Author's note:

As promised, I've prepared teaser summaries for my future projects. But rather than cluttering up the AN with these summaries (which might not even interest you in the least) I decided to post them to my profile page. So you can just look them up if you're curious. You might not realize it but two of my current WIP's are pretty close to completion (3-5 chapters) which means I'll be starting new stories as soon as those get wrapped up.

I had fun writing this one-shot, I hope you will enjoy reading it!

WARNING: Rated M for language and suggestive themes.

One in a million

Only one thing is certain in the life of a gay man; dicks. You are going to suck a lot of them. You are going to meet a lot of them. Or so characteristically cynical Heero Yuy believed. Therefore it took some convincing – in the form of a potent concoction of bribery, blackmailing and cruel and unusual torture – to get him to agree to go on the blind date that his 'friend' had arranged for him. A 'friend' who earned those sarcastic quotation marks, with the immoral methods he had resorted to; even expecting him to believe he was actually doing him a favor by giving his 'social life' a 'gentle push'. Yes, Heero's life was full of derisive quotation marks.

The momentous day on which the blind date would take place had arrived and Heero got out of bed after a sleepless night, feeling nauseous. He had never exactly been a social butterfly, but especially over the last year he had let his social skills wither to the point where nods and grunts came more naturally to him than actual words, let alone a string of words that might be considered a coherent sentence. He didn't like engaging in activities he knew he wouldn't excel at, so the prospect of spending an evening maintaining the back-and-forth of the contrived ritual of getting-to-know-someone was as daunting as it was frustrating.

During the course of his entire life he had only met four people he genuinely liked; a fondness he sparsely expressed. There was no reliable way to determine how many people he had actually met in the thirty-one years he had roamed the earth, so he could not calculate the percentage of hits and misses precisely. Hits being the four people he ended up having affection for – all in a purely platonic sense -, misses being everyone else. But he expected it to be close to the mythical 'one in a million'. Any reasonable guesstimation would confirm his standing impression of mankind, namely that an overwhelming majority of them were dicks; not worth his trust, never mind his love. So what were the odds that his 'friend' had been able to find someone that Heero would be able to stand?

Mumbling under his breath he left his apartment after taking a shower and getting dressed. Since he wouldn't have time to come back to his home to change in preparation for his date he would have to suffer wearing slacks and a button-up shirt the entire day, hoping his jacket would make it through the day wrinkle-free as he took it from place to place, refusing to wear it. His regular style was much more casual, certainly too casual for a date at the kind of place his 'friend' had made reservations at. Heero preferred jeans and v-neck T-shirts. The suit he wore was the only suit he owned and he hated every occasion he had been forced to wear it.

He drove downtown to his regular coffee shop, owned by another friend, for a strong morning brew, the kind one could only stomach with a foundation of breakfast in the form of the complementary croissant.

It was quiet in the coffee shop. There was only a single customer, an old man seated in the corner who was there every day, at every hour Heero happened to stop by. One of these days, he realized as he walked in and the bell chimed to announce his entry, he would have to ask Trowa if the man actually ever left. How Trowa kept his business afloat with only two customers, as it appeared, was beyond Heero's comprehension. He had a feeling it might have something to do with Trowa's extraordinarily rich boyfriend Quatre – also known as Heero's best 'friend'.

The barista stood behind the counter, leaning back against the glass cabinet that displayed a selection of coffee beans and grinds from around the world. Balanced on his splayed hand was a book that had his undivided attention. Heero knew the tall man well enough to know the book was second-hand and definitely a biography. Quatre sometimes expressed concern that Trowa was so preoccupied with reading about other peoples' lives that he might forget to live his own. Heero didn't understand his concern, enjoying a good book was a perfectly decent way to live one's life. He himself would pick a good book over poor company any day and as was the case with Trowa, biographies appealed more to Heero than fiction. They usually exchanged books if they had come across something particularly interesting that was worth sharing.

Without looking up from the text, Trowa mumbled: "Goodmorning, Heero."

"Goodmorning. I see you've finished 'A long walk to freedom'."

"Hm. Finished it last night." He continued to read until he was satisfied and then slipped a folded coffee filter into the book to mark the page before putting it down and starting work on Heero's breakfast of choice. "I'm reading 'The Quitter' now. The author was a professional pessimist. You would have liked him."

"Some say pessimist, some say realist," Heero argued with a shrug.

"Some say coward," The remark was made with a tiny smirk.

"I see your boyfriend has been keeping you well-informed. Not wanting to go on a blind date out of fear I'm being set-up with another jerk is not cowardice."

"Not living your life out of fear is cowardice."

"Just give me my breakfast, coffee-boy." He took the mug of black coffee and the plate with the warm croissant that was pushed across the counter towards him and carried it to a near table. Trowa followed and took a seat across from him, watching with his intensely green eyes as Heero spread butter and jam on the croissant and took a number of big bites before daring the first sip of scalding hot coffee.

"Is that what you're wearing tonight?"

Heero glared at his friend. "It's a nice suit, it's perfectly appropriate."

"Yes, but… not so much if you've been wearing it all day. And let me guess, your jacket is on the backseat of your car."

"It'll be fine."

"It'll smell of pine car-freshener."

He rolled his eyes. "I don't really care."

"You shouldn't sabotage this date before it has even started. You should make a good first impression."

"Why? I'd only ruin it with the second impression." At Trowa raising his eyebrow at him Heero explained: "I'm fully aware I'm as much of an insufferable jerk as the rest of the population of North America."

"How insightful of you…"

He chewed thoughtfully and reached for the newspaper on the table, only to realize it was yesterday's.

Halfway through his breakfast the Japanese man couldn't stop himself from asking about his date. Quatre had been less than forthcoming. Usually the blonde happily shared every detail of his life and Heero had always been perfectly content to listen to his rambling, yet Quatre had had nothing to say about this friend of his. "So… have you met him? This… Duo Maxwell?" He pronounced the name like it was a dirty word.

"A couple of times, yeah."

He hesitated to ask, but decided he had to be as well-prepared for catastrophe as he could be, so he feigned a casual demeanor as he inquired: "What's he like?"

"He's a nice guy," Was Trowa's instant reply. The tall man casually started leafing through yesterday's paper.

"Nice?" Heero knew what that meant. Through his limited social experiences he had learned that people call someone 'nice' when they don't actually have anything specific or positive to say about that person and that either meant they didn't know them very well, or didn't really like them, but were too polite to say so. "That's all, just 'nice'?"

"He's the nicest guy ever."

Still not much of a compliment as far as Heero was concerned.

"Honestly, he might actually be too nice for you."

"Thanks."

Trowa grinned.

Heero thanked him for the coffee and the completely useless intelligence on his blind date and headed out the door. He had an early appointment at a local commodity broker, the firm was looking to update and optimize their website and in the area Heero had built up quite a reputation as a self-employed web developer. His days consisted of going from client to client, discussing their wishes, the possibilities and presenting them with the product at various stages of development. He dreaded the necessary presentations and the meddling of executives who clearly lacked any knowledge of web design, but he loved the part of his job that allowed him to sit at his desk, in the glow of his laptop. To him the keyboard sounded like a concert piano as he typed code at unrivaled speed. The intricacies of computers he understood, people not so much.

At lunch time he was in his car, speeding down the highway, trying to eat a greasy burger he had picked up at a fast food joint. While minding the traffic, his phone rang. In his hurry he had made the mistake of not getting his phone out of his pants' pocket before getting into the car. It was buzzing relentlessly but he couldn't answer it with his seatbelt on. Worried it was an important work-call he fumbled to undo his seatbelt, cursing as his lunch fell into his lap and then rolled onto the carpet, between his feet. He glared at the greasy, mustard stain in his lap. He put his phone in the cellphone mount on his dashboard and answered the call, putting the device on speaker.

"He- Hello?" He was distracted by the task of fastening his seatbelt before some asshole would flash a 'STOP' sign and write him a ticket. He knew he shouldn't think like that, given the fact that one of his friends was a cop, but sometimes he couldn't help it.

"Good afternoon, Heero," Said Quatre in his usual, chipper manner.

"You," He shot back. He didn't bother to veil his dismay.

"I'm just calling to remind you of your date tonight as well as the dire consequences if you bail."

"I'm well aware of the consequences." He reached for the paper take-away bag on the passenger seat and fished out a tissue. He dabbed the paper on the stain on his crotch but to no avail, if anything he was just spreading the mess around. "Fuck."

"What?"

"Nothing. Having a bad day."

"Well, turn that frown upside down!" He chuckled at the cliché. "I need you to be on your best behavior tonight."

"I don't understand why you are so invested in getting me to date."

A sigh crackled through the line. "I want you to be happy."

"I am happy!"

"I know you believe that. I believed that too. I believed I was perfectly happy alone. But then I met Trowa and I realized that what I had was not happiness."

"I'm not like you," Heero grumbled, shifting his gaze between the truck he was about to pass by and the dark stain on his pants.

"I believe we are more alike than you think. I didn't see it for a long time. You were so… impermeable. But then I saw how hurt you were when he-"

Heero hastily interrupted him: "I'm on my way to a meeting, Quatre. Can we please not talk about this right now?"

"Now I see a lot of myself in you," The other continued. "We've both been betrayed by someone we loved and I see you making the same mistakes that I did trying to get over it. I'm telling you that you don't need to go through this trial-and-error phase of trying to cope. Removing yourself from society might seem like a good strategy for self-preservation but you're just killing yourself slowly. You need someone in your life. Please, give this date a chance. One date. One chance."

Too frustrated to continue the discussion he agreed: "Fine! But you have to at least tell me something about this guy."

"He's a really nice guy!"

Heero threw his gaze up at the ceiling. "And?"

"Don't worry about it. He's the nicest guy, you'll like him."

The word 'nice' was absolutely meaningless to him.

"This will be good for you," Quatre insisted.

"Right, right. I feel better already," He snarled. "I'm nearly at my destination. I'm hanging up now, doctor Phil."

The other barely managed to say his goodbye before the line was abruptly disconnected.

After work Heero had promised to stop by WuFei and Sally, the other two of the total of four people he liked in the world, although Quatre was risking elimination with his well-intended meddling. Sally had quit her career as a pediatrician to focus her care on her own child. She had fully embraced the role of stay-at-home mom following the birth of their baby girl, taking up homely hobbies such as knitting, embroidery, flower arranging and home decorating. After sharing her skills on online forums for a while, she had asked Heero for help setting up her own website with instructional videos and inspirational blogs. It wasn't really Heero's niche, he was used to making corporate websites, so the fifty shades of pink, the playful fonts and the frilly trims were new to him but he certainly owed WuFei a favor for using his influence as a police officer to get one particular dick out of his life, little over a year ago. He was happy to help Sally update her website every two weeks or so.

The family was having dinner when he rang the doorbell but he was warmly welcomed inside by Sally. She offered him a plate but he refused. When she asked why, her husband helpfully supplied:

"He has a date."

Sally's eyes lit up. "That's wonderful!" Her face scrunched up as she noticed Heero's dead expression. "It's not wonderful?"

"It's a blind date," WuFei elaborated.

"That's not wonderful," She decided, but added optimistically: "Although, you could be pleasantly surprised! In any case it's a good thing for you to get out there again."

With a sigh the Japanese man wondered out loud: "Why does everyone keep saying that? I've never been anywhere other than 'out there'."

Sally and WuFei shared a look at the obvious case of denial. Even Heero himself recognized he was lying through his teeth.

"Sweety," She said, addressing Heero, "Don't you agree it is time for you to pursue a healthy, loving relationship?"

He shrugged, hoping to brush off the issue. "I don't really like being in a relationship anyway."

She looked at him sympathetically. "Honey, you have every reason to be distrustful. But don't say bullshit like that."

"Sally!" WuFei reached over and covered the ears of their one-year-old daughter.

She continued unabashedly. "Everyone saw how happy you were with him, before. You can have that again, with someone else, with someone you can trust, someone who won't screw you over."

"Jesus!" The single man burst. "You people are giving me a whole new reason for hating this fucking date."

"For crying out loud!" WuFei called with wide eyes, nodding at the little girl in her high chair, watching the commotion with big, innocent eyes.

"Sorry! But not only am I going to have to sit through dinner with some random weirdo Quatre drummed up – probably guilt-tripped the man into agreeing with this set-up – but I also have to hear all day long about what happened last year!"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Sally shushed, approaching him to lay a hand on his shoulder.

He pushed away her hand. "No! I don't need you to comfort me! I'm fine. I'm fucking fine!"

"You know what? It's beddie-bye-bye-time," The Chinese man cooed to his daughter, just as she was starting to look upset, with all the shouting going on. "Say nighty-night to mommy and uncle Hee-chan." He picked her up and carried her upstairs, exchanging looks with his wife.

"Can we please get to work on the website? I don't want to be late for my very important date. After all, my entire well-being depends on it," He sneered.

Sally sighed in resignation. "Sure."

There was an uncomfortable silence between the two of them, broken only by necessary questions and answers that were phrased as curtly as possible. Heero was distracted as well, his mind kept wandering. Maybe his friends were right, maybe it would be better for him to 'get back into the game' but that was scary and he felt like he had the right to spare himself the risk of any kind of heartache after what happened. He didn't know what the usual allotted timeframe was for getting over something like that, but it was so much easier to stretch his solitude a little longer.

After forty-five minutes he mumbled quietly: "I'm sorry for yelling."

Sally smiled at him. "I'm sorry for being a pushy bitch."

He chuckled.

"Heero. If you really aren't ready for this date, I don't think you should feel obliged to go."

He shook his head. "No, I'll go." At that point he saw at least one benefit to seeing it all the way through. He was certain the date would go horribly and in fact, he hoped spectacularly so. The more horrible the date would be, the more he could throw that in Quatre's face and ensure that the blonde – or any of his other friends – would never set him up with anyone ever again, regardless of how 'nice' the guys they had in mind were. "Do you know this Duo?"

"Not really. I only met him once. He seemed-"

"Nice?" Heero interjected.

"Yeah."

He snorted. "So everyone keeps telling me."

"It's not what WuFei would say."

He raised his eyebrows at that statement. "It's not?"

"He has met him a couple of times. But you know WuFei..."

With his interest piqued he pressed: "What would WuFei say about him?"

She chewed the inside of her cheek, reluctant to be completely forthcoming, but when Heero urged her to be honest, she said: "He has described him as… loudmouthed and irresponsible."

Heero smiled. He had always known he had a similar outlook on life and people as WuFei. It was good to know there was someone out there who was equally cynical. Too bad he was straight and happily married. "So how does Quatre know this guy? He never said."

"I don't really know. As far as I've understood it he works for Quatre, but I don't really know in what capacity."

"So he coerced some company employee into going on a date with me?" He retorted dryly. "I can imagine how that conversation went. 'Go on a date with my loser friend or you'll get fired'."

She frowned at his self-depreciation. "You're not a loser, Heero. And Quatre, or any of us, sure as Hell don't think so."

"I should go," Heero said curtly, getting up from his seat. "I don't want to make my knight in shining armor wait."

She accompanied him to the front door and gave him a kiss on his cheek, "For good luck," She said with a wink.

"Trust me, it will be the only smooch of the night." With a half-hearted wave he stepped off the porch and got back into his car. It was approximately a twenty minute drive to the restaurant Quatre had picked out. The place was far too fancy for Heero's taste, far too expensive as well. Luckily the perks of being bullied into a blind date by the CEO of a multi-national, billion dollar company was that Quatre would pay him back the expenses.

The French name of the restaurant arched over the centered entry, visible in the dusk as sparkling lights. He concluded his sense of dread was appropriate and warranted as he fought his way into his jacket and adjusted his tie. He took a deep breath before heading for the door. He was startled by the door opening just as he reached for the door handle. A doorman smiled at him and nodded politely and gestured for him to move further inside the restaurant, where the tall, pale maître d' was waiting for him behind a large book of reservations.

"Good evening, monsieur," Greeted the snobbish-looking ghoul. He even looked down at the obvious stain in Heero's pants with disdain.

"Reservations. Winner," He managed to croak.

He didn't even have to look, Quatre was a cherished patron of the restaurant. "Oui! You are a little early, your company has not yet arrived. Would you like to be seated at your table or wait at the bar?"

"The table, please." He knew that if he ended up at the bar he would be tempted to order drinks until the nerves would go away – and it would take a very large consumption of alcohol to achieve that.

"Follow me, monsieur, I will show you to your table."

Heero was escorted to a table for two by the window overlooking the decorated patio and the lake beyond. The setting sun was on the left and the dusty moon was on the right, the expanse of sky faded from bright tones of orange and pink of the last daylight, to the soft hues of blue of nightfall.

"Please take you seat, your waiter will be with you shortly." He floated back to his post silently.

Immediately Heero could feel pairs of eyes staring at him. A quick glance confirmed that the group of three male friends – snotty rich kids - seated two tables over, were looking at him and discussing something among themselves in hushed tones. He took another deep breath, but he could already feel his heart starting to race. His fingers toyed with the napkin on the table in front of him, delicately folded into a swan.

"Good evening, sir."

He jumped at the waiter announcing his presence by way of greeting. He looked up at the tall man and hoped his eyes didn't widen to comical proportions as he appreciated the man's good looks, dressed in all black with a white waist apron. Eventually he realized the perfectly shaped mouth had been moving, but he hadn't heard a thing. Stupidly, he said: "Hi."

The waiter grinned and replied, with a Southern drawl that Heero had been too distracted to notice before: "Hi." The grin was reshaped into a more appropriate, polite smile and he started: "Are you by yourself this evening or are you waiting for someone?"

"Waiting for someone." His throat constricted as he spoke those words.

"Blind date?" The waiter accurately analyzed.

"Hn."

"Then I take it you would love a drink while you wait."

"Correct again," He admitted with a bitter chuckle. "Red wine, please."

"Any in particular? Cabernet Sauvignon, Pinot Noir, Port Vintage?"

"Just… any will be fine," He said, feeling his face go red, embarrassed at having his unsophistication show.

"Any red wine, coming right up."

Just as the waiter walked away one of the men from the other table got up from his seat and after some further encouragement from his friends, he walked up to Heero's table. The Japanese man felt his heart jump up into his throat when he noticed the man's approach. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and pretended to be busy unfolding his napkin and placing it in his lap, more to hide the existing stain than to prevent new damage.

Unfortunately the man was not deterred. He stopped at his table and leaned forward, saying 'Hi' to get his attention.

He looked up at him in alarm.

The man had a slight furrow to his thick eyebrows as he was scrutinizing the Japanese man's features carefully. "I'm sorry to bother you but… don't I know you from somewhere?"

With effort he managed to swallow the near-suffocating lump in his throat that was his panicked heart. Unable to speak, he merely shook his head, hoping the man would leave him alone, but no such luck.

"I swear I've seen you before somewhere." His frown deepened. "Have you done commercials or something?"

He was desperately shaking his head at the inquiry and prayed the man's memory would fail him.

Unfortunately one of his friends, who was still seated at their own table, suddenly jumped up and proclaimed excitedly: "Oh my God, now I remember!"

His loud voice caused every nearby guest to look up from their meals and take their refined noses out of their fine glasses of wine.

"He's 'The Screamer'!"

The man hunched over at Heero's table gasped. "Oh my… you're right!" He stared at the Japanese man with dark eyes. "You're 'The Screamer'."

"No," He kept shaking his head. "No, you're mistaken. I don't even know what you're talking about."

Suddenly the tall waiter appeared, without Heero's glass of wine. He noticed only because at that point he was in dire need of a drink. The waiter paid little attention to the rude man and instead laid a kind hand on Heero's shoulder. "Sir, I must apologize. There has been a mistake. Your reservation was for the VIP table. If you would please follow me, I'll escort you to the right table."

Grateful for the escape he got up in such a hurry he bumped into the waiter. He didn't even bother to apologize, he wanted to get away as quickly as possible so he headed back towards the bar. Behind him the waiter instructed him to go left around the bar and then managed to catch up with him. He took him around the corner to the other side of the restaurant and showed him to a small table in a poorly lit corner, right by the door to the kitchen. The waiter pulled out a chair.

"Is this really the VIP table?" Heero wondered as he took a seat. A bust-boy came bursting through the door and he could hear the sharp sounds of pots and pans banging together and a chef shouting orders.

"Actually, it's the worst seat in the house," The waiter admitted with a shrug. "But I figured to you it wouldn't be. Those guys really seemed to be bothering you."

He smiled in genuine gratitude. "Thank you."

"No problem. I'll bring you your wine shortly. Unless you'd like to change your order to something stronger?"

"No, please, just wine." Anything stronger and he would soon be a mess. He had discovered last year, when he was trying to dull his pain with alcohol, that he didn't hold his liquor very well. Although, in spite of that knowledge it still, at times, seemed like the best and easiest solution.

The waiter indeed returned shortly and served him his wine. As soon as he left again Heero took a big drink. It was a good wine, even his woefully crude palate could tell. But he didn't worry, Quatre would be paying for this train wreck after all. He felt his heart rate starting to go down. It had been a while since someone had recognized him, but he knew that was mostly thanks to his extensive efforts to keep away from people. With a shudder he remembered how bad it had been, especially the first few weeks, at that time everyone seemed to know who he was, even one of his clients. His 'popularity' had died down greatly after two or three months, but to his dismay he knew from experience that he still had some notoriety in the gay community; that became apparent the last time he dared to accompany Quatre and Trowa to a club.

He finished his drink with small, slow sips, savoring the taste on his tongue. When the glass was empty and he had nothing to distract him anymore he remembered why he was at the restaurant in the first place and he looked down at his wristwatch.

His date was nearly half an hour late.

The kind waiter appeared by the table with the bottle of wine. "Would you like a refill?"

He covered the glass with his hand to stop him from automatically pouring the red liquid into it. "No, thank you. Just water, please."

A few minutes later the waiter returned with a water carafe, the many ice cubes made delicate sounds against the glass as the clear liquid swayed slightly with his step. He poured him a big glass of water quietly and was then called to another table.

Heero finished his water before looking at his watch again. There was still no sign of his date and it was already forty-five minutes past the agreed time. He rubbed his temples. A headache swelled as he realized he was being stood-up. He produced his phone from his pocket and called Quatre. He ignored the displeased stares of the guests around him. He never understood why people got so worked up over someone using their phone in a restaurant, he would just be talking, exactly what they were doing.

"Heero, why are you calling? You're on your date!"

"Not quite," The Japanese man bit. "He's a no-show."

"That's not possible. He's such a-"

"Nice guy…"

"He is!" Quatre defended. "He's running a little late, that has to be it."

"Are you sure you told him to be here at eight?"

The other scoffed indignantly. "Of course I did." It seemed he bothered to look at a clock at that point and realized how late he was. "Oh."

Heero let out a deep sigh. More than anything he was relieved, but obviously there was a hint of frustration at walking around with a knot in his stomach all day at the prospect of the date-that-would-never-be.

"Give him fifteen more minutes, please. This is not at all like him, Duo is the nicest guy ever."

Right, he thought with a dramatic roll of his eyes. "Fifteen more minutes, then I'm walking out and you will never set me up on a date with anyone ever again." He said his goodbye gruffly and stuffed the phone back into his pocket. He was looking at his watch every minute or so from that moment on and the intervals only seemed to be getting shorter until he was actually watching the hand count the seconds.

"Is your date late?"

Heero looked up at the waiter, embarrassed. "Nearly an hour."

"Hm. Honey, he's not coming."

He nodded in agreement, but then realized: "Wait… How did you know it's a 'he'?"

He was slack-jawed momentarily as his mind raced to find a politically correct explanation.

Heero looked down at himself. "Is it that obvious?" He kept his tone light, to ensure the waiter understood that he wasn't offended.

He smirked slyly. "It takes a thief to catch a thief." He poured him more water, maintaining mischievous eye contact and then strutted off to tend to other guests.

Heero knew his cheeks were bright red, but he hoped the 'romantic' lighting hid the discoloration of his complexion. He looked down at his watch again and the short, thick hand on the clock face was squarely pointing at the nine. The date had been an inconvenience all day so it was annoying that all his troubles and concerns had been for nothing, but he was happy to not have to endure an evening of forced conversation. He took the napkin out of his lap and reached for his wallet to pay for the wine and the water and to give the kindhearted waiter a generous tip – Quatre was paying him back anyway. Before he had even opened the wallet the waiter had hurried to his table.

"Are you leaving so soon?"

"Like you said, he isn't coming."

"Well, don't let a dickwad like that ruin your evening."

Heero chuckled at the foulmouthed remark. "The evening was ruined before the day even started."

"Then let's salvage it. You've come all this way and the food here is really good." To emphasize his point he produced the leather-bound menu which he had been holding behind his back. "A boy's gotta eat. Might as well eat a rack of lamb." He added a playful wink.

"I don't know, it's been a long day and to have dinner in a restaurant by myself… seems unnecessarily pathetic."

"No one is going to pay attention to that. Food critics come here all the time, all by themselves."

Dryly he pointed out: "I'm not a food critic."

"Everyone's a food critic," Said the waiter with a roll of his eyes. "Besides, I'll keep you company."

He laughed. "Don't you have work to do?"

With a careless shrug he stated: "It's a slow evening and the more time I spend at your table, the less time I have to spend negotiating kiddie-friendly alternatives to our menu with 'octo-mom' over there," Inconspicuously he nodded at a table at the far side of the bar; a large round table that seated an overweight woman with a pearl necklace constricting her fourth chin, her sickly thin husband with dead eyes and eight fussing children, ranging from toddler to teenager. "Please," Begged the waiter, "I'll throw in a free chocolate cake for dessert."

After mulling it over a little longer he finally accepted the menu and opened it in front of him. "Chocolate cake seals the deal."

"You, sir, drive a hard bargain," He joked. "I'll give you some time to study the menu and I'll be right back to take your order."

It didn't take him long to make his choice. His mouth had started to water the exact moment the waiter jokingly mentioned rack of lamb. The mashed potatoes with truffle butter that complemented the lamb didn't sound off-putting either. He placed his order when the waiter returned and had him refill his glass of wine. In spite of the man's assurance that no one would think twice of a guy eating by himself, he did feel a little awkward and although the waiter made his best effort to entertain him, in between his transitory visits he was kind of bored. He ended up checking his phone a lot and busied himself deleting old messages and unused contacts.

When the waiter came to clear away the plate and cutlery of his appetizer he asked: "How are you hanging in there?"

"A little bored," He admitted.

"That's what I thought," He replied and then walked off abruptly, leaving Heero with a frown. Moments later the man returned and placed a worn, hardcover book on his table. "I keep this in my locker, to read during my breaks," He explained. "You're welcome to it, just be mindful the bookmark doesn't fall out."

Heero stared at the book with wide eyes.

"I know a biography might not seem very interesting, but trust me, it's really good."

"I know," The Japanese man said dumbly. "I've read it." He shook his head, dumbfounded. "I've read it several times actually, it's one of my favorites." He pulled the old, used copy of 'Into The Wild' towards him.

"No shit," The waiter remarked, equally amazed. "Me too. What are the odds…"

He looked up at him. "Yeah…" He frowned at himself.

The waiter was called over by 'octo-mom' and Heero opened the book and started to read. The evening was instantly transformed into a relaxing event. He was enjoying the fine wine, the great food and the interesting book. The sporadic company of the waiter was also undoubtedly pleasant. What were the odds…

Halfway through his delicious main course the three friends that had been bothering him earlier were about to leave the restaurant. While one of them asked the bartender for a light for the smoke he held cockily between his index and middle finger, one of the others spotted Heero from across the dining room. He jabbed his friend in the side and nodded at the lone figure by the kitchen door. Heero had noticed them, but pretended not to be aware of their staring and pointing, until the two of them started to make obscene noises – painfully familiar obscene noises. He desperately looked around for the waiter to come to his defense, but the man was apparently in the back. It was 'octo-mom' who turned around in her seat with an expression mean as piss and hissed at them: "Excuse me, I have children here."

They had a good laugh and then the three of them left, just as the waiter came through the kitchen door.

Heero flinched when he felt a hand land on his tense shoulders.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. It has been a while since I've had to deal with that. It's why I don't really like going out," He shared, being uncharacteristically candid and he didn't know why. Perhaps his friends had been right and he had been deprived of social contact for too long and now it was just spilling out of him inappropriately. He buried his red, hot face in his palms.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about. I've done stupid shit like that as well. Granted, mine wasn't as popular as yours…"

He lowered his hands and snapped his neck to look up at him. "What?"

The man chewed on the inside of his cheek and admitted apologetically. "I've seen it. Your video. 'The Screamer'? I didn't recognize you at first, but then when those guys- Sorry."

"Oh God."

He offered a sympathetic smile. "Don't be embarrassed. Seriously! Like I said, I've seen it and trust me when I say: You've got nothing to be embarrassed about. Those guys are just jealous. They don't look as good as you and they are certainly never going to be fucking anybody as good-looking as you."

He appreciated the pep-talk but it was too shameful to hear someone say those things about him.

"You must agree. Even if only a little bit. Why else would you put something out there?"

"I didn't!" He hurried to explain, feeling an old bitterness and anger bubble towards the surface. "I…" He looked around himself suspiciously and then confessed: "I didn't even know there was a camera."

"Jesus, are you for real?"

"My boyfriend – my ex-boyfriend… He hid a camera in his bedroom and recorded us while… I had no idea and I also didn't know he had posted it online, until one day I was recognized by someone at a café."

The waiter looked deeply disturbed.

"It sort of went viral and then it seemed like everyone had seen it. Had seen me-… It was also how I found out I wasn't the only one." He shook his head. He didn't even know why he was telling the waiter that deeply personal story, but he felt like he had to explain. He certainly didn't want anybody to think he willingly posted that video for the entire world to see; on all fours on his ex's bed, absolutely screaming in pleasure and begging him for more, harder, deeper, faster! Crying out like an animal in heat. When he had seen the video for himself, he had been disgusted. It was the most hideous thing he had ever seen. The recording had captured him in such a needy, raw and vulnerable state. Since then, he couldn't allow anybody to get close to him, if he let anyone get too close they would abuse his trust and exploit him.

"Jesus, what a dick! I'm so sorry that happened to you. That's fucking awful. Fuck, I thought it was just a 'hidden camera' gimmick. If I had known it was for real-" He stopped himself short of finishing his thought.

"What?"

Sheepishly he continued in a quiet tone: "I wouldn't have jerked off to it."

"Oh." His face went painfully red.

"I'm sorry," He added sincerely.

"No… No, it's-" He let out a breathless chuckle and managed a genuine smile. "It's a little weird, but it's fine."

The waiter smiled in return. "Then I'll back away slowly and leave you to enjoy your meal."

"Thank you." He watched him leave with a contemplative gaze. He had always figured everyone had been laughing at him, it never really occurred to him someone would have enjoyed the video for different reasons other than a laugh at his expense. He never expected anyone would think it was hot. That one time he watched it all he could think of was how disgusting it made him feel. He didn't believe anyone could see something exciting and arousing in the footage. It didn't make him feel any better about the video itself, but it did cause him to reevaluate the attention it had been getting, especially shortly after it was uploaded. If people had been watching it and sharing for 'the right reasons' he supposed that was better than the alternative he had always believed; that the entire world was mocking him and was as appalled by what they saw as he was.

He shook the thoughts out of his head, he didn't want his good mood to be negatively affected. It had happened over a year ago and he preferred to just forget about it. Unfortunately it seemed unavoidable that people would continue to remind him of the betrayal and the embarrassment that he had suffered.

He finished his meal and when he spotted the waiter, he called: "Waiter!" He was looking forward to his complementary chocolate cake. Chocolate was an even better accompaniment to the five stages of grief than alcohol; it was only thanks to his obsessive – and aggressive – exercising that he hadn't turned into a fat drunk. He figured the man was expecting him to give the all-clear before he was allowed to step into his personal space again.

"Feeling less weird?"

"Actually, yes."

The waiter started clearing the table and as he did he said: "You know, since we're sharing, I should tell you I'm not really a waiter."

Heero chuckled. "Let me guess, you're an actor." After his sarcastic remark he bit his lip, realizing he might have said something offensive.

He laughed. "No, I don't live a cliché."

"So what are you, then?"

With a slight purse of his lips he considered the question carefully before answering: "I guess nothing, really. I'm just not a waiter." He picked up the plate which had practically been licked clean. "Sure, four nights a week I wait tables, but I'm not 'a waiter'. I have a lot of other odd jobs."

"Yeah? What's the oddest job you have?" Inwardly Heero laughed at himself as he noticed he was using his best version of a flirtatious voice, it was even worse than the last time he used it. He was out of practice.

"Uhm. I guess… Watching over luxury houses when the owners go away for business."

"Really? Like, you actually live in their home while they are away?"

He smirked. "Yeah."

"Wow, I can't imagine how you are able to stand such hardship."

He laughed heartedly at my sarcastic joke.

"But you also don't identify yourself as a… 'luxury-house-sitter'?"

"No. I guess I just don't believe a job defines a person like that. I'm not the kind of guy that fits into boxes. I guess I wanted you to know that." He shrugged. "What about you?"

"I fit perfectly snugly in the web-developer-box. It's cozy, really."

He raised his eyebrows. "Web developer? Wow, that's actually pretty cool. I actually have a satirical, political blog, maybe I should get your number."

Heero blushed, he was pretty sure the waiter was using his flirtatious-voice as well.

"Still though, I don't believe web developer is all there is to you, so why would you use that as a title?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I guess 'accidental porn star' doesn't fit me any better, so why not?"

He laughed again and Heero noted it was a deep, delightful sound. Much to his amazement he realized he was actually attracted to the tall man.

"You know what, Heero? That guy is a real idiot for not showing up for your date. I'm sure he regrets it, or he'd be a real buffoon."

"Thanks."

With a cheeky grin he announced: "I'll go get you the chocolate cake I promised." He pivoted on his heels and walked away and Heero was sorry to see him go. He would happily trade the cake for more of the waiter's company. He watched as the man was delayed by 'octo-mom' who demanded her bill. Once she had paid and she and her entourage had vacated the restaurant Heero noticed there weren't many guests left, only a few tables were occupied and the dining room was comfortably quiet. The waiter instructed a bust-boy to clear and clean the large round table and then headed into the kitchen.

Heero read a couple more pages of the book, but hastily put it aside to give the handsome waiter his full attention when he returned, expertly balancing a plate on the tips of his fingers. He placed it in front of him and while it looked absolutely delicious with its layers of chocolate cake interspaced by layers of chocolate mousse, with hot, melted chocolate and caramel on top, the size of the thing was a little intimidating.

"I present to you: your dessert. I hope you'll enjoy it."

"I'm sure I will, but it's pretty big, I'm sure I won't be able to finish it."

He waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it." He made a courtesy, earning him a chuckle and then headed back into the kitchen, disappointing Heero who had hoped he would stick around a little longer, since there weren't many other guests left to tend to. Luckily he had an enormous chocolate cake to console him. He picked up the shiny, stainless steel fork and took his first, big bite. He had to swallow the appreciative moan that threatened to leave his lips and embarrass himself further should anyone have heard him. He never understood why he, a decidedly quiet person, was so vocal when he was enjoying something.

The kitchen door opened again, but Heero paid it little attention, enjoying his second bite, until the person dropped down into the seat across from his unannounced. Their knees knocked together under the small table.

With his mouth full of chocolate cake he was rendered speechless but his perplexed expression spoke volumes. Seated across from him was the waiter, dressed in casual attire; a dark pair of jeans and a blue V neck shirt.

"Hi," Said the man with an impish grin. "Sorry I'm late. Someone called in sick at work, I was supposed to get off at six, but they made me stay the entire evening to cover his shift."

Heero's expression went from perplexed to utterly dumbfounded.

"Right, I'm sorry. Geez, where are my manners today?" He leaned forward and reached his hand across the table.

Hesitantly Heero put down the fork and shook the waiter's hand.

"Hi, I'm Duo Maxwell."

Heero's blue eyes widened comically. "You- You're Duo?"

His smile was beaming. "Sure am."

Still dazed by the astounding revelation he asked dumbly: "You're Quatre's friend?"

"Well, I wouldn't say friend as much as his regular waiter and occasional house-sitter. But you know how I feel about those labels so, yeah… sure… his 'friend'."

"I… What?"

Duo chuckled sympathetically. "Look, all joking aside. I really am sorry for making you think you were being stood up. They did force me to cover the shift of this guy. I know I should have said something, but honestly, I had been dreading this date all day. I've went on a lot of blind dates back in the day and it wasn't good. Quatre told me you were a 'really nice' guy, but frankly, what the fuck am I supposed to think when all they say about someone is 'Oh, he's nice'? The world is full of assholes and I've met a lot of guys who were supposedly 'nice guys'. So I was kind of worried and I figured I could abuse the unfortunate turn of events by seeing what kind of guy you were first, make sure you're not a serial killer before I'd blow my cover."

"And it took you all night to figure that out?"

"Honestly, I still can't be sure you're not a serial killer," He said with a wink, "But I like you and I had fun talking to you. I didn't want to ruin that by dropping the I'm-your-blind-date bomb prematurely. Blind dates are always the worst and everyone is so nervous and uptight that it never amounts to anything anyway."

Heero shook his head, slowly getting over the initial shock. "So Quatre only told you I was a nice guy?"

Duo nodded. "Yeah and now I know he meant that as a genuine compliment. But my mother, rest her soul, she always turned the common expression 'If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all', into: 'If you don't have anything nice to say, just say it's 'nice'. So when someone says 'He's nice' I always figure they don't actually have anything positive to say about them, or they would be more specific." He snorted at himself. "Apparently I was wrong." Then he let out a rumbling chuckle. "I do this by the way; I ramble."

Heero started laughing, causing Duo to frown. At the odd looks he was getting he assured him: "Nothing, it's nothing."

"I meant what I said. Your blind date is a real idiot for not showing up and he sure as Hell regrets it."

Heero bit his lip in an attempt to hide his smile.

"So," Duo drawled and he produced a fork which he pointed at the cake. "Can I join you for dessert so we can have our date after all?"

"Sure." Still bewildered at the turn of events he watched Duo dig into the cake and take a big bite. A smile came to his lips unabashedly when the handsome man let out a drawn out moan at the taste.

Duo paused, the second forkful of cake halfway up to his mouth. "What?"

"Nothing." He took another bite as well. They were so different and yet, in some remarkable aspects, they were exactly the same. It made Heero excited to find out what else they had in common and what new things Duo could introduce him to. It turned out Quatre was a better matchmaker than he had given him credit for.

Duo Maxwell was one in a million.

Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thought on this! Should I write more one-shots?

Thank you all so much for supporting me this year! Be safe this New Year's Eve and I wish you all an amazing 2015! Be happy and be healthy!