darkened, thankful he wouldn't have to put up with any of that during the course of the evening.

Catherine let out a boisterous laugh of merriment. For some reason, it was comforting to Heero, perhaps because it seemed so out of place in the darkened club. It was only then that Heero realized that she was the only girl he'd seen since he'd gotten there, and while that wasn't exactly odd, it made Heero question what sort of gathering this was even further.

Meanwhile, Catherine was busy engaging Quatre in conversation. "Don't worry about it if you don't know," she assured Quatre, reaching over to pat the back of his hand like a big sister might. "They're just being girly over the fresh meat. You swing however you want to."

"Oh, I get it," Quatre said with a nod of understanding, to which Catherine couldn't help but laugh at. She told him it was because she thought he was unthinkably adorable, which only made Quatre furrow his brow in aggravated confusion once more.

While Catherine and Quatre carried on, Heero and Trowa were left to their own devices. Trowa was leaning back in his chair with one ankle perched on top of his knee while he nursed some sort of mixed drink that had a cherry floating amid the ice cubes. Heero shuffled the melting ice cubes at the bottom of his own glass with a morose shake, trying hard to listen for the satisfying clink they made against the sides. "Not your scene, is it?" Trowa commented idly, taking a sip of his drink as he watched Heero's reserved movements.

Heero shook his head, not really in the mood to bother with words if he didn't have to, though after a brief pause, he added, "I'm not even sure why I came anymore."

"It's because Duo asked you," Trowa said in such a casual tone, it was impossible to discern if there was any trace of sarcasm or humour there.

No matter what Trowa's intent was, the comment still caused Heero's fingers to tighten around his glass, their tips slipping against the wet glass as he fought to get a hard grip on it. Thinking back to the scene in the teahouse, he realized this was indeed the case: something in Duo's tone when he'd grabbed Heero's wrist had been oddly touching and soft, almost like that of a fearful child. The disconcerting warm chill that had overtaken his body then was spreading across his body at the simple memory of it. He blamed his reaction on instinct, an impulse to be there for Duo in that raw moment of exposure, no matter how brief it was.

"Heero...." That was Trowa's voice, which sounded vague and distant, like he was calling from a far-off star.

Startling, Heero dragged himself back to reality, quickly discarding his glass on the table so he could wrap his arms protectively around himself. "Where is Duo, anyway?"

"Oh, around," Trowa said vaguely, twirling his free hand in the air nonchalantly. "You'll know him when you see him; he's dressed to kill tonight."

"Who's he trying to impress?" Heero wanted to know, hardly conscious of the way his arms tightened across his torso.

"Somebody? Maybe everybody? It's always hard to tell with him," Trowa shrugged as he tossed back the last of his drink. "I'm not even sure he really cares. He just does it for the attention - and to piss a few people off."

"Oh." Heero couldn't help but wonder if one of those people was Pastor Maxwell. He traced the condensation on the rim of his glass, chewing his lip in thought. Idly, he wondered what Hilde would think if she knew her boyfriend was out to charm himself some fun while she was otherwise occupied. Duo certainly was a master of puppets, pulling strings from the shadows and laughing all the while. "I'm going to go look for him," Heero announced, standing abruptly.

He had barely taken a few steps when he felt a hand tightening around his arm, and he glared down the length of his arm to see Trowa holding him fast. "I'm sure he'll be around," he said rapidly, like he was trying to keep Heero from seeking Duo out.

Wrenching his arm free, Heero scowled at Trowa, not very taken with being told what to do. "He's the reason I'm here, so I'm going to let the motherfucker know that I showed," Heero explained candidly. Now decidedly annoyed, he then stalked over towards the bar, suddenly parched for something a bit stronger than club soda. He flagged down the bartender and requested a stout beer as he settled onto one of the empty barstools.

"Here you go, stranger," said the red haired barkeep as she set a cold bottle of Guinness and an empty glass in front of Heero. She might have been flirting with him, but Heero didn't care enough to even bother reacting to it and instead took a sip of the thick alcohol straight from the bottle, not even troubling to pour it into the glass. The bartender watched him chug a good third of the bottle with an expression of mild horror on her freckled face.

Heero hiccupped as he set the bottle down again. "Have you seen a guy with long, braided hair?" he asked the bartender bluntly, ignoring her other overtures.

"Oh, you mean Duo Maxwell?" she asked, the mention of his name causing her to brighten. She squinted over in the direction of the stage. "Usually he's spinning for these things," she explained, clearly a bit frustrated that Duo wasn't where she'd expected to find him. "I wonder where he's gone?"

"I wouldn't be asking if I knew," Heero said morosely as he snatched his beer bottle up for another long swill. He wondered where this foul mood had stemmed from. Initially, between the party and his run-in with Pastor Maxwell, Heero wanted to pin it all on Duo, but on second thought, he supposed doing so would make him just as lousy as the adults who drove Duo to rebel in the first place.

A shout from someone sitting a bit further down the bar drew the redhead's attention. "'Ey, sweetheart!" the tipsy student slurred. "O'er 'ere!" She tossed her shoulders apologetically at Heero and then scuffled over to see to the lush's needs. Heero was glad she was gone; her careful scrutiny had made him a bit uncomfortable, certain that she was just short of asking a thousand questions about why he might be searching for Duo. Heero wasn't sure he was ready - or could even be able - to answer most of them had she gotten the chance.

He was starting to have serious trouble getting time to himself for long periods of thought, because no sooner had he started on this mental tangent was he interrupted by the unexpected proximity of another body. Heero instinctively recoiled, saying sharply, "The bartender's down there."

"I know. I was just over there, schmoozing her for a finger of vodka," came the smooth, baritone reply - a voice that sent that indescribable warm chill tingling down Heero's spine. He became pointedly aware that Duo's wide, plush lips were just scant centimeters from his ear. "But she... directed me towards more - how shall we say it? Worthwhile ventures?" There was something distinctly different about the ragged, breathy tone that coloured Duo's familiar intonations, though what exactly that was didn't come across clearly to Heero's hazy mind. He took another sip of his beer.

Feeling a bit fuzzy around the edges, Heero turned so he could see the longhaired boxer, more than ready to give him a scathing commentary about being roped into coming to this party, but his voice was shocked to silence when he did. Duo was half perched on the stool next to Heero's, clad in a black cargo dress that might have passed for a shirt in other circumstances. His powerful legs were tinted dark gray by a pair of sheer thigh-highs, his forearms wrapped with fingerless fishnet gloves, and he wore a pair of black pumps on his feet. Reason told Heero that there was something seriously deranged about this image, but it was still Duo's unchanged face staring right back at him, and Heero quickly realized that despite the illusion, Duo appeared just as sensuously male in this outfit as he has when Heero had watched him box.

At least he no longer had to ask Trowa why Pastor Maxwell was so abhorrent of his younger son.

"Something on my face?" Duo crooned, stroking his chin and more than aware that Heero was staring. He shifted in his seat, hooking his legs around opposite rungs on the stool and hoping that it drew Heero's attention to his legs; if there was anything that was exciting him at the moment, it was the thought of Heero's sharp, passionate gaze wandering between his thighs.

Heero didn't waste any time and spoke his mind immediately. "Why are you dressed like that?" he demanded to know.

A demonic twist pulled at Duo's lips, the neon glow of the bar glinting eerily in the purplish-cobalt recesses of his dark irises. "You don't really need me to answer that for you," he murmured, carefully tracking the path Heero's eyes were tracing across his person. "It turns heads - puts me in the pilot's seat."

"I'm not sure you need the clothes to do that," Heero commented with a note of irony. His fingernails were scratching neurotically at the wet label pasted to his beer bottle, fighting desperately to make sense of this. It was certainly one of the last things he'd ever expected, and now that he was faced with it, he wasn't quite sure how to proceed. He ordered himself to calm down; he'd worked through more detrimental situations in the past; this was child's play.

"I suppose you're right," Duo admitted, rolling his shoulders one by one to pop a knot in his back. He then leaned forward, grasping the round edge of the stool between his thighs as he added, "But I have to say, I've never seen you look at me quite like that before."

The heat that darkened Heero's cheeks and swelled within him should have been enough to steep through his fingertips and melt the glass of his bottle. "I'm not looking at you in any particular way," he insisted with a heavy swallow. "No different than I've looked at you before, anyway."

Duo's eyes only became darker, casting his gaze down at Heero's lap. "Then I must not have been watching you at the right moments, if that's the case," he said ambiguously, not even trying to hide the way his eyes were raking across Heero's lower body, lingering specifically on the creases where his pant legs joined the fabric around his waist.

"Watching me?" Heero asked before he had a chance to stop himself. "Like you are right now?"

Inexorably drawn by the shape of Duo's mouth, Heero watched it pucker slightly and then slowly spread back out into that wide, demonic grin that was so classically attributed to Duo's expression. The longhaired boxer didn't even say anything as he sidled off his barstool, suddenly very close to Heero. He was just short of straddling one of Heero's knees, trapping Heero against the bar with the iron circle of his arms. "Just like you watch me," he whispered, leaning in to press their cheeks together, his hot breath loosening the long fringe tucked behind Heero's ear. Then, like he had been ghosted away by a foul gust of wind, he disappeared, leaving Heero shivering with warmth.

As if the ability to move had left him, Heero stayed fixed to his barstool, draining off the last of his beer and waving down the bartender again for another drink. His encounter with Duo had been strange, he thought, shredding the label he'd peeled off his old bottle into confetti. It wasn't like Duo had really been acting much differently than he usually did, but there was still something about it that struck Heero in a more acute way, though he couldn't even begin to guess what that might have been. He gratefully accepted the replacement beer when the bartender set it down before him, hoping that maybe the cloud of drink would either clarify or cloud the situation entirely.

"You're a pretty resilient one," the woman behind the bar said, leaning on her elbows and looking at Heero sideways. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone hold up against a move like that before. He must really be questing hard for you, stranger. Never seen Duo Maxwell whip out the big guns so quick. And still," she whacked the countertop emphatically; "you managed to withstand it! You're either oblivious, straight or -"

"What are you trying to suggest?" Heero demanded, suddenly alert. He narrowed his eyes at her, a scowl tightening his lips.

"...or in denial," she finished slowly, a little thrown off by his intimidating stare. She was a little surprised by this unfamiliar face, to be honest. She'd seen Duo on the prowl many times before, and he usually had a knack for smelling out what sort of guys would bend to his whims easiest. Why he'd set this prickly young man into his crosshairs was beyond her.

Heero ignored her, pointedly directing his attention to the rest of the room. Duo had somehow managed to blend back in with the crowd, quite a feat considering his bold claim that his attire made him the center of attention. In all honesty, Heero wasn't sure he was so surprised that Duo would do something like that for a few extra looks, though. At the same time, he still couldn't help but wonder who he was trying to attract when he already had a devoted girlfriend waiting for him back at school. He wondered if Hilde knew Duo was so insatiable - and then wondered where the contents of his second beer bottle had gone. He called for another. And another. And one after that.

He didn't vacate his stool until the lady behind the bar refused to give him any more alcohol, and it was then that he realized that he had to go to the bathroom anyway. Stumbling a little, he got to his feet and drifted towards the back of the club in search of the lavatories, which he soon came across with surprisingly little trouble, especially considering that cloud streaked vision was getting a bit wobbly and his temples throbbed.

With the way the pounding beat was undulating out in the club, stepping into the bathroom almost felt like he'd wandered into the speaker system's woofer - though the feeling might have only been an exaggeration due to the hammering between his ears. It was a pretty drab, uninspiring place, to say the least, with fake brown tiles and stains on the white walls that were only washed out by the kinky black light in the light socket furthest from the door, which painted that end of the room in a sharp, flickering violet. Heero wandered over to the row of urinals beneath the black light, leaning with one palm flat against the rough wall as he relieved himself. He lingered in that bent position long after he'd finished, just breathing harshly and feeling rather faint. Then, in one seamless motion, he buttoned his pants and swept into one of the nearby stalls, barely able to latch the door behind him before falling to his knees and regurgitating his bellyful of alcohol.

Gagging, he heaved until his cheeks were sodden with tears and his stomach was empty. Through bleary eyes, he stared emptily down at the tan bile floating in the toilet water, clotting with chunks of the shredded beef he'd had for lunch. What had driven him to drink so much so quickly, he wondered. Had he been so repulsed by this whole predicament that he'd had nothing else to do?

[And all that I know is I
Just don't understand
Why my
Mm, happiness
Always lies in the palm of your hand.]

 The music from the dance floor suddenly burst into the bathroom at full volume, signifying that someone else had wandered into the bathroom. Heero lethargically twisted around as the door swung closed and muffled the song again, banging his ribs against the toilet bowl as he moved. The gap beneath the stall door spied across two pairs of feet scuffling around each other clumsily. One pair was tied up in a rather expensive looking pair of shoes while the other donned a very familiar pair of black heels. Their clacking sound dominated the room, drowning out the loud ventilation unit and Heero's raspy breathing. With a shaking hand, Heero cautiously reached up to the door latch, a kind of morbid voyeurism daring him to peek out and watch.

"Come on, baby, open your mouth a little more - that's it," Duo hissed to his companion as he hoisted the other up onto one of the sinks. The expensive leather shoes hung limply on either side of Duo's calves, a pair of masculine arms with wandering hands looped around his waist. The voice that whimpered something in response was deep and throaty, but Duo seemed to find it just to his tastes. "You want it right here? Come on, you can tell me, you dirty slut," he groaned with a strange, sugared crust to his tone as he thrust his hips against the man in his arms. "I'll fuck you all you want, wherever you want, whenever you want...." His words deteriorated into a series of clipped grunts as he kicked off his heels and crushed himself more assertively against the other. "Just beg for it. Beg for me."

Heero felt his fingers iced to the door, his eyes round with some unnamed emotion and his teeth grit with another, just as anonymous but of a very different sort. His stern eyebrows dipped low over his nose as the other man's big, clumsy hands slid lower down Duo's back and hooked themselves beneath the hem of Duo's all-too-short dress and working the fabric high over Duo's hips as his greedy fingers sought to touch flesh. Heero couldn't even tell if Duo was wearing any more than a garter belt beneath there, and though he wasn't quite sure he wanted to know, all he could think about was the way Duo had been just short of sitting in his lap earlier - how he'd looked straddling that barstool. Needy panting now filled the air, and Heero, much to his embarrassment, realized only moments too late that it wasn't just coming from the couple on the sinks.

Duo stopped suddenly, throwing the other man's hands off of him like they were suddenly laced with poison and pulling his skirt down as he slowly turned around, wary as a panther. It didn't take long for him to catch sight of Heero, who was quickly getting to his feet, despite the wave of nausea that overtook him as he stood. That devilish curl took to Duo's lips again. "Look here, Inuki," he said, addressing the other man, an Asian with shaggy, dyed hair. "A little lost kitten come to play with us." He paused, his lips a wanton crescent in the dark lighting as he redirected his ever-flickering eyes back at Heero. "Me-ow."

Filling himself with as much confidence as he could muster, Heero strode out of the stall and said as flatly as possible, "Ignore me; I was just leaving."

"Oh no, that's not happening," Duo said, throwing an arm out to bar Heero's path, his movements much faster than the swaggering lilt of his voice might have suggested. "You don't seem to understand that I have serious trouble ignoring you, kitten."

"I'm not your pet!" Heero snapped, trying to dodge away from Duo but failing miserably. He wasn't used to this sort of thing - to people having such a pointed interest in him.

"Oh, God, I sure as hell wish you were. I'm getting tired of puppy dogs," he whispered, slamming his other hand against the stall door on the other side of Heero's head, trapping him. His lips like specters across Heero's cheek, he leaned in closer to the exchange student, who had, in that very short space of time, somehow forgotten how to move. "I'd love to wrestle you down and pet you all night. God, what I'd do have you lick me and you bite me and claw me like a good little kitten." His sinning mouth was moving down the long curve of Heero's neck, impulsively nipping at the quivering pulse that ran down it. "Purr for me, tiger."

Then his mouth was suddenly wider, suckling at Heero's collarbone, on of his palms now pressed against Heero's back and holding their bodies fast together, separated only by Heero's pinioned arms. Instinct was taking over Heero, but struggle as he might, Duo's grip proved strong, especially when his other hand joined the first in binding them together. Duo's ability to hold his own in a fight against Heero had proven to Heero that the other was quite powerful, but he hadn't quite realized the true extent of that strength until now, flush against the hard planes of Duo's torso. Or then again, maybe that assessment had something to do with Heero's lack of resistance. He wondered again how he was supposed to explain this to Hilde.

The heat left Heero's shoulder as Duo pulled his mouth away, but just as he was about to take advantage of the moment, Duo crushed his lips against Heero's, sucking whatever protest he'd been about to voice down his throat. Duo flipped around, pressing his back against the stalls and sending Heero sprawling across his slouching form as Duo continued to kiss him savagely.

Again, the urge to escape overwhelmed Heero as he struggled to get away, but found Duo's lips pasted firmly to his. Urgently, he tried to press his forearms against Duo's chest in an effort to propel himself away, but as he stepped back, his back collided with another body, which he quickly realized to be that of Duo's companion, Inuki, whose hands were gliding suggestively down Heero's sides. A crawling shiver wormed down Heero's back as those strange hands slid underneath his shirt, spiriting across his torso with a ghoul-like coldness.

He could barely let out a disgusted moan when Duo released his lips and started to sink to his knees, his arms still wrapped tightly around Heero's body as his mouth instead began to seek out the now-exposed skin that had been hiding beneath Heero's shirt, pausing in his kisses to nuzzle the contours of Heero's lower frame. Heero's mouth was almost immediately invaded by Inuki's, whose taste was far sourer than the warm, rummy one that had lingered on Duo's tongue. That unsavoury flavour made Heero shudder and he jerked his head from side to side in an effort to dodge the invading mouth, his flailing arms finally breaking free of the tight noose Inuki's had made around him with his.

Not caring as he gave Inuki a savage push to the side, Heero almost trampled Duo as he took his chance to stumble free. He backed himself up against the sinks, his elbows quaking as he leaned back on one of them to steady himself. He still felt a bit tipsy, the floor a diagonal streak across his vision. Even though Duo's body was hardly more than a blur, he could see that fire still crackling in his fierce blue eyes, which, for some reason, were still boldly defined in his skewed world. "L-Leave me alone," he finally managed to whisper as he fumbled along the sinks towards the door, still drawn by that hot stare of Duo's. He forced himself to turn away, never so glad to push back into the mind numbing pulse of the club.

Still, it was hard to forget the way it had felt to be crushed so firmly against another - how it felt to be wanted by someone else, even if it was only for a little bit. Maybe that was what drove the longhaired boxer's libido so wild. He sighed helplessly, feeling defeated as he leaned against a removed patch of wall and stared blankly into the unsteadying crowd.

There was nothing soft about Duo Maxwell.

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Thanks for reading and enjoying, all. Song credit to Madonna.

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