Archive of Our Own ^beta

1. Beard

“There’s no way you’ve grown that in the last month. Not unless you’ve got the testosterone of three men.”

The tall bartender, with the thick, auburn beard, turned to look at where Duo was leaning on the bar, and raised a questioning eyebrow. It had taken Duo ten minutes to work out how to start a conversation with him, and that was the best he’d been able to come up with. It had worked, though, and he found himself fixed with a quizzical, green stare, and suddenly words weren’t a thing any more.

Instead, he gestured to his chin, and then to the ‘No-Shave November’ sign stuck up on the wall behind the bar, his hand waving to the other bartenders who were sporting slightly straggly face fuzz, having only started growing a short while ago. Not like this bartender’s beard.

He could have said ‘nice tats’, Duo thought, as the tall man silently turned to follow his gesture, contemplating his colleagues with a thoughtful look. The bartender had a rainbow of ink surrounding his forearms, peeking out from the rolled-up sleeves of his white button down shirt, and a few more peeking out from under the collar. He could have teased him about having to wear suspenders as part of his hipster bartender uniform.

But no, he decided to go with the beard.

And people wondered why he was still single.

Finally, the bartender turned back to him, and there was a small grin visible under his moustache, crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“I didn’t grow this in a month,” he acknowledged. “But I do also have the testosterone of three men.”

There was something in the way he said that, something teasing in his tone, and some kind of sparkle in those bright green eyes, which made Duo’s mouth go dry. He took a sip of his beer, tried to speak like a normal person.

“That’s cheating then,” he said, once his throat was working again. “You’re supposed to start fresh.”

Oh Jesus, that was the best he could come up with? What was wrong with him?

But the bartender’s eyes crinkled more, and he leaned down, resting his elbows on the bar where Duo was perched, making himself comfortable, and getting closer into Duo’s space and - oh, he even smelled good.

“I’m being sponsored to shave it off instead,” he said. “Later tonight, actually. Want to sponsor me?”

“...Okay,” Duo agreed, automatically, his brain not catching up with his mouth until a few seconds later. Belatedly he scrambled for his wallet, embarrassed. “Uh, I only have three dollars on me right now, but I can get some more…”

“Pay me later,” the bartender advised with a grin, straightening up. “Then you can decide how much you think it’s worth.”

Duo watched him head back along the bar, and tried to decide if he was disappointed the beard was going, or if he was excited to see what was beneath.

*

Watching the bartender shave was… weirdly intimate and strangely erotic. Duo found himself a perch with a view near the back of the crowd as one of the other bartenders called for quiet, and cleared a space, introducing Trowa - that was his name, Trowa - whilst a basin of water, some electric clippers, a razor, some shaving foam and a towel were brought out to one of the tall bar tables, and someone produced a light-up shaving mirror.

Trowa had slid his suspenders off, and then unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged that off his shoulders to jeers and wolf whistles from the regular crowd. Duo held his breath, tried not to get too distracted by the ink emblazoned across his body. His very well-shaped body. He was several beers in, had stayed here much longer than he had planned, and he was giddy on alcohol and the excitement of this moment.

He made a performance of it, whilst a couple of other bar staff walked around with a bucket collecting change towards his sponsorship total. Taking his time, he carefully used the clippers to trim the thickness out of the beard, shortening it to something easier to shave. By the time he had finished, he was shirtless, rough-edged, and Duo could see the strong jaw and cheekbones underneath the shadow on his face. Frankly he would have happily let Trowa pick him up - literally - and carry him off right there and then.

The foam was smoothed on, and the razor applied, and then baited breath around the room. The bar was so quiet, they could hear the gentle rasp as the blade passed over his skin. A strip of smooth face was revealed under the foam as he took his hand away and rinsed the razor, and a cheer went up from the crowd.

It continued for the rest of the shave, each stroke earning more cheers and stamping of feet, applause. Until finally he leaned down and rinsed the last of the foam off, toweling his face, neck and chest dry, and stood, revealing his clean-shaven self.

Duo very much appreciated the view.

He stayed where he was as the crowd around him began to mill back to their own business, stuffing change and a few notes into the collection bucket, clapping Trowa on the shoulders, back and arms as they passed. Trowa smiled good-naturedly, accepted their greetings with nods and chuckles, pulling his shirt back on. As he buttoned it up, he met Duo’s gaze, and started to saunter over to where he stood, leaving his suspenders hanging off his hips.

“Well?” he asked, as he came closer. “Do you think that was worth the cost of admission?”

And then some, Duo thought.

“I dunno,” Duo managed to say. “How close a shave was it?”

“Judge for yourself,” Trowa drawled, and then he was in Duo’s space, tilting his face in invitation.

After a moment’s hesitation, he reached up and trailed his fingers over that strong jaw. The skin was smooth beneath his fingers.

“Not bad,” Duo said, trying to keep his voice steady. “For someone who hasn’t done it in a while.”

“You’re hard to impress. Maybe you need to take a closer assessment.”

“Wha-”

And then there were lips on Duo’s - soft, so soft, in the way that lips were immediately after shaving, and it oh it was heady, even as he was almost too stunned to respond. His eyelids fluttered open as Trowa pulled away - when had they even closed? - and he stared up at the taller man.

“...When do you get off work?”

“Before I started shaving.”

“Can I buy you a drink?”

The smirk twitched into a pleased smile, and Duo’s heart stopped, before starting again double time.

“Sure,” Trowa said. “That sounds like a good start.”

*

2. Coffee

First weeks at new jobs were always difficult.

Made exorbitantly more so by the fact that Trowa’s predecessor had left in a flounce a month prior, leaving work unfinished, and the post had been empty until he started that Monday.

It had been a hell of a handover.

The only thing that had got him through the week was the coffee shop he had discovered between his new apartment and his office, where he had been able to pick up a heart-stoppingly strong coffee each morning to kick him into gear, and compensate from the lack of sleep after another late night trying to knock things into shape. He was looking forward to finally being able to do his own work, instead of having to clean up after someone else’s. But until then, he was going to enjoy his coffee.

And the hot barista who seemed to be there every day.

Long hair wasn’t normally Trowa’s thing, but this guy seemed to take care of his, and it was always pulled back in a neat braid. Gorgeous eyes absolutely were Trowa’s thing, and his were a deep blue, almost purple, and crinkled at the corners whenever he shot Trowa a crooked grin. It was the most pleased anyone looked to see him those first two weeks, the happy barista every morning.

He’d have thought it was real, if he hadn’t managed to end up screwing up every day. Trowa knew the rules, this dude was paid to be nice to him. And he almost certainly hadn’t been paid enough.

The first day, it had been the sugar. The dispenser had been empty, and Trowa had grabbed his attention.

“You don’t need any sugar,” the barista had drawled. “You’re sweet ‘nough.”

“No, I can’t have sweeteners,” Trowa replied. “I’m allergic to saccharine.”

The Barista – Duo, his nametag said – had stared at him blankly for a long moment, before taking the dispenser and going to fill it up, handing it back with a polite, if baffled, smile.

The next time, his cup had been handed to him with ‘I like you a latte’ scrawled on it in. Trowa had caught Duo’s eye, and got a cheesy grin in response as he lolloped over.

“I ordered a filter coffee,” Trowa said.

“What?”

“This says latte, and I ordered a filter coffee.” He held the cardboard cup out for Duo to see, only for the barista to stare at him instead of looking at the cup, leaving him wondering for a moment if he was missing something.

“No, that’s not –“ Duo cut himself off, sighed, and finally took the drink from Trowa, carefully lifting the lid to peer inside. He fitted it back into place and handed it back with a resigned expression. “Sorry dude, it’s definitely filter in there, I must have just written the label wrong.”

When Trowa glanced back over his shoulder as he pulled the door to the shop open, Duo was rubbing tiredly at his forehead and the pretty, dark-haired girl working with him was patting his shoulder sympathetically, but looking terribly amused as she did so.

It had continued all week.

“I’m soy into you,” said with a slight, hopeful leer.

“No, just normal milk please.”

“That’s how I like my men too: tall, hot, and covered in whipped cream.” Dreamy, but slightly pointed, with a direct stare.

“I don’t want any cream, thanks. Just a coffee.”

“This says mocha, I just ordered a coffee.”

“…’You mocha me crazy’?” Duo asked tiredly, putting a strange emphasis on the words and sounding a little strained. “Really? You don’t-?” He sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping, and he ran his hands through his messy bangs. “It’s a coffee, dude. I poured it out. I promise.”

Trowa watched Duo walk away before peeking inside his cup to check. He would have spent longer puzzling over the barista’s behaviour, but his phone was already buzzing with queries, so he scurried out to the street without a backwards glance.

*

Two weeks in, after working through the weekend and later into the evenings, Trowa had finally caught up with all the outstanding work, was ready to carry on moving forwards. It was a relief to leave on Friday night – admittedly late, but the prospect of not having to come in on Saturday kept him going.

He slept blessedly late, had a long, indulgent shower. He felt better than he had done in weeks, the hot water massaging out the tension in his back and shoulders, what little was left after a good night’s sleep. He even found the energy to unpack some of the boxes, that had been abandoned since he had moved in, save for when he had rummaged through them to find one specific much-needed item, leaving the rest of the contents in disarray. Slowly, things started to look like home.

It was lunchtime by the time he left the house, enjoying that he wasn't on a clock, and contemplating ordering a sandwich with his coffee and reading the paper while he sat and ate.

Lost in his thoughts, he automatically held the door open for the person coming out of the coffee shop, only to be startled back to the present when he saw Duo, who looked equally startled to see him.

“Oh! Oh, hey.” And there was that smile, that one that seemed genuinely pleased to see him, despite how frustrated Duo seemed at the end of each encounter. “Wasn't sure you'd be comin’ by today. Glad you're still kickin’.” He paused, tilted his head slightly to study Trowa. “You look better today. Not that you looked bad before, I mean, but you look… more relaxed?”

Trowa wasn't quite sure how to handle such scrutiny, and was suddenly reminded of how he had managed to consistently embarrass himself for the last fortnight.

“Yeah, sorry. My new job was… I’ve been a bit of a space cadet. I didn't mean to make it awkward all week…”

Duo waved him off.

“It's fine dude, you’ve got nothin’ to apologise for. I'm sorry if I made it awkward for you . I should’a taken the hint a lot earlier, but don't worry, I get it. We’re cool.”

He gave a casual wave and started to stroll down the street, leaving Trowa holding the door and frowning after him in confusion.

“Wait,” he called, “what do you mean taken the hint?”

Duo paused, turned and looked a little awkward. He glanced around himself, like he was hoping someone else would answer so he wouldn't have to, and adjusted the strap on his messenger bag.

“About you not bein’ interested.” A long pause, Trowa continued to stare blankly at him, and Duo sighed, fidgeting awkwardly. “In me. In goin’ out with me.”

“What??”

Trowa let the door swing shut and stumbled a few, dazed steps towards the really, really hot barista, who was eyeing him suspiciously. Probably because the expression on Trowa's face was a little wild as suddenly he was putting the encounters from the last two weeks into an appropriate context.

“Come on, man, I’ve been hittin’ on you since last Monday. But I get it, okay, it's not a big deal.”

“No,” Trowa said weakly, “you don't understand.”

Duo raised his eyes expectantly, clearly waiting to be enlightened.

“I thought you were just flirting for tips,” Trowa explained, although it made less and less sense the more he thought about it. “It's your job, you have to be nice to people.”

“Well yeah, sure, I’ve gotta be nice to them,” Duo snorted. “But I don't gotta hit on them. That's… that was just you. But like I said, I got the message, I’ll stop.”

“Please don't!”

Duo looked as surprised as Trowa felt at the vehemence of the outburst, and then glanced around himself again, as if checking he wasn't being set up in some way.

“I… like you a latte, too?” Trowa offered.

That got a surprised and delighted burst of laughter, and the way Duo's eyes sparkled when he laughed was amazing. He shot that crooked grin at Trowa again, and Trowa felt his insides go all wonky in response.

“Wanna grab some lunch?” Duo offered, jerking his thumb over his shoulder, to some mysterious lunch venue down the street.

“Depends,” Trowa said, feeling his own grin spreading across his face, and his body relaxing again. “What's the coffee like there?”

*

3. Writing

Now, he didn’t want to be misunderstood. Trowa loved his publisher, a lot.

He also liked selling books. The more books he sold, the more books he got paid to write, and he liked writing books.

And he could understand that events like this festival were good for selling books, which was good for him and his publisher.

But still.

He went into writing because he liked sitting by himself for long hours at a time, and sometimes going for days without actually speaking to anyone. It suited him very well - he wasn’t a talker, and found crowds a nuisance more often than not.

He was happy to do the occasional panel, or book signing. But this.

Writer ‘Speed Dating’.

This was taking the biscuit a bit.

Squashed in a corner of the bar with the rest of the authors who had been ‘volunteered’ for the event, all of them looking about as nervous as each other as Cathy stood and explained the format of the event to the clusters of people sat around the tables in front of her. Watching them. Hungrily.

If Cathy hadn’t promised an expenses-covered bar tab at the end of this, he would leave right now.

“It’ll be fun !” she had told him, with that light in her eye that he knew full well meant that even if it wasn’t fun, he was still going to do it, and still say it was fun afterwards.

That same light was there again, as she turned on them, broad grin across her face, and everyone around him suppressed the urge to huddle together more tightly for protection.

They were up.

*

By the last table, Trowa was certain Catherine was going to tear up his contract and set it on fire. He had sat with five different groups of aspiring writers throughout the last two hours, and he had a headache pulsing behind his eyelids.

Each table had been in a different lighting zone in the bar - one had been in the pitch dark, one had been graced with a strange pink glow that brightened and dimmed over the whole twenty minutes, and his last table had ended with him squinting and sweating in the direct line of an extremely bright overhead spotlight.

It was so stuffy in the underground bar, and hard to hear anything over all the other groups intently grilling authors on their techniques, tips and secrets. His throat was raw from trying to be heard over them, and he had invariably managed to disappoint everyone. Across the room, he could see even Quatre - personable, actually socially ept Quatre - starting to wilt a little under the intensity of the interrogations. The blonde caught his eye as he sat down, and offered him a tired, weak smile.

Authors weren’t built for this.

One more group to go, and then he could get a drink and go and skulk in a corner of the bar by himself and not talk to anyone until Cathy said it was okay for him to go.

He settled into his chair and mustered his best smile for the four people at the table, and he knew it was terrible even by his usual low standards. Three men and one woman smiled - well, two of them smiled - back at him.

“I’m Trowa,” he said, trying to make his voice carry without yelling. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“I’m Hilde,” the woman said, and gestured to the men, “this is Duo, Heero and Wufei.”

Heero, brown haired and blue eyed, didn’t look any more thrilled to be there than Trowa did, but he managed to muster a slight nod in acknowledgement. Wufei, black hair pulled back in a ponytail, dark eyes serious, didn’t exactly look much keener, but he at least managed a polite smile, and had a notebook in front of him with careful shorthand covering the page.

Duo’s smile was much more enthusiastic, and it startled Trowa a little. Warm and cheerful, his body language was open and the notepad on the table was covered with excited scrawls, clearly written with the chewed-on biro he was twirling between his fingers.

Hilde’s eyes darted between the two of them, and she looked pleased with herself, even as Heero rolled his eyes and Wufei snorted.

Suddenly awkward, Trowa cleared his throat, glanced at his watch - 18 minutes to go - and tried to drag things back on course.

“So,” he tried, “do you guys have any questions left I can help you with?”

Duo leapt in immediately.

“I was wonderin’ how you did your drafting? I mean, you’ve got four books so far – did you start off planning the whole series? Or just one? Do you do them one at a time or…”

Oh, wow. Trowa sat back slightly in his seat at the unexpected flurry of questions. He had hoped by this stage they would have had the bulk of their queries answered by the more skilled writers they’d spoken to first. Apparently not.

Oh man.

Seventeen minutes.

*

“’Scuse me?”

Tucked away in the corner of the bar, Trowa had cunningly placed himself near Quatre, who was both the person he knew best here, so he could relax a little in terms of socialising, and also who was significantly better at fielding new people than Trowa, so would hopefully do the hard work of dealing with anyone who came up and tried to chat.

It was all very strategic.

So when the cautious voice came behind him, and a hand touched his shoulder, he jumped and nearly spilled his drink down his front. When he turned around, Duo was stood looking surprised, and a little sheepish.

“Hey, sorry, I didn’t meant to scare you, I… I just wanted to say thanks for earlier, it was really useful.”

He held out his hand and Trowa took it, shaking it firmly. Now they were stood, he could see Duo was nearly his height, and the long braid down his back seemed to swing almost like a tail behind him.

“It’s fine, I’m glad it was useful,” Trowa said, eventually, realising the handshake had devolved into just awkwardly holding hands, he jerked his arm back self-consciously. “Although, didn’t your friends have any questions?”

“Ah. Heh.” Duo rubbed the back of his neck and chewed the corner of his lower lip, looking embarrassed, and thoroughly appealing in a way that suddenly struck Trowa like a lightning bolt. “About that. I am a huge fan of your work, so when I found out you were gonna be here, Hilde said I should come, and kinda… bullied the others into comin’ for moral support.”

“O-oh,” Trowa stammered, and then his brain caught up. “Wait - me? Not - you’re sure you mean me? Not Quatre? Or…”

“He means you,” Quatre said, with a smile at Duo, who looked a little relieved at the reassurance. “It’s nice to meet you…?”

“Duo Maxwell.”

“Wait,” Trowa said. “Duo Maxwell ?”

“I, uh, guess you’ve heard of me?” He didn't look pleased about it, if anything he looked a bit anxious about it. Trowa didn't know why.

“You don't need to be trying to get advice from me,” Trowa told him emphatically. “I read your book.”

“Ah, yeah. Sorry about that,” Duo apologised. “But I guess a lot of people get a duff first book.”

That didn't make sense. Trowa glanced across at Quatre who shrugged minutely, but didn't seem willing to dive in and help. Perhaps he was enjoying the novelty of Trowa taking the brunt of a conversation for once in their friendship.

“What do you mean? It was amazing. ”

“I 'ppreciate you sayin’ that, but 's alright. Onwards and upwards, right?” Duo quirked an awkward grin at him, which faltered when Trowa just stared back at him, baffled. “It… it didn't do great. So, I got dropped by my publisher. They said I wasn't commercial enough.”

“What?!”

Trowa's exclamation was so uncharacteristically loud that halfway across the room Catherine glanced up from her conversation to check he was alright. He was vaguely aware of Quatre giving her a nod and a thumbs up out of the corner of his eye, but his focus had narrowed down to Duo. Duo looked surprised, flattered and a little embarrassed to be faced with the intensity of this attention.

“It's no big deal,” he said. “I read around, it happens more than you’d think, and-”

“But it was incredible,” Trowa insisted. “I read it in a week, and then immediately started it again.”

“Oh my god,” Duo said, stunned. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he took a deep breath through his nose, and blinked very quickly a few times. “Sorry. This is. Look, I’ve been a fan of yours forever , so hearing you say that is…”

“It should have done better,” Quatre agreed. “He sent it to me too - I tried to find some marketing for it, there wasn't anything. Did they even do an ebook?”

“Ah… no. It… yeah. No.”

“You need a new agent,” Quatre advised, with a grin. “I’ll go talk to Cathy, see if she knows anyone who would suit you. Excuse me.”

He slid past Duo, leaving him and Trowa stood alone in the corner, and Trowa suddenly realised quite how out of the way he had secreted himself now he was there alone with a really very attractive man. A very attractive man who was looking somewhat awkward himself.

“Hey,” Duo said, “can I… buy you a drink?”

“They’re expensed for me,” Trowa said. “I could get you one?”

“Is that allowed?”

He shrugged, and leaned over the bar to flag down a bartender and get two more beers. He did so whilst pointedly not looking in Cathy's direction, so she couldn't tell him off for doing it.

“Hey, would you maybe… want to get a drink sometime?”

The question came a bit out of nowhere, especially as Trowa was in the process of handing Duo a full glass he asked.

“We’re having a drink now.”

“No, I mean like -” There was an embarrassed flush rising on Duo's cheeks. “Like a date.”

“ Oh .” Trowa said, and then looked baffled. “Why?”

“Well…” Duo looked briefly like he was battling with something inside himself, but his resolve strengthened and he turned a winning smile on like a light switch. “I know I shouldn't judge a book by its cover, but when the cover looks like you…”

Trowa just stared at him blankly, and after a long moment, the smile wavered and a bit of a strained expression came across Duo’s face.

“Sorry,” he muttered, “I just… I figured it was worth a try.”

“What was worth a try?” Trowa asked, utterly lost now. Duo studied his face carefully, searchingly. Trowa reflected that it was good he didn’t speak to people much, because he always seemed to cause them anxiety.

“You… don’t get asked out much, do you?” the other man hedged, slowly. That, at least, Trowa could answer.

“I don’t get out much,” he replied. “But the two issues are probably related.”

“Okay.” Duo nodded, took a deep breath. “Straightforward, then. I’ve got a bit of a crush on you. I think your writing is intelligent, funny and eloquent, and I think you’re… super hot. So, ignoring the awful pick-up line, is there any chance you’d go on a date with me?”

That was straightforward alright. Unexpected, but straightforward. The message was definitely received. Trowa felt a funny bloom of flattered warmth in his chest.

“Yeah,” he said, with a grin. “Alright.”

*

4. Candy

Duo almost didn’t notice the little sweet on his desk until he sat down to type and found it stuck to his wrist.

It was a round, powdery tablet, pastel yellow with a baby pink heart outlined on it, and in pink careful text ‘FOR YOU’.

He looked around the bullpen where the other Preventers agents were milling around their desks, but no-one seemed to be watching for a reaction, or ready to fess up. Shrugging, he popped it into his mouth, and crunched it, enjoying the way it crumbled into fizzy sherbet on his tongue. He was never going to say no to candy.

*

There was another one after lunch – ‘BLUE EYES’.

Now he was a little suspicious, and he caught Dowling as she strolled past, arms full of files.

“Who’s dishing out the candy?”

“What candy? Ooh, love hearts! I dunno, but if you find out let me know, they’re my favourite.”

“D’you want it?”

After a brief bit of juggling trying to get a hand free with sufficient room to reach her mouth, whilst not dropping the files over the floor. In the end, Duo just popped it directly in her mouth and she plodded off crunching happily.

*

“I think you’ve got a secret admirer,” Dowling observed, as Duo sat at his desk and studied the three candies on his keyboard with no little suspicion – ‘RELAX’ ‘JUST ME’ ‘EVER YOURS’. This was the third day of sugary messages, and no-one seemed to know who had done it or why. Nor did anyone else seem particularly bothered. Sweets on desks were not something that were entirely out of the norm in the office – people regularly would wander through with snacks for their coworkers. They couldn’t seem to understand Duo’s issue with the fact that it was more than one day, and no-one else was getting any.

“You don’t think this is a little bit sinister?” he asked her skeptically, as she leaned over and snagged one for herself. “Don’t eat that! It could be laced with something!”

“You’re being paranoid,” she told him. “The last four didn’t kill me, why would this one suddenly be poisoned?” She picked up another one, looked at it thoughtfully, and then passed it to him. “Listen to the man,” she advised.

He looked down at the ‘RELAX’ sweet and sighed in frustration.

*

“Why do you have a drawer full of sweets?” Heero asked.

“Why are you going in my drawer?” Duo returned, coming up to his desk to find Heero rummaging through his stuff, caught red-handed trying to steal his stapler, again. “I knew it was you who kept stealin’ that. Get your own stapler.”

“Resources won’t order me one,” Heero said sulkily, standing, holding the item in question defensively out of Duo’s reach. “They say I shouldn’t have lost the last two. What’s with the sweet shop?”

Coming around the desk, glaring as Heero backed off a step and held the stapler out of reach, he looked down into his drawer where the growing collection of love hearts was piling up in his stationery tidy.

Some of the more recent ones had mixed propositions with challenges – ‘CALL ME’, ‘DATE ME’, ‘FIND ME’, ‘I WANT U’.

“I dunno, man,” he said finally. “It’s startin’ to freak me out a bit. No-one knows who it is.”

“Set up a camera,” Heero suggested.

“That’s your solution to everything. HR have told you not to do that anymore.”

“What HR don’t know won’t hurt them,” Heero said flatly, and breezed off, sticky mitts still around his stolen stapler.

*

The few staff on the night shift were steering clear of Duo, who was sulking at his desk long after he should have gone home, ignoring the cluster of sweets by his elbow (‘YOU AND I’, ‘I HOPE’, ‘YOU’RE GORGEOUS’). He was searching the internet for things like ‘tests to tell if a sweet is poisoned’, but was coming up with nothing particularly useful. Sally had already turned him away when he had tried to get her to test the stuff for him. He was wondering if he could get away with just breaking into the lab and doing it himself, when a voice spoke up behind him.

“You’re starting to look paranoid, you know.”

The sound he made wasn’t dignified, as he whirled around in his seat to see Trowa perched on the desk behind him.

“Fuck, it’s you. You scared the shit outta me.” He took a deep, calming breath, tried to bring his heart rate under control as Trowa watched him with a smirk. As the adrenaline scaled down from full alert, he suddenly registered the bag of candy in Trowa’s hand, which he was casually munching on with a quirked eyebrow. “ You ! You scared the shit outta me!”

“That’s because you’ve got no romance in your soul,” Trowa told him.

“It’s because it was creepy as – wait, romance?”

Trowa made a casual ‘hm’ of acknowledgement, studying the candy in his hand before flicking it at Duo, who snatched it instinctively out of the air without taking his eyes off Trowa. If he was expecting any further response he was mistaken, just a bland expression, watching him patiently.

Hesitantly, Duo uncurled his fingers to look at the little round pastel sat on his palm.

‘I LOVE YOU’.

“Oh,” he said blankly. “ Oh .”

There was more silence, broken only by the rustling of Trowa fishing around in the bag of sweets, before flicking another at Duo, who again caught it.

‘SAY YES’.

Holding out his hand, Duo gestured for the bag of sweets, which Trowa handed over after a moment’s indecision, caution clear in his eyes. Duo could feel the intensity of the gaze on him as he rummaged through, looking for an appropriate response. When he found it, he flicked it over to Trowa, who caught it easily, holding his gaze for a long moment before he looked at the candy, and a small smile tugged at his mouth, the minute tension that had been in his shoulders and neck melted away.

‘KISS ME’.

Trowa stood smoothly, and caught Duo’s wrist, tugging him to his feet. He went easily, letting the momentum carry him to press his body against Trowa’s, tilting his head to accommodate as the taller man leaned in for a first gentle brush of lips against lips, then a second, more confident.

“Let’s get out of here, you paranoid weirdo,” Trowa murmured.

“We need to have words about appropriate displays of affection,” Duo shot back, letting Trowa’s arm drop around his waist and guide him towards the door.

He dropped the packet of love hearts on Dowling’s desk as they left.

*

5. Band

It was his day off, so with nowhere he needed to be, and nothing he needed to do, Trowa’s mid-morning walk to the coffee shop was leisurely, and relaxed.

Which was how he ended up being approached by the attractive stranger as he studied the concert poster.

“You a Deathscythe fan?”

He glanced sideways, looking at his new companion. Not quite as tall as him, he had long hair in a braid down his back, and was wearing a tight t-shirt and dark jeans. His hands were stuffed into his pockets, thumbs hooked over the sides. His wrists were covered in leather cuffs and plaited bracelets, whilst his arms were traced with thin, inked lines, wrapping up and around, disappearing under his sleeves.

As random encounters in the street went, it was at least an attractive one.

“Not really,” he said.

“Not into thrash metal?”

“They’re not thrash metal.”

“So you have heard their stuff.”

The stranger looked pleased, bizarrely, and Trowa felt like he had to justify himself.

“My sister got me one of their albums for Christmas. It was alright.”

“Which album?”

“Sneak Attack.”

“Ah, yeah, I liked that one.”

Turning to face him, Trowa studied the man more carefully.

“Are you a fan then?”

“Nah,” he said. “It’s my band.”

“You’re in Deathscythe?”

“Yeah. Hey, you wanna grab a coffee?” The man turned to look at him, giving him a dazzling smile. And, well, maybe he was using a terrible pick-up technique, but he was pretty much Trowa’s type, and Trowa was already heading to the coffee shop…

“Alright.”

*

The man - Duo - had insisted on buying his coffee for him, and then found a table by the window, basking in the warm morning sunshine. He was nice, funny and thoughtful. Which was why it was a shame he kept pushing the ‘I’m in a band’ angle.

“Does this ever work for you?” Trowa asked, finally, watching Duo dump a load of sugar into his coffee, leaving a hole in the foam on top before he carefully stirred it all in.

“Does what ever work for me?”

“Pretending to be in a band.”

“Well, people usually recognise me which saves me the hassle.” Duo winked at him as he raised his oversized mug to his lips and taking a cautious sip. Trowa rolled his eyes. “You’re such a skeptic. What do you do then?”

“I’m a photographer.”

“Weddings?”

“Sometimes. Events, some photojournalism.”

“Gigs?”

“Some.”

“Come do ours tonight,” Duo said with a grin. He put his coffee down and tugged his wallet out of his pocket. Flicking through, he found a business card, and - borrowing a pen off Trowa - scrawled something messily on the back. “Give this to the guys on the door, they’ll let you in.”

Trowa took the card with a raised eyebrow.

“‘I’m the guy Duo told you about, let me in’,” he read flatly. “Really?”

“What’ve you got to lose?” Duo purred, leaning his elbows on the table. “Either I’m lyin’, and they’ll just turn you away from a gig you weren’t plannin’ on going to anyway; or I’m not lyin’, and you’ll get the best view in the house for the show, for free. And I get to see you again.”

“You could see me again anyway,” Trowa drawled. “If you just dropped the act and asked for my number like a normal person.”

“I’m gonna ask for your number too, don’t worry,” Duo promised. “But we’re heading to Philadelphia tomorrow, then New York. It’ll be a few weeks before I’ve got much free time.”

“Which is the perfect excuse for hooking up with someone and then not calling them back,” Trowa said flatly, tucking the card into his pocket despite himself. “You’ve got this all figured out, haven’t you?”

“You seem to think I have.” Duo held out his hand and Trowa passed his phone over, watching as he tapped a number in and dialled, waiting for the first chirrup of a ring before hanging up. “There, you’ve got my number now too. So you could always call me .”

Taking his phone back, Trowa rolled his eyes when he saw the new entry in his phone book – Duo the Rock Star – whilst said ‘rock star’ drained his coffee and winked at him.

“I’ve gotta run, but I’ll see you tonight.” He sounded so confident about it, sure that Trowa would turn up. “Come round the side, to door ‘E’. Phil’s on that door, he’ll let you in.”

“Will he,” Trowa said. “That’s good to know.”

“I bet you were the one who told your parents that Santa wasn’t real,” Duo chuckled, standing and stretching, t-shirt lifting to show a sliver of very tempting skin above the waistband of his jeans, and oh yes, that was why Trowa had agreed to this in the first place.

He sketched a cheerful wave and sauntered towards the door. A group of girls at a table on the way out whispered and giggled as he went past, and, eyes fixed on the way those tight jeans fit just right, Trowa couldn’t blame them.

*

Trowa knew he could have just googled ‘Deathscythe band members’ and saved himself the grief, but part of him didn’t want to give credit to the whole ridiculous story, and part of him didn’t want to spoil the adventure.

Which was the only reason he had for turning up at door ‘E’ at 7:00pm, one of his camera bags with him - only one, he wasn’t taking this too seriously.

He half expected to be turned away. The other half of him kind of hoped that Duo would just be waiting around the side, with a ‘whoops, you caught me’ grin, and then they could go for drinks like normal people. Maybe a walk. Maybe some photos of Duo - in the park, in the autumn night. Even if he wasn’t a rock star, those would be some amazing shots.

But, to his astonishment, Phil at door E - a man almost as broad as he was tall, bald, with no clear distinction as to where his face ended and his neck began - let out a huff of laughter when Trowa passed the business card over, and pointed him down the hall to the backstage area.

A harried-looking man with a head mic and a tablet attached to a clipboard grabbed him.

“You’re the photographer?” At Trowa’s mute nod, he grabbed his arm and towed him down the hall, and up some metal stairs, and then suddenly Trowa was in the middle of a stage, staring out into rows of empty seats, nearly blinded by the spotlights. “There’s access to the floor from either side of the stage,” he said, gesturing to two small sets of stairs down to a railed-off section of floor directly in front of the footlights, “and you can get photos from the wings - if you want to get higher, there are platforms to the side but you’ll need to come on stage and go through the wings for that, so do it when you won’t be noticed.”

“Sure, okay.”

“You can leave your kit bag in the green room, but it won’t be locked, so it’s at your own risk.”

The man strode off, but didn’t gesture for Trowa to follow, and it sounded like he was talking into his headset anyway, so instead Trowa stood, and turned back to look at the empty theatre. He let out a long breath. Shit.

“So, do you believe in fairies now?” came a low, amused, rumble of a voice from behind him.

Duo looked far too pleased with himself, for someone who was dressed basically the same as he had been earlier in the day, with the exception of a guitar strapped across his chest that he was idly tuning.

Trowa let out an amused snort, and swung his bag around, pulling out his camera and flicking the lens cap off.

“Come on then, rock star,” he said. “Are you ready for your shoot?”

“Been waitin’ all day,” Duo told him, with a grin.

*

6. Train

Duo had been able to get a seat, leaping onto the train just as the doors closed, but it was a full enough service that he’d had to decide who he was going to buddy up with. Spotting someone else coming in the opposite direction, scanning the seats with the same expression Duo had, and with a hasty glance between the spare seat next to the elderly woman holding a tiny, grumpy-looking dog, or the teenager whose earphones were loud enough that he could hear the bassline from where he stood, he made the decision to take his chances and slide into the seat next to where he was standing.

The guy sat by the window looked a little startled at his haste, and Duo offered him an apologetic grin. The man returned it, green eyes watching with amusement as Duo began the traditional dance of trying to wriggle out of his coat whilst sitting down and trying not to disturb the person beside him. One day he’d learn to take his coat off before he sat down, and he tried not to look too awkward as he rolled it up to stuff in his backpack, whilst he tugged his book out ready for the trip.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“It's fine,” the man said placidly, although his eyes - Jesus they were pretty incredible - were sparkling with something. “All settled now?”

“Just about.”

His seat buddy huffed a breath of laughter and turned back to his own book, auburn hair falling to shield his face from Duo's view. Which was, frankly, a bit of a shame.

Settling back against the cushion, he found his page and thought with some satisfaction that this was definitely a better choice than the lady with the dog.

*

“Huh.”

The voice cut through Duo’s concentration, and he looked up, blinking in the light of the carriage, and looking around himself as reality was reasserted. The train had stopped, but outside the window was no sign of a station. It was dark, with the embankment high on either side of them. His seat buddy was craning his neck to see how far down the side of the train he could see, but clearly no answer was presenting itself.

“Maybe it’s just a delay in the train before getting out of the platform?” Duo suggested hopefully.

“Maybe,” his buddy murmured, although he didn’t sound convinced.

As if summoned, the ‘ting ting ting’ announcing the speaker system tinkled through the train, followed by the slightly distorted voice of the conductor, sounding fairly apologetic.

“Sorry for the delay, ladies and gentlemen, we are being held at a red signal due to delays further down the line. So far I have no information on how long this will take, but I will update you as soon as I hear anything.”

There was a brief moment of silence after the announcement, followed by a sudden eruption of disgruntled muttering. Duo let out a sigh and looked at his watch, whilst his seat partner checked his phone and twisted his mouth in displeasure.

“No signal?”

“Nope.”

Duo checked his own phone, and sighed heavily, before sharing a rueful look with his buddy.

“How far are you heading?”

“Birmingham.”

“Aw, station buddies,” Duo said. “Guess we can keep each other company in our misery.”

“That’s true,” the other man said with a small grin. “Could be worse.”

*

Thirty minutes later, the train still hadn’t moved when the ‘ting ting ting’ sounded again.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I am sorry for the continued delay. This is due to a power line which has come down across the tracks on this route. At the moment, Network Rail are working to fix it, but it is preventing any progress from trains. We are working to get you to the nearest station to see if it is possible to transfer you onto trains from another route, but at this stage there is no indication of how long that might take…”

The conductor continued to explain how they could claim back the cost of their tickets as a result of the delay, but Duo stopped listening, instead shooting a wry grin at Trowa. Something about the promise of a long delay had made reading seem a little exhausting, and they had ended up chatting together, comparing the areas they knew of their destination city, and introducing themselves.

Duo was utterly smitten. Aside from being a pleasant train companion, and gorgeous, Trowa seemed to be funny, thoughtful, and really damn cool. Definitely better than his plans for an evening alone with pizza.

“Don’t think you’re gonna make dinner at your sister’s,” he said.

“I sent her a text, and an email. We’ll see if either of them gets through,” Trowa said, glancing at his phone in case the signal situation had somehow spontaneously decided to change. He then reached down to fish in his own backpack, and pulled out a bottle of wine. “Seems a shame to let this go to waste?”

“Screw top as well, you were clearly a boy scout.” Duo dug through his bag, and pulled out the disposable cardboard cups he had stuffed in there after his meeting earlier, seemed a waste to throw them away. “They’re not the best crystal, but in a pinch…”

Grinning, Trowa twisted the top off and poured out generous measures into the two cups held out in front of him, before taking his and knocking it against Duo’s in a sad excuse for a toast.

“To delayed trains,” he said.

Duo was more than happy to drink to that.

*

The train had inched forwards as far as Tring, which meant they could open the doors and stand on the platform to stretch their legs. The fresh air was welcome, and the rest of the passengers were milling on and off the train, looking disgruntled.

There was still no phone service.

Nor were there any vending machines on the platforms, or any shops either in the station or out the front entrance.

“Now I see why no-one goes to Tring,” Duo said sourly, as Trowa topped up his cup. They had just polished off the first bottle of wine, and were due to start on the second bottle Trowa had in his bag, and without food he was starting to feel a little lightheaded. A lot lightheaded.

“What do you mean?” Trowa drawled. “This is clearly the cultural capital of… somewhere north of the M25 but south of the M6.”

There had been a brief flurry of excitement when the conductor had announced another train would be coming for them on the next platform over, causing everyone on the train to unload and start climbing up the steps for the bridge over the platform. They were halfway across when the conductor ran out and began waving to them that actually, no, the other train had been cancelled, but the power lines had been cleared so they needed to get back on the first train.

Duo had briefly panicked they would be separated as everyone clambered back onto the train, the crowd of people all keen to get back on and get seats, but as he shuffled down the aisle, he spotted Trowa waving at him.

“Never leave a man behind,” Trowa told him, as Duo slid in beside him with a big grin. “Need a top up?”

*

It took a while for the backlog of delayed trains to clear the route, but eventually they were moving, and seemingly too soon there was the announcement that they were approaching Birmingham New Street.

Sighing, Duo stood and pulled his coat out of his rucksack, sliding it on and getting himself ready for the return to reality, even as he was finding it somewhat hard to stand with the rocking of the train after two bottles of wine.

“This is where we get off,” he said.

“Maybe let’s get dinner before we go that far,” Trowa suggested, standing as well and swinging his own back on his back. Duo blinked sluggishly at him, holding onto the back of the seat in front for balance and trying to decide if he’d heard what he’d thought he’d heard.

“I’d very much like to get off with you,” Trowa said, emphasising it so Duo didn’t misunderstand him. “We can grab a burger, and maybe head to your place?”

“My place,” Duo echoed. “Yes! My place. Have you told your sister?”

“I’m sure she’ll be very happy for me,” Trowa drawled, and guided Duo towards the carriage doors. “But maybe I don’t need to tell her everything.”

The train juddered to a stop, there was the obligatory series of ‘pings’ and then the door slid open, letting them hop down onto the platform. It was dark, and chilly, but as Trowa strolled past and shot him a saucy look over his shoulder, Duo felt very warm indeed.

*