"In a rare moment of respite from the hard work of farming, Jacob and I enjoyed a humorous interlude the other day. His new puppy got into the hen house, and sent the chickens scattering out the door and into the barnyard. As he felt responsible, Jacob immediately set to rounding up the hens, which was the source of the amusement. He spent over an hour chasing them, while they dodged, fluttered, squawked, and flew about the place. I tried to tell him that if you simply leave the door open, they'll find their way back in at dusk. But he was insistent, worried that while they were out foraging they might be picked off by foxes or hawks. By the time that boy had the last chicken corralled, he was a muddy, filthy, exhausted mess. But...I had to admire his sheer determination. He was a tenacious young man, a fact that made me inordinately proud of him, even while I was laughing myself silly..."

--excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton

Smoky Hills Part 15
Sending a Clue

"What took so long?" Trowa asked, when Heero walked into the house with the milk and bread. "Wing got loose and I spent over half an hour trying to catch his sorry ass."

"Don't complain to me. He's your damned bird," Heero said snidely, putting away the food before looking over the somewhat disheveled man. "You didn't hurt your knee--?"

Trowa glared back. "Oh, now you care." He folded his arms across his chest, scowling. "No, I didn't hurt my knee. But my armpits could use a break from having the crutches shoved up under them!"

"Where's Wing now?"

"I finally lured him in with his favorite treats," Trowa sighed. "And then I threw a pillowcase over him and wrestled him back into his cage."

"For Heaven's sake, he's a four-ounce bird! How much wrestling could've been involved?" teased his roommate.

"That depends. When you've got a crutch in one hand and a bird in a sack in the other--"

Heero chuckled. "Sorry I missed it." He sat opposite Trowa and his expression turned pensive. "I had a small altercation of my own to deal with."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Looks like our mailman has a bit of a problem with some local homophobes."

Trowa's eyes widened, and then a triumphant grin split his face. "I told you he's gay! I just knew it!"

Heero rolled his eyes and nodded. "Yes, Trowa, you were right. Happy?"

"Deliriously!"

"Get over yourself," Heero chided. "The poor guy was about to get the shit kicked out of him when I stepped in."

"Really?"

"I saw the whole thing in the security mirror. They ganged up on him, and one was going to hold him still while the other beat him up." His face darkened. "At least, I think that's all it was--"

"You think?"

"Well, one of them made some pretty suggestive remarks." An image of Duo's flushed face and the panicked look in his eyes when Otto had his arms restrained, flashed into Heero's mind. He scowled darkly. "Jesus, Trowa, I thought small towns were supposed to be full of kindly shopkeepers and friendly waitresses--not rapists and thugs!"

"You don't seriously think they planned to--?"

"Who the hell knows?" Heero shrugged. "It's not like Duo stayed around to explain, after the girl at the store 'outted' him. He took off like his braid was on fire."

Trowa's eyes softened with sympathy. "Poor kid. Probably embarrassed as hell--" He fixed a stern look on Heero. "You might've spoken up and said it was okay--that you understood or something--"

"I didn't get the chance. Seriously. He froze right up and then left before I could so much as blink."

Heero frowned, picturing the sheer mortification on Duo's face again. And then he recalled the moment just before that, when Duo had turned away to slip on the new shirt, revealing for a bare instant muscular shoulders and a lean torso ending in a trim waist. The braid had slithered over one shoulder as he pulled the shirt down, swinging hypnotically back and forth before settling along his spine and caressing his ass.

"Oh, Heero," Trowa said knowingly.

"What?" he snapped.

"You like him--"

"I do not!"

"Okay--maybe 'like' isn't the right word," Trowa corrected himself quickly, and then quirked a coy smile. "You want him. Or at least, his body--"

"Shut it, Trowa."

The auburn-haired man laughed gaily. "Shit! I'm right!"

"Are not," came a petulant mumble. "I feel badly for him, okay? That's all. He doesn't deserve to have a couple of perverts bullying him because of his sexual preferences. I mean, he's a decent guy."

"Since when?" Trowa pushed.

"Since he apologized for the damage to the mail, and brought Thor home," Heero admitted. "It's pretty obvious he's not the ass I took him for at first."

"Ah, if only he knew the same about you--" Trowa lamented, resisting the temptation to add a line about Heero "taking the ass" of the cute mailman.

"Well, I'd like to think he does, since I helped chase off the shitheads who were ganging up on him," Heero said wryly.

"So you did," came a musing response. "And yet you say you aren't interested in him? I think you're a liar--or at least in serious denial."

Heero narrowed his eyes. "If anyone's 'interested,' I'd think it'd be you," he pointed out. "Weren't you the one going on about how my description didn't do him justice--and what a nice guy he was?"

"Yes, but far be it from me to try to slip in on your action--"

Heero frowned at his roommate. "It's not my action. I mean, he's not." A frustrated crease settled on his forehead. "Stop talking like I want a quick piece of ass! You know me better than that, Trowa. I don't do casual sex."

"Maybe it's time you started," came a half-serious response. "It's been a long time since you and--"

"Stop right there!" Heero snapped. "Don't even say the name, dammit!"

"Okay. Jeeze! Touchy--"

"Yes, I am. You know that. I don't want you harping on the subject of my ex--any more than I want you pushing me to jump into bed with the mailman."

"I'm not suggesting you 'jump into bed.' I am saying maybe you should ask the guy out. Give him half a chance. He seemed like a nice guy. And it's for damn sure he's hot. If he was getting bullied by local jackasses, I'm willing to bet he's unattached, too, or there'd be a nice down-home hunk to stick up for him." Trowa's green eyes softened. "Why don't you buy him a cup of coffee--to thank him for bringing Thor home? Unless you can think of a better lame excuse."

"I did not come to this wilderness to strike up an acquaintance with anyone. I came for you, Trowa." Heero frowned at his partner. "Considering my own issues, I'm probably not in any frame of mind to start a relationship, either. And it's not about my ex; it's about my mis--" He caught himself sharply, recalling stern corrections from his therapist. "It's about the accident," he finished carefully. "I need time to put that behind me. You know that."

"I do," came a sympathetic reply. "But I think socializing with a nice guy like Duo might help along those lines."

"And you know him so well," Heero drawled sarcastically.

"I know he likes dogs, is easily startled by screaming parrots, has a soft spot for someone on crutches, can't say 'no,' if you use big, sad eyes on him, and that he's fascinated by the history of this place." Trowa looked a bit smug. "Yes, actually. I think I've got a pretty good handle on what kind of guy he is."

"Then why don't you ask him out?"

"Because it's obvious to me that you're interested." Trowa's green eyes hardened fractionally. "And as you pointed out--I like blondes."

"Tro', I'm sorry about that," Heero said quickly, his regret genuine. "It was a cheap shot, and I shouldn't have taken it."

"It's okay," Trowa relented, having made his point. "It's not like I haven't taken cheap shots of my own over the years."

"Yes, but--"

"It's water under the bridge," insisted the other man. "So let's focus on more timely things, shall we? For instance--" He gestured to a stack of papers on the table. "--I got the permit requirements from Sanc, complete with application forms and templates of reference letters we'll have to request. And I noticed the name of the approving official."

Heero raised an eyebrow curiously, and took the page Trowa held out. He scanned quickly down the lines of information, skipping to the line for an approver to sign. "Zechs Merquise?" he blurted in dismay. "Are you fucking kidding me? Merquise is the head of the permit department?"

Trowa nodded.

"Since when?"

"Apparently since January first of this year."

"Fuck!"

Trowa smiled wryly. "I said the same thing--the very minute I realized we'll have to do some serious ass-kissing to get Relena's brother to sign off on our permits to handle exotics."

"There's no way!" Heero growled. "Even if I could make myself grovel for that pompous ass, it wouldn't offset the fact that I used his sister to get closer to him."

"First off, it's going to be my name on the permit, so maybe it'll slide through without him really noticing. After all, he's just the big-shot who signs the final approval--someone else does the investigating. And secondly, you don't know how much Relena might have said to him. Maybe it's not as big a deal as you think."

"And if it is?"

"He's not the only one at the permit office. I'm sure we could talk to a different department head and ask for an impartial review--appeal it if he denies it."

"Do you know how rare it is to overturn a denial?"

"As rare as finding a gorgeous gay guy in a hick town in the hills?" Trowa quipped. He smirked at his friend. "Ask him out--" he hissed in a teasingly suggestive whisper.

Heero finally cracked a smile. "You have such a one-track mind. Give it up, Barton!"

"Never."

Trowa shuffled the papers a bit, pulling out the second sheet. "Anyhow, Zechs Merquise aside, Catherine's going to help us with the delivery of the papers and stuff--get the recommendations lined up. She suggested that in the meantime, we should probably concentrate on the local zoning issues."

"Well, with nearly two hundred acres, there can't be that many limitations on what you can do with the land--" Heero pointed out.

"True. But we'll need to take into consideration the space and fencing requirements for each species we'll be handling. It sure as hell wouldn't do for us to have an escape, considering what we're dealing with."

"That's more an issue for the permit, isn't it? We'll have to have federal inspectors approve the containment and housing." Heero frowned, looking at the pile of papers. "It might not hurt to check into insurance coverage, too."

The two men settled down to more of Trowa's list-making, marking down the order in which forms would need to be filed, and what tasks would have to be done before anyone came to look over the facility.

Their consensus was that when it came right down to it, as long as they weren't violating any local zoning ordinances, there was no reason to advertise their activities around town.

As Heero pointed out, the Barton clan was known for being secretive and antisocial. When he posted a slew of new "no trespassing" signs, he figured the locals would assume the new resident was no different. He just hoped it discouraged trespassers, rather than making them take it as a challenge.

"Guess we'll find out," Trowa said with a shrug. He gave his roommate a quick head-to-toe glance then, and shook his head. "You look beat--"

"Who me? Let's see--up half of last night hunting for Thor, and then taking care of him--up at dawn to start calling vets--the four hours of driving, along with a couple at the office--capped off with a near-brawl at the convenience store." Heero rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you could say I'm a bit tired."

"Go to bed, then," Trowa suggested. "I wanna go on-line and look up some more data for animal housing. And as slow as it is, with the fucked-up dial-up here, it could take awhile. I'll take Thor out on the leash for a last piddle when I'm done, okay? And Balder, too."

"Thanks," Heero said simply, not even arguing about how Trowa would manage the dogs and the crutches. He knew his friend would figure it out.

Trowa waited just until Heero disappeared around the corner, and then headed for the computer, pulling out his credit card as he did so. He'd just had a flash of inspiration. If Heero was going to be stubborn about approaching the cute mailman, well, maybe Trowa could encourage Duo to make the first move.

And how would he do that? Well--sending a clue would be a good start.

He logged onto the internet, tapping his fingers restlessly on the desk, and cursing the lack of cable in their remote location. He'd have to look into getting a satellite dish, which would at least allow somewhat faster connections. But meanwhile, stuck with old-fashioned dial-up service, all he could do was wait for the page to slowly load, and then smirk triumphantly.

"Yes--let's see. Keywords: magazines, gay lifestyle."

He was rewarded with a massive list of potential publications, and his grin spread as he took out a subscription in the name Heero Yuy.

TBC...

 

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