Destination Eden (revised)

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>Disclaimer:
The Gundam boys are not mine. They’re just free to use my mind as a playground.

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: yaoi, shounen-ai, lemon, voyeurism, slight het, blood, angst, sap,
OOCness, Relena-bashing, AU, OOC, on Duo’s behalf.

Pairings: 1x2x1, 1x3, 2x4, hints of 2+OC, 4x3 implied

Summary: AC200. The war is over, total peace reigns. Heero loves Duo. Duo
loves Heero. Only neither one is aware of the others feelings. Who will make
them find out?

Thoughts

~o~O~o~ indicates flashback

Thousands of thanks to Shenlong for the beta reading ^_^

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>Author’s
note: This fic is a rewritten version of a fic I once wrote, called Nobody’s
perfect. Some might recognize it. I’ve added parts of both Duo and Heero’s
past, Duo about his life on the street, Heero about his harsh training with
Doctor J. The original story, the one in their present lives, basically stayed
the same. I’ve also added a prologue and epilogue. I have indicated AU on Duo’s
behalf, especially concerning his past. No Maxwell church, no sister Helen, no
Sweepers on his fourteen years old. He did meet Solo. But I’m gonna stop
rambling now before I give everything away. Don’t let the het scare you away, I
promise some good boys on boys action ahead ^_~ Well, enjoy! Reviews would be
nice.

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'> 

12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:FR\'>~*~*~

12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:FR\'> 

normal\'>16.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:FR\'>Destination Eden

12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:FR\'>~o~O~o~

style=\'font-size:14.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>Prologue

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>Duo
could consider himself lucky. Today’s catch was… satisfying, to say the least.
He had spotted him at once. Expensive clothes, a defined and neat appearance.
He could pick up money there. A lot of money. He had walked over to him and had
offered to go with him. The young man had greeted him politely and had
introduced himself as Quatre. That was new. He told him his name? That wasn’t
the habit around here. Customers didn’t reveal their names to those whores,
that stealing scum. Quatre. Special name. One only wealthy parents would name
their children. Quatre Raberba Winner. Three names, would you look at that. A
goldmine! And that didn’t clash with his looks. He thought him to be around the
same age as himself. The sleeves of his stark white shirt were secured with
silver cuff links and upon his soft grey tie he wore a golden clasp with a
diamond sparkle in it. Piece of cake to get his thieving hands on that. The boy
was new in town and he had ended up in his quarter. On a business trip with his
father, he had told him afterward.

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>Quatre
didn’t know what he had to think about the streets he had found himself in now.
The air itself seemed to be darker here, though the sun shone just as brightly
as the fancy streets he had roamed in before. There was something different,
something… the atmosphere, he assumed. Gloomy, radiating poverty. Whistles to
one side of him, envious leers at the other; a hand grabbed his and he looked
into a sunny face, in spite of his obvious misery. Chestnut hair and a long
braid down to the waist. The boy offered to go with him. Quatre had accepted
his offer, but not to take advantage of him. What had touched him was the
emaciated body and dirty clothes. But mainly the eyes... especially the eyes.
They were strangely violet and shone with some kind oschischief, almost as if
he was mocking Quatre and wanted to say: “Look at how we have to struggle to
survive, while you’re sauntering around here in your fancy outfit. Don’t see
you doing this, mister.”

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>Duo
took his hand and pulled him along in the direction of one of the little hotels
where his face was all too familiar. Quatre though, promptly turned around and
guided him to the luxurious hotel where he was staying. His father was trapped
in a meeting anyway. Never in his life had Duo seen so much luxury all in one
place. The building seemed to have come out of one of those movies he’d
happened to see when he had managed to sneak into the cinema once.

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>The
street life on L2 had made him what he was: a pugnacious and energetic guy.
There he had learned to never let his guard down and to take care of himself
with his swift hands. There was always the threat that you could get caught
while stealing an apple, that you could get offered money by the wrong person.
Sometimes he wondered how he\'d managed to keep himself relatively healthy. Rape
and abuse were no strangers to him. No, not rape technically. Prostitution
actually. Ever since he could remember, he’d refused to cut his hair, and more
than once he’d had to bear the consequences of that. A lot had seen him as a girl.
Not that it mattered all that much. Even now, he still refused to cut it and it
had grown into a dark, golden waterfall that he wore proudly in a thick, long
braid. No one would be allowed to touch his hair, not if it were up to him. He
saw it as an intrusion when someone touched it without his permission. Still,
on more than one occasion he\'d had to allow strange hands to feel the silken
texture of his hair. Sometimes under the form of loving caresses, sometimes in
a rough grasp to keep him in place while he was being split in two. It was
during such moments he always wished more than anything to be somewhere else,
with his friends, the other street kids. They knew how he felt, after all, they
had to go through the same humiliation. He found support with them, they were
his family. Everyone looked after everyone else.

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>He
had to look twice, rub his eyes and look again when he saw how much money the
blonde boy shoved his way.

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>“How
many times do I have to let you fuck me for that?” he exclaimed.

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>“You
don’t have to let me fuck you at all,” Quatre smiled. “You can have it.”

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>“Just
like that?” Duo asked distrustfully. There had to be more to this, no doubt
about it.

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>“Yes,”
Quatre nodded with sincere eyes.

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>“I
don’t want charity.”

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>“I
insist,” Quatre urged. “Go on. Take it. It’s for you.”

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>Everything
had laws rul rules, just the same as the street. One of those rules was to
never blindly trust someone.

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>“Why
are you giving me all this money? That’s not how it works. When you take a
whore with you, you are supposed to fuck him and pay him, not talk to him,” Duo
said.

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>“So?
I\'ve paid you haven\'t I?” Quatre said simplistically, shrugging his shoulders.

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>“Yes,
but for what? You take me with you, and all you do is talk. Why are you giving
me all that money if you aren\'t going to fuck me?” Duo repeated his question.

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>“Listen,
Duo. You might look like a whore, you might act like a whore, but you don’t
have the eyes of a whore. You have the eyes of a very sweet boy who’s had too
few chances in life,” Quatre said.

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>“I’ve
had plenty of chances, thank you. I just let them pass. After my parents died I
had family to take me in, but I\'d rather live on the streets than live as a
parasite. And that’s why you can keep your money,” Duo muttered.

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>Quatre
placed his hands on his hips and looked at him through narrowed eyes. “Duo,
when I pay, I can do to you whatever I want, right?” he asked.

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>Duo
nodded.

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>“Good.
Then I want you to undress and take a bath. When you’re done, you can pick
something out of my closet to wear.”

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>“But…”

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>“Right
this instant!” Quatre said and pointed to the bathroom.

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>Duo
shrugged and slouched off to the bathroom. He took his bath, albeit against his
will, although he had to admit it felt nice to be clean for once. After having
spent enough time in the bathroom to appease Quatre, he put on a robe and
entered the room again. To his surprise, he had to conclude his clothes were
gone.

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>“Where
are my clothes?” he asked Quatre, who was absently staring out the window.

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0po-ano-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>“Threw
them away.”

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>“You
threw them away?!”

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>“Yes,
I threw them away. Otherwise you never would’ve accepted clean clothes, but you
would’ve just dressed yourself in those old rags again. Besides, they were
torn.” Quatre smiled at him and opened his closet with a generous gesture.
“Choose.”

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>Duo
cluelessly stared from Quatre to the contents of the closet, then to Quatre
again.

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>Quatre
noticed his hesitation. “Duo, you’ve got two choices here,” he said. “Either
you go back out on the street totally in the nude, or you pick something. What
will it be?”

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>“Why
are you doing this for me?” Duo asked helplessly. “Are you doing this for my
pretty eyes or are you planning on fucking me sore after this?”

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>“Your
eyes indeed, are very pretty, and no, I have no intention of fucking you sore
after this. I’m already seeing someone, he’s waiting for me at home, so you
don’t have to be afraid I’ll do such things.”

s=\'f=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:1t;mst;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>He?
He was gay? So he knew how it felt? Well, that was beyond him. How could
someone voluntarily choose to feel that kind of pain?

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>Pain?
If he should believe Quatre, there was no pain at all. Well, maybe a little.
Preparation was the key.

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>Oh
yeah, preparation. Duo had heard about that, although his customers rarely took
the time to prepare him, and if they did, it was so-so.

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>He
had a lot to thank Quatre for. Fourteen years old he had been then. He had met
professor G, who trained him for the upcoming war. In the mean time he stayed
with Quatre. He had tasted luxury and wealth, the kind of generosity he had
refused in his twelfth year and consequently had seen him end up on strestreets.
"Keep your money, I don’t want it," he had said more than once to
Quatre. But Quatre kept on insisting. He had met his boyfriend too. Nice guy,
although he kept himself a bit aloof. Trowa was his name. They too would fight
in the war, and had their own personal trainers.

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>Quatre
was the one pulling him out of his misery, taking him with him and making sure
he would never have to go through it again. He had even founded homes for the
other children in Duo’s neighborhood. If he hadn’t met Quatre, he’obabobably
still be selling his body and eating rock hard bread. Quatre had never given
him an exact reason for why had done all that. Maybe his heart had bled to see
what kind of poverty reigned there may maybe he had felt guilt for all the
injustice, or maybe he was tired of his money. No matter what the reason
though, Duo was eternally grateful to him. He was happy with the life he had
now. The war was over, he had a job at Preventer, had a girlfriend that
idolized him and a house he lived in with said girlfriend. In brief, life was
good. Yeah, life was superb. Or so he thought.

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'> 

style=\'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU\'>To
be continued…