This Charming Man

Title: This Charming Man (1/3)
Author: Chibi Hentai-chan
Archived: Kitsunehi\'s Garden of Forbidden Prose, My FFN account and Deviant Art account
Pairings: 1x2, hints of 3x4
Warning: Large words, AU set in some modern city, drinking, innuendo/adult content, oh an yaoi/shonen ai, notes and definitions are at the very end, not to bog everyone down.
Disclaimer: I am making no money from this and if I do I plan on changing the names and faces to protect the innocent fictional character.
Please remember if you drink don\'t drive and if you frotterize don\'t get caught (but I\'m not advocating the latter)

Heero Yuy had a vulture\'s eye view of his drink as his fingers corralled it on the bar. His ice cubes squeezed together, like people in a Tokyo subway during rush hour, floating atop the amber whiskey. The glass was starting to sweat, as if so many ice bodies crammed together in its little space created sauna-like heat. Heero raised his eyes and glared at the noisy Friday night crowd; not seeing anything different, he sighed and turned back to his glass.

It had been a long day and he didn\'t really want to spend the night in a crowded bar, surrounded by more stupid people. The office was full of them; all pushing against each other to get noticed by their bosses, so absorbed in their own quest for power that they didn\'t care who they stepped on. He\'d heard stories from his co-workers in the IT department, chilling tales of downloaded viruses and corrupted systems all because people with business degrees only needed to be as computer literate as chimpanzees. Heero just wanted to crawl back to his apartment, to his nice, impersonal building, and lock the stupid people on the other side of the door, but instead he was sitting in the corner of The Ruby Slipper, waiting for his friend to share a drink. At least Trowa wasn\'t a stupid person, although he couldn\'t vouch for anyone else in the establishment.

He was trying hard not to be noticed, tucked away in the shadows at the edge of the action. He was the party of one waiting for his friend, his only friend; but not by circumstance, by choice. Heero was attractive by modern standards: Japanese-American, taking more after his father than mother, he had gold-tinted smooth skin; thick, straight dark-brown hair cut in a short, artistically rumpled fashion; and a trim, but slender, body caused by hours in swimming pools. His face was delicate, carrying a hint of exotic in his eyes and mouth and feminine in his slight, up-turned nose. In his younger days, the insult of pretty boy in both American and Japanese flew about, following him though the halls of his high school from the mouths of socialites and jocks. As an adult, he drew attention of men who were feminine and liked the same in their dates; \"twinks\" was the usual derogatory term, and they were the epitome of the gay stereotype. Heero was far from that; he didn\'t demand attention being showered upon him, or look for the spotlight through his outrageous behavior. He believed attention should be given for a job well done, earned though hard work and not piled upon the life of the party.

To his right, Heero noted movement and glanced over, expecting his lanky consort to be there. Instead, an unfamiliar face gave him a polite, though vapid, grin and asked if it was okay to sit there. \"It\'s not being used,\" he grumbled before turning back to his drink. It was Trowa\'s fault for not being on time; he could stand when he finally arrived.

\"Good,\" the other man replied in a rich baritone that reminded Heero of Kahlua and Cream. \"So, do you come to Ruby\'s often?\" Blinking, he considered the question carefully. Someone was picking up on him again. With a sigh, he turned to the man in the seat next to him; the stranger was leaning over the bar, heels hooked into the stool\'s rungs, posterior prominently displayed, attempting to signal for service. Heero looked over the man who was trying, unsuccessfully, to be his conversation partner. For a place like Ruby\'s, the other\'s clothes seemed relatively nondescript: a tight, dark colored shirt that looked black in the dim lights; jeans washed to look \"vintage,\" as the tags often said; and a pair of expensive-looking dark boots that blended into the shadows. It was obviously bar wear, tight in the right places, showing that this man was fit and accentuating miles of legs. The stranger\'s posture was a neon sign declaring he belonged there; one knee crossed over the other in a feminine fashion. When he settled back into the seat with a miffed expression on his face, Heero realized that the man had failed to gain the attention of a bartender.

\"Sometimes. I come here sometimes,\" he replied. Adding, \"You know you advertise too much sitting like that.\"

\"Sorry, I didn\'t know I had to be overtly masculine in a gay bar,\" the newcomer quipped. \"Now,\" he began after a beat, turning in his seat and fixing his boots to the stool, \"do you come here often, sometimes, or you\'re just here sometimes?\"

\"When I drink, I come here,\" Heero answered blandly turning back to his whiskey.

\"Don\'t like to talk much, do you?\"

\"No,\" Heero snapped, glaring at his drink. Why couldn\'t this man just leave him alone? He didn\'t ask much, just to be allowed to enjoy his drink in peace while waiting for his friend, who was beyond fashionably late. Luckily for Heero, one of the bartenders chose that moment to come by his end of the bar.

\"What can I get you, Duo?\" the bartender asked familiarly.

\"A Jager Bull,\" the stranger replied smoothly, sending a quick, sideways, glance at Heero.

\"That\'s a little different for you,\" said the bartender.

\"Yeah, I need a change of pace tonight. Keeping things interesting, you know? Don\'t want to get in a rut.\"

\"Sure. I\'ll get that to you in a minute.\"

\"Okay.\"

\"Are you trying to impress me?\" Heero asked, glancing sidelong at the newcomer.

\"Why would I want to do that?\" Duo replied with a smirk.

Heero turned to look at the other full on. \"I remark that you seem obviously gay, and you order what frat boys drink in retaliation.\"

\"I happen to like Jager Bulls. And who ever said that I was gay? I might just happen to like to sit that way and only feel comfortable doing so in places like this.\"

\"In gay bar?\"

\"Yes, in a gay bar.\" The stranger took a moment to sigh. \"That term is so outdated. It\'s not just for homosexuals anymore; anyone could come here for the atmosphere, the drinks, the inhabitants. Maybe I\'m just metro and enjoy the company gay men. Did you ever think about it that way?\"

\"No.\" An awkward pause ensued. Perhaps his answer was too gruff or impolite, Heero mused, not looking at the other. Father would have cuffed him for that, followed by a soft admonishment from his mom. Trowa would have said it was a defense mechanism, to keep others away, like the spikes on a horned toad or the rattle of a snake. He was always disappointing his parents somehow, and Trowa always made excuses for him.

\"So, are you?\" Heero asked tentatively.

\"Am I what, gay? Well, yes, but you shouldn\'t assume that based on how I sit.\"

\"If you didn\'t sit like a girl, I wouldn\'t.\"

\"Well if you didn\'t talk like an asshole I wouldn\'t assume you were one. But since you do...\"

\"There you go, Duo,\" the bartender said, sliding the drink and shot across the counter to him. Turning in his seat, Duo dropped the shot into the glass and downed both in a few gulps. He placed the set on the counter with a flip of his head, sending a long rope of brown hair snaking out behind like a dominatrix\'s whip. Quietly, the bartender removed the empty glass and moved away from the pair.

\"Still not impressed,\" Heero replied, taking a sip of his whiskey.

\"That wasn\'t the point.\"

Heero grunted, turning his stool back to face the counter. \"You should drink what you like and not worry about impressing people.\"

\"I\'m not trying to impress you.\"

\"Sure you\'re not.\" With a confident smirk, he raised the tumbler to his lips again.

\"You know, Oscar Wilde said that people aren\'t good or bad, just charming or tedious. Right now you\'re teetering towards the tedious end of the scale,\" the stranger stated before staring off into the crowd. Ian had been the same way, the constant claim that Heero was boring or trying, based on some imagined perception of how who he was. But Ian\'s ideas were more fiction than fact. \"His Heero\" was shrouded in a cloud of \"broody and deep\" rather than the reality of \"shy and easily annoyed.\" Ian had always been an optimist, looking for the good in his young, curmudgeonly boyfriend, but it was good Heero was sure didn\'t exist; not that he thought of himself as necessarily bad, just never quite enough. Never smart enough or good enough at sports. Never being on enough teams or going to a good enough college. His job was average, not quite well-paying enough, and he\'d never give his parents grandchildren. Heero hadn\'t been attentive enough towards Ian, causing his long-term boyfriend to leave him for a girl who would take Ian out and shower him with attention. Heero did get a sweet and sincere, \"I\'m just not gay,\" before the couple left for a dance club Ian had been dying to visit.

Turning back to his drink, he watched a moat form around the tumbler, fortifying the castle\'s defenses. Maybe it was better to be alone; solitary creatures are that way by nature and not circumstance. Heero didn’t have many friends, and didn\'t need them. He had his computer and Wednesday nights with Mythbusters. He knew his life was complete without anyone to share it.

\"That glass isn\'t going to tell you the meaning of life,\" the stranger said, staring at the crowd.

\"I wasn\'t expecting it to,\" Heero replied quietly. The ice cubes shifted some, allowing the lower layers to rise to the top. The ice was melting, slowly adjusting to the temperatures of the people packed bar. Without moving his head, Heero averted his gaze to the throngs to people mingling with each other. They were meeting others, getting dates, living the lives of social creatures, but Heero Yuy couldn\'t do any of that. He couldn\'t bring himself to make the small effort to talk with the man who sat beside him. A man who was neatly dressed, obviously well-read, and wanted his company over everyone else there. He should be able to talk to this stranger and make a new friend, someone to take the pressure off of Trowa, to get Heero out of the house. He pivoted his stool again and met a curious gaze. This was going to be harder than he thought.

It had been too many years. Too many people who accepted that he wasn\'t worth their time, and too many rejections of his clumsy advances. The beautiful people, like Duo and Ian, intimidated him. People who made meeting and greeting look like a Russian Ballet. Heero\'s best attempt resembled a gym class waltz. A set of deep, blue eyes met his in an expectant look. He could see his father\'s disappointment in those eyes, the glare Heero earned as he embarrassed their family with his social awkwardness. He also saw his mother\'s face, smiling her soft encouragements like she did every time he looked back for assurance. That same smile quirked the stranger\'s mouth, the same supporting grin. Extending a hand he said, \"Heero Yuy.\"

\"Duo Maxwell.\"

\"Pleased to meet you.\"

\"Likewise, I\'m sure.\" With the pleasantries exchanged, Duo looked over Heero for a few moments. The scrutiny didn\'t sit well with the him, and he found his face flaming as Duo\'s blue eyes roved up and down him. \"You just came here from work didn\'t you?\"

\"You could tell,\" Heero replied blandly.

\"I\'m that astute. So what do you do?\"

\"I\'m surprised you want to get to know an asshole.\"

\"Call me a sadist. Besides, people are usually in a piss poor mood if they\'re in a bar after work. I\'ll chalk it up to that and excuse your previous behavior.\"

\"A friend called to meet me here.\"

\"Oh, do you want me to move so he can sit here?\"

\"No, he\'s late. It\'s his fault if he has to stand.\"

\"What I nice friend you are, Heero.\"

\"He\'s probably got a good reason for not being here. I\'ll have a message on my phone when I get home.\"

\"Not on your cell?\" Duo inquired, leaning an elbow against the countertop.

\"I turn it off when I go places. It\'s too hard to hear.\"

\"Oh. That\'s very practical of you.\"

\"Thank you.\" The bartender chose that moment to make his rounds again. Deciding he was staying for a while, Heero downed the rest of his drink and pushed the empty tumbler toward the man. At the bartender\'s question if he wanted another whiskey, Heero shook his head, overtaken with the sudden urge for something sweet and ordered a Kahlua and Cream, while his companion ordered \"the usual, very dry.\"

\"Have you ever thought about the word metrosexual?\" Duo asked as soon as the bartender left.

\"What?\"

\"Metrosexual. Have you ever thought about what that term implies?\"

\"According to the newspapers...\"

\"No, the word. Metrosexual. Does it mean that you \'get off\' on trains and buses?\"

\"I\'m not sure,\" Heero replied wearily.

\"...and while I can understand the mechanics behind having sex with a bus,\" Duo continued as if there had never been an interjection from his companion, \"I can\'t find a way to have any sexual contact with a train, unless you enjoy masturbating inside one or frotteurizing on the seats, and that just seems...perverted.\"

\"Are you sure that\'s a word?\"

\"Which word?\"

\"Frotteurizing\"

\"Well how else do you turn frotteurism into a verb?\"

\"Rubbing.\"

\"Very funny,\" Duo snorted, accepting his drink as soon as the bartender placed it on the counter. Heero cupped his tumbler with one hand while leaving both on the bar.

\"So, how long did you mull over that little diatribe?\"

\"Fifteen minutes.\"

\"In another fifteen it might be funny.\"