Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Denial ❯ forked brow snoop ( Chapter 15 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Disclaimers: Gundam Wing and the g-boys aren’t mine. I gain no profit from this fic, but the story is mine and unfortunately so is Quin. ‘nuf said.

Warnings: POV shifts, shonen ai, angst, see first chap for full spiel.

Pairings: burgeoning 1x2, 3x4, 5xS, Solox?. . .

AN: Full chap.

---xXxXxXx--- means transition or scene change

Denial

by priscel

Thirteen - forked brow snoop

It was still early. Early enough for the head of the household to be ensconced in confines of his room and late enough for Stuart to be outside cleaning the car in front of their one level estate. She slipped on her navy DI jacket, shouldering her school bag as she pressed her ear to the hard wood door of her bedroom. Like many of the doors in the estate it was made from genuine red oak that had survived the tests of time due to the care of their family through the years. She smirked at the ingrained history lesson that was supposed to teach her to respect her inheritance and school her on the importance of their family line.

‘Doors,’ she thought bitterly, ‘There’s more to my family than kindle for the hearth.’ She let her fingers trail absently over the deep grooves and cuts she had carved into it over the years. She sat back, commending the refurbishers on their work. Though she wouldn’t admit the strange welling of contentment she felt because the evidence of her destructive behavior was still present even though it couldn’t be seen. She smiled to herself, her ‘mark’ could be found on many of these priceless heirlooms as well as the ones she had coaxed from Zechs and her cousin, Trieze. She put her ear back to the door and listened as feet shuffled quietly down the hall and purposely down the stairs to the laundry then up to the kitchen. She smiled knowing that the only other person up at this hour was Rosabella who didn’t like being disturbed when she was preparing breakfast.

Dorothy was often curious about the things her Grandfather didn’t include her in and would profess that she wouldn’t be going to such an extent to find out her Grandfather’s secrets if Stuart, an ancient man that had been at her Grandfather’s side as far back as she could remember, would have just told her what she wanted to know. Unfortunately for her, his years of servitude not only reflected his devotion to her Grandfather but a tight lip loyalty that she chalked up to his stubbornness in concealing any information concerning her Grandfather’s private business matters. So here she was, the gorgeous spy wannabe with her heart thumping excitedly in her ears. ‘What’s the worst that can happen?’ Her Grandfather had always had a soft spot for her and if she could pull this off, ‘what he didn’t know won’t hurt him.’

She smirked mischievously, slipping out of her room with her shoes in one hand and stopping to pull her pants legs up so they didn’t drag beneath her feet as she went in the opposite direction of the kitchen, tiptoed passed her Grandfather’s bedroom door and to his private study. His room was two doors down from the study and her own on the opposite side. She turned the antique, brass doorknob and pushed the rich oak door open. She glanced about, nervously when it creaked and hurried into the sunlit room, leaving the door open enough that she could see any movement in the hall.

She paused, as she always did and had seen many others do when they entered her Grandfather’s study. The obtuse room was larger than her bedroom and had beautifully crafted oak, bay windows on both sides of the mostly glass patio door. She gazed at the classical wrought iron patio furniture on the deck and at the similarly styled railing that ended where the two short staircases curled at two meandering stone paths. Her eyes gave the path a cursory glance, her light blue eyes settling on what lay at the end of those paths - a small grove of trees, nestled at the back of the half acre estate. It was wild, overgrown and extended in a moderately expanding triangle over half the property.

She remembered exploring that place when her parents died. She remembered spending a lot of time around a moss and lichen covered water fountain that lay hidden in the center. She turned away from the balcony and to her Grandfather’s desk, scrubbing at her eyes furiously as she scanned the papers on his desk and rummaged through its drawers. She didn’t have time to reminisce. She always wondered why her Grandfather never had the gardener fix it up.

She closed one drawer with more force than she’d intended but it suitably expressed her frustrated state. None of the drawers contained anything really juicy and on top of that none of them were locked. That in itself made her suspicious enough to discount the thought that he had nothing to hide from her. She wouldn’t believe that, not after that supposed dream she had a few months after her parents’ deaths.

She started at the loud thud in the hall, reflexively ducking down under the desk to avoid being discovered. When the door to the study remained how she left it, she crept over and looked out into the hall. There was a huddled figure on the floor near her Grandfather’s door. She watched the person shakily shift in place as a braid slithered across his back and to the floor.

‘Duo?’ it couldn’t be anyone else. No one else wore their hair in an absurdly long braid. It didn’t make sense to her as to why her classmate would be in her home. The more she thought about, she didn’t like what his current state implied about her Grandfather either. She looked on curiously as his shaking hands worked to straighten his clothes and at the sound of his zipper, she strode out into the hall. Dorothy's stride became less confident and her annoyance waning/deteriorating at the pained groan that flitted to her ears.

“Duo!” Dorothy whispered tersely, the boy jerked at the name. ‘I don’t have time for this.’ She thought considering how much of a practical joker Duo was and forgetting that Duo had never been over to her home before. She ignored the twinge of concern on the edges of her conscious when her classmate’s shoulders shook with more force.

“Duo?” She drew closer, her hands resting on broad shoulders that shook beneath her fingers, shoulders too broad to be skinny Duo’s. She stiffly withdrew her hands as the shoulders shook again and laughter wafted up to her ears. Her surprise was quickly replaced by her frown when bemused, hazel eyes blinked up at her.

“Is it really that unusual?” The man’s voice, even though strained, was soft and mellow sounding. She stepped back as calmly as she could while tripping over her hastily discarded shoes. The light from the study filled the hall as she moved, her shadow shifting over the man resting by her Grandfather’s door. In the light, she could see the differences now. This man’s red braid stopped just past his shoulder blades, about a foot long. And the obvious difference that this man was not Duo Maxwell.

Dorothy watched curiously as he stood with his back to her and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. She missed his smile when he saw her move to the side, trying to see what it was he had.

She cleared her throat when he continued to just stand there and fidget with the paper in his hands. It was annoying and distracting, especially how he shifted awkwardly in his dark grey jeans and ruffled sleeveless hoodie. It told her that despite the fact that her Grandfather had tossed him out of his rooms like yesterday’s trash and left a red mark- nothing like any hicky she’d seen- was currently hidden beneath his braid and hoodie, he hadn’t seem hurt by it.

‘He’s too old to have a young lover.’ She scrutinized him and shivered at the thought of being with a shriveled old person. ‘He’s probably just in it for the money.’ She wasn’t going to accept it though; she didn’t think Sanc had Host clubs. She ignored his question, “Why are you here?”

“Because I was called, must we do this?” He asked with a bored sigh, glancing at the door.

“Keep your voice down if you’re so concerned about him hearing. Why were you called? It’s too early in the morning for anyone to be pestering my Grandfather about anything work related.” Dorothy glared crossing her arms over her stomach, a relaxed and familiar poise that never failed in helping her regain her composer, “unless you are a courier? Grandfather has requested them to come by for hand delivered messages before... Would that be one of them?” She gestured indifferently toward the waded paper in his hand. “If that is the case, he’ll have your job for ruining the letter. If you’d just follow me, I can rewrite it-”

The man turned to face her fully, a quirk of a smile on his ashen face as he stared at her with his eyes half mast. “If only it had been you.”

The deep sensual purr caught her off guard and she blushed despite the stern expression on her face as he ran his hand throw her blond hair. His predatory smile only heightened the sexual pretext he hinted at.

“Do you really believe that dribble you just spouted?” He pressed, his hazel eyes following the movement of her hand as she unconsciously flipped her hair back over her shoulders. His hand shot out without him having to think it and caught the stray lock that came back to rest on her shoulder before she could brush it back again.

Dorothy’s brows furrowed at the possessive way he held her hair and scowled at him when he moved so that they were standing toe to toe. He was taller, but she kept her eyes leveled at his neck, she wouldn’t look up to him if she didn’t have to.

“I think you know why I’m here. I’m sure you don’t want Granddaddy to know you were in his study.” She stood still, her fingernails digging through the sleeves of her jacket as he took the lock he held and ran the tip of it over her periwinkle lips, leaning down close to her ear. “Why don’t we go there?”

She arched a brow as he pointed his chin towards the study.

“I-”

“Please don’t say something else idiotic.” She cut him off annoyed at her own reaction even if he couldn’t see it on her face. She hated men who seemed so cocksure of themselves. She caught the brief look of surprise that flitted over his face, “Not everyone will fall at your feet with a few suggestive words and threats. If you think that’ll work every time, then you might as well dress up in a caveman costume, say ‘Ugh ugh’ and put on a show for me.”

She commended herself for not flinching when he pulled on her hair and prepared for the scalp tearing pain that would follow once he used it against her, but that never came. Her hair was released and he laughed at her. She punched him in his side and he winced, leaning over where she had hit him and trying to hide that the pain was from more than her hit. She told herself she didn’t regret that she’d done it and that he was a masochist so it was okay.

Quin’s snickers trailed off into a smile, an easy going one that goaded her into relaxing. Her eyes tracked the movement of his tongue as its tip winked out between his rouge lips to touch his bottom lip then roll to touch the top. He licked his lips again, an unconscious movement she noted and he glanced at the door when they both heard movement. They stood still, waiting and her brows furrowed at the shuffle of her Grandfather's usually light tread on his carpeted floor and Quin's half smirk.

She gave Quin a sidelong glance, somehow this man knew more than her and it hurt that her Grandfather couldn’t trust her with it. Her eyes flitted to his lips once more as that pink muscle made an appearance again. It was a distracting thing he did and she wondered if he was thirsty or if giving him some of her lip balm would make him stop. She glared at the devilish pink tongue as it peeked out at her and wondered if he was nervous.

“Hey Chick,” Dorothy saw his lips form the words and heard the half laugh in his whisper when she realized she’d been caught ogling his mouth.

“It’s not what you think.” She defended against his smug look. ‘I’m not blushing’ she denied, refusing to acknowledge the telltale sensation of blood rushing to her face.

Quin smirked at her contemplative scowl even as her nose tilted upward. “Listen,” his tongue peeked out again as he straighten, his arm dropping from its protect curl about his stomach.

“Stop doing that.” She whispered brusquely.

He smiled; his smiles were becoming more compelling as she felt her own lips twitching in halted response. “If you want to know what Granddaddy hides away in his rooms,” he glanced at her Grandfather’s door, steadily backing her across the hall. “Then go there,” he tore the paper he had clutched in his hand and shoved it in hers.

“Wha-” Her eyes grew large when he kissed her and her limbs flailed for purchase in the sudden open space of her room. “Shit.” She sat up from her bedroom’s uncarpeted, hardwood floor and wished she had accepted her Grandfather’s offer of having it carpeted. She started at her shoes abrupt appearance in front of her face, her breath escaping when Quin dropped them on her stomach and hurried out her door. She glared at the smiling red head that reappeared in the crack of her door seconds later, staring at her as she remained in an undignified heap on her floor.

“Not bad for our first kiss, see you in ten minutes.”

“You're not lucky enough for a second!” Her door closed as her shoe hit it instead of her intended target. She sat up, rubbing her abused elbows before her eyes landed on the crumpled piece of paper he had given her.

He’s one.
head PEC.

She threw the paper away and hopped on one foot as she put on her other shoe. She couldn’t figure out who the note was talking about but it was going to go down at her school. She ran out into to the hall, the study was closed and her Grandfather sat in a large fuzzy robe talking with Rosabella when she entered the kitchen. He looked so smushy and humble with his slightly rosy cheeks that she doubted what she had seen, who she had met outside his door earlier.

“Dorothy.” He smiled, aged light blue eyes looking into the reflection of his youth as he scratched his scruffy white beard. Dorothy smiled back, kissing his cheek before scooping up some of the eggs from his plate and swallowing them, chugging down half his juice and grabbing a piece of toast from the plate on the table.

“Miss Dorothy!” Rosabella gaped and Duke chuckled as his Granddaughter darted away. “Sir, I’ll prepare you another plate. Miss Dorothy! Where are your manners? Come sit-”

“Morning, I have to go in early today!” She cut in, waving away Rosabella’s concern, there was no point in giving them reason to worry by not acting like her normal self. Besides she didn’t know if he was telling the truth. She didn’t even know his name, not that she was interested.

“It’s alright, Rosabella.” Duke said laughingly, taking the plate away from the thirty something cook who did more for the house then her title suggested. “Tell Stuart, I won’t be going out today.” He called out as Dorothy rounded the corner.

“I’m taking my bike!” She slammed the door before she could hear his protest. The school had been on her case about her driving her motorcycle to school. She shrugged her shoulders, her Grandfather would just have to deal with a little harassment from them.

With a yawn that threatened to capsize his face, Quatre emerged from the back door, closing it slowly because the door slammed whenever you let go of it and he didn’t want to startle anyone out of their sleep. Fear. He glanced up at a squirrel as it peered down at him with huge eyes. He gave it a sleepy smirk and chatised himself, he may have been out of it but he couldn’t go walking around leaving himself open. As quick as he lowered one pale lash, he was alone with his own emotions. It was iffy whether that was a good thing or not. He ascended the stairs as the squirrel scampered up a nearby tree and to relative safety.

‘I wonder if he’s up?’ He stretched, looking down at the partially open second window from the door he’d just exited. He sighed, he didn’t have time, he had to go to work. The thought thrilled him, he had a job! He smiled, elated as he checked his tote bag one more time to be certain he had everything he needed. His friends had offered their support, he smiled as he remembered the two grunts, a nod, a pat on the shoulder, a kiss (though not from who he secretly wanted it from) and two exuberant hugs that the news had incited from them.

Quatre lost himself for a moment as he passed the backs of the other dorms, walked beneath the large trees and passed the peaceful suburban neighborhood that was on the other side of the street. He liked walking out on the sidewalk better because on the Foyer it seemed like you were in another world and disconnected from the reality of life outside of school. He studied the worn and leaf stained sidewalk beneath his black shoed feet, deciding he’d let his friends' support carry him through the three hours he had to work as monitor in the PEC and shut out the hurtful words from his father when he found out. His smile became tremulous, why was it that he was able to put his own pains aside when he was alone in his room while he couldn’t push them aside he walked alone?

‘You’re doing what? You gave up your position as vice president, for what? You can’t put that on a resume! I’m not paying them to pay you to do something as menial as cleaning up after your underclassmen’s recreational activities or to sit and watch them. They have other people who are trained to take care of that sort of thing. If you want to give up your position you need to do better than that. That’s why you’re there, I don’t want to hear about it anymore and my answer is final.’

He squeezed his eyes against the prickling feeling that always happened before the tears fell. ‘Did he even hear my reasons? I don’t want to be babied all my life.’ He blinked furiously at the moisture welling against his lashes. He thought that any parent would be happy that their child was trying to work for himself, and the job wasn’t menial, it was something he wanted to do and the only thing he could get on such short notice with Zechs’ help. Even Zechs had said it was odd that it was so hard for him to find any work on campus. It wasn’t though, not if his father had been involved. Well if Zechs couldn’t withstand his father’s will then he’d be going to the dinning hall next. He rubbed at his eyes, ‘I’m such a cry-’

Quatre gasped and groaned, suddenly upside down and inside the brush that suddenly appeared in his path. Quatre sat up wincing as the branches scrapped across his bare arms. Pouting, he began removing the leaves and thorny shoots from his hair and clothes as he glared at the bushes. He knew he was being a bit impractical and that the bushes had been in the same spot they had always been since he started attending Darlian. He found his tote bag at the bottom of the bushes prickly depths and struggled to free it from its branchy captor.

“There you go.” The laughing voice surprised him but before he could figure out what he’d meant, his tote bag was flying over his head and taking him along with it. He realized then that the person had moved the branch that had been holding his tote bag as he staggered awkwardly backwards from the force of his pull toward the street where traffic still sluggishly rolled by. He gasped, trying to somehow swing himself in the opposite direction but knew it was much too late when he heard the blaring horns and screech of tires as one of the drivers, who had taken advantage of the somewhat open street and sped up, tried to avoid hitting him.

Then there was nothing. He could hear his own breaths and then his heart. No it was someone else’s heart, beating frantically. Aquamarine eyes blinked open as he sat up and met laughing hazel eyes.

“You ok short stuff? Don’t go into to shock over something so small.” The man in the hoodie ruffled his hair and offered him a kind smile even though his hand lingered against the side of his face.

The touch tingled oddly against his skin and in a span of three heart beats, Quatre looked away, and scrambled back off his rescuer. “S-sorry for disturbing your jog,” Quatre said quickly, standing and extending his hand to the man still sitting on the ground.

Quin glanced over his jeans and hoodie, smiling that he lucked out in his lack of choice in clothes yesturday. “Nothing doing,” he took the offered hand and stood, not letting go and offering a smile of his own that paled in comparison to Quatre’s.

Quatre started when the man before him moved closer to him and swiped at the other side of his face. ‘I could have died.’ He didn’t move away from the touch, too stunned by his own realization to notice the man’s hand was lingering there. He flushed glancing to his left and thus leaning away from the hand on the side of his face to see the PEC. 'Two minutes away,' he just wanted to forget what had almost happen. He considered thanking the man and ditching him before he embarrassed himself further. Quatre flinched when the hand gripped his chin and turned his face back to the man standing in front of him.

“Hey, you ok?” Quatre heard the breathy words as the man’s breath hitched when he looked into his eyes again. Why couldn’t he move? Those friendly hazel eyes that had smiled at him moments ago were a myriad of emotion that grabbed at him and made Quatre’s mouth fall open.

sadness/pain/pain/sadness/pain/curiousity/hurt/joy/pain/s adness

Quin remembered, a boy from years back whose eyes would have been just as expressive as the ones before him if not for his addiction. He forgot what he had come to do as a warm stream of tears ran over his fingers from the boy’s wide eyes. ‘The same color... teal?” He drew Quatre's face closer to his, ‘no darker.’ He remembered how that boy had died, how the frantic beating of his heart sounded. Could he do this? This boy wasn’t just anyone he was someone important to his... to Duo and Solo, but if he didn’t...

“Quatre!”

Quin canted his head to the side when Quatre was suddenly yanked away from him and watched as the small blonde stumbled backwards into Dorothy’s side, holding the side of his head. Quin caught a nasty glare from the girl when he smiled at her in welcome. Dorothy ignored him in favor of her classmate.

Quin shook his head, noticing the wet tracks on the sides of the boy’s face, ‘He cried for me?’ He shook his head, 'That couldn't be it.' He smiled to himself, figuring that the boy must've realized just how close he had come to being roadkill.

“Thank you for helping him, he’s hopelessly clumsy when he’s not thinking about where he’s going.” She said tightly to the red head in front of them, catching how pale Quatre looked and snatched his bag away from Quin when he attempted to touch him. She gave him another tight smile, she had seen Quatre almost get hit by a car and how the man had saved him though she didn’t think she could say thank you again but she’d get Quatre later. What she really wanted was for Quin to leave. She wasn’t the least bit interested in involving the petite blond in whatever game the man was playing at.

“Oh, nothing doing. Quatre, if you ever need help with anything, and you happen to see me, don’t hesitate to ask. I jog through here often around this time of morning.”

“Right. I’m sure he won’t.” She smiled too big for her to even think she looked sincere. She kept a hand on Quatre’s shoulder, though not easily baited into arguments with her he surely would have responded to the insult she made about his intelligence.

Quin grabbed Quatre’s hand and the still stunned blond shivered, shaking his hand with a small smile. “Sure,” he aptly agreed, his smile growing on his cherubic face. Quin felt at a loss as to how to deal with this type of person. It was unsettling how someone who didn’t know him could so openly comfort him... accept him.

“Maybe I can run with you sometime.” Quatre offered, his color coming back as he released his hand.

Quin was relieved, the boy did look like he was going through some sort of shock and those bright eyes pulled at him... making him want to see that spark die like he had seen in so many others. He could feel his hands begin to shake, ‘how long had it been?’ His hands searched the cottony depths of his hoodie pockets as he kept an amicable smile on his face. His tongue peeked out at the corner of his mouth and then ran over his teeth where he bit it when his hand found the glass vial meant for Quatre in his pocket. “Yea, let’s hope it’ll be much later.”

Quatre started to ask him why, stepping toward him when he stopped. He glanced back at Dorothy who had a firm grip on his shoulder.

Quin nodded to Dorothy as Quatre winced. ‘Curiosity, the kid killer,’ he wanted to laugh but it would have sounded psychotic. ‘Might as well play the part,’ he started up a jog, it would cover the trembling in his arms. He caught his hands when they started to dig at his arms and passed it off as an easy shrug and then a shuck of his shoulders as if he were working the kinks out of his shoulders. He could see the petite blonde’s apology on his face before he uttered the words.

“I’m sorry it’s my fault for any-”

“No no, it was my good deed for the day.” Dorothy glared and Quin just smiled. “Good luck with school. Later Chick, take care of your boyfriend.” He almost laughed at Quatre’s confused puppy look and Dorothy’s blush. He gripped the vial as he left the two teens; he was surprised that he actually meant it.

‘His girlfriend?’ She huffed and her hand twitched against Quatre’s shoulder. ‘Whatever. That jerk, what could Quatre possibly have to do with Grandfather? Chick... I hate that name.’ Dorothy grumbled mentally, glaring at the hooded red head’s retreating back.

Quatre waved and cautiously put his hand over Dorothy’s, in an attempt to ease her grip on him. It felt like she was going to rip his shoulder off. “Dorothy?”

“Hm?”

“My shoulder.”

With a harrumph she left go, pushing at him until he started walking. “You’re naive and too innocent for your own good. Maybe I can get Trowa to try bondage...”

Quatre stumbled, still rubbing his abused shoulder, to turn wide aquamarine eyes to his classmate, “What?”

“Nothing,” she said with a fleeting smile at his pouty expression, he always stopped what he was doing no matter what it was when Trowa’s name was brought up. She wondered if he’d be this naive if she had been his sister.

Quatre shook his head, glancing back at the strange man. He was confused by what had happen and Dorothy's odd behavior. He blinked at the irate blonde walking beside him, wondering when Dorothy had come into all this. He studied her face. There was nothing hinting at any ulterior motives. She was dressed as she always dressed, standard issue school uniform pants and shirt that spoke little of her feminine curves. Though she made it one of her pass times to bully him, he had always felt comfortable around her. He shrugged as she walked beside him all the way to the PEC, he guessed this was just one of those times she could be nice. He was glad for the company; he really didn’t want to think about his father or what had almost happened.

Dorothy reached over and ruffled Quatre’s hair before pushing down on his head and nearly making him trip. “Don’t think so hard or you’ll end up walking into a wall.” She shouted as she ducked into the safety of the women’s locker room.

“Uh, ow.” Quatre rubbed his head, pouting alone in the empty hallway. He turned away from the women’s locker room door and blinked owlishly at the column in front of him as he readjusted his tote bag on his shoulder before taking the stairs to meet with Zechs to find out his post.

tbc...