Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Eyes Cold As Stone ❯ Chapter Two ( Chapter 2 )

Eyes Cold As Stone

Chapter 2

"What the fuck?" Duo practically was screaming his head off. "I thought there wouldn't be any more wars. Hence us." Duo wildly swung his arm around, encompassing the whole room of Preventer's. "Shouldn't we have seen this coming, or is our Intelligence taking a nap?"

"Duo! That's enough." Lady Une snapped. "It doesn't matter what happened, now. What matters is that we diffuse this as quickly as possible."

"You're wrong, Lady Une. It does matter how we missed this. If we missed something as vital as a large army massing, what else are we going to miss?" Quatre pointed out quietly. Duo nodded enthusiastically.

"He's right, you know."

"Duo!" Une barked.

"What? It's true."

"Duo." Heero's icy voice warned. Duo just glared at Heero.

"Lady Une, if we miss information this big, it's more than likely, if fact, probably guaranteed, that we will miss other information." Quatre continued, ignoring Heero's and Duo's glaring contest. "If we don't have all the information, any mission we go on is already compromised." Heero returned his eyes to Quatre at the mention of a mission.

"I won't fail."

"That's not the point, Heero. If we can't figure out why we haven't been getting all of the information we need, you won't have a chance to fail." Quatre's eyes turned unnaturally hard. "Something or someone is preventing our flow of information."

"We need to gather firsthand information, and we need to get it now." Lady Une's voice turned cold. "If we don't, we cannot win this war."

"Maybe it's not our war to win." Wufei sat with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes closed. "Justice will determines who wins or looses."

"Wufei, there's no winners and losers in war." Trowa softly reminded.

"Why are we forced into going to war? What makes war immanent?" Sally asked.

"We only have our Preventer patrols, which maybe, maybe number twenty suits. We've estimated the enemy at approximately 900 suits." Lady Une sighed, closing her eyes.

"What about peacetalks, or even a treaty?" Noin's question hung in the air.

"Will they even talk?" Zechs asked quietly. Lady Une resignedly shook her head.

"If they so choose to speak to us, their words are merely threats, promises and descriptions of our destruction. This group wants it all. They want the destruction of the Earth's Sphere." A long pause blanketed the room as each pilot absorbed the news, then, as if there had never been a silence; angry voices broke out, battling each other for supremacy.

"How is it we never knew?"

"There has to be a way."

"Blast them all to hell."

"We can't go to war."

"We have to protect what we've already fought for."

"Why can't someone else?"

Quatre stood up, slamming his hands down on the polished wood of the conference table. "For fuck's sake! Listen to yourselves! This has gone on long enough! Shut the fuck up!" Quatre yelled, effectively causing the battling voices to quiet. Everyone looked at Quatre with varying degrees of surprise.

"Hell, yeah, Quat!" Duo's cry of encouragement filled the silence.

"ENOUGH!" Quatre's face was flushed as he bellowed. It was obvious the usually meek and peaceful Quatre Winner had had enough. Taking a deep breath, he began speaking normally. "Lady Une, you still have not answered our original question. I believe that it is a very crucial question. The rest of you…shut the hell up or I'll personally escort you out of here…with my foot." Quatre's cold eyes didn't miss a soul as he unmistakably proved that he would make use of his threat. Satisfied that his point had been absorbed by even Duo, Quatre turned his glare back to Lady Une. Une swallowed, noticing the Quatre was still standing and was currently gripping the edge of the table in a white-knuckled deathgrip.

"Intelligence believes that this organization assembled themselves somewhere beyond the Earth's Sphere."

"Where? Venus? Mars?"

"Between Earth and Mars."

"So, in other words, in an area that we cannot monitor." Heero interjected.

"Exactly." Lady Une's eyes were glued to Quatre. His eyes are as cold as stone. I've never seen them like this. It's frightening.

"I talked to Abdul, as per your request. He says that we can probably have all five Gundams ready in about one month if we work around the clock." Quatre's voice echoed his eyes. "I haven't given him the okay yet. I don't want to start production until we are positive that we must have them." Quatre's eyes narrowed, a dangerous gleam beginning to sparkle. "It is of my opinion that we avoid an all out war. The Gundams can always be used against us."

"I understand." God, I think that Quatre is even scarier than Heero right now. Shit, is that even possible? Lady Une looked between Heero and Quatre. Yeah, it is. She raised her fingers to the bridge of her nose, absently noticing the other pilots' fear of Quatre. Why would the other pilots be afraid of Quatre, little, sweet Quatre? Oh. The description of his eyes that she had used a few moments ago came crashing back to her, along with a memory two years old.

"Quatre! What are you doing?" Trowa's voice sounded tiny over the radioed distance. Lady Une leaned forward to listen more intently to the pirated broadcast as a well-targeted blast echoed over the comm line.

"Trowa? Don't come any closer! I don't want to hurt you." Une supposed that that had been the pilot 04-Quatre.

"Quatre? What has happened to you? Your eyes…they're cold as stone." Trowa's whisper had probably gone unnoticed by the other two Gundam pilots, but Une's ears picked up the strangled whimper.

Eyes cold as stone. Eyes cold as stone. Cold as stone. As stone. As stone. Stone. The phrase echoed through her stressed mind. She looked pleadingly at Quatre.

"I don't want to go to war." At her words, Quatre's expression softened.

"I know. But we do what we have to." Une nodded her agreement and sat down to let civilized conversation begin.

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Trowa watched Quatre with growing concern. Was he having a Zero System flashback? No, that couldn't be it, unless he was reigning it in with more than superhuman strength, which was entirely possible, when it concerned Heero, not Quatre. Well, Quatre is the one who was always sacrificing himself for others; maybe he does have that much strength. As Lady Une took a seat, Trowa reached out and covered one of Quatre's white knuckled hands with his own slender one. He could feel Quatre flinch at the touch, but he quickly relaxed and regained his seat. Trowa kept his hold on Quatre's hand through the rest of the meeting. He didn't want to let go, and he wasn't about to let Quatre think that he wasn't there for him. Trowa had to admit that he didn't remember much about the meeting, save for the fact that he would be piloting Heavyarms in about a month. Trowa shuddered, a sudden chill racing down his spine. He could feel Quatre's now warm eyes resting on him. He turned to meet his gaze, screaming silently that he was fine. Quatre seemed to understand, if he didn't believe, and he reluctantly returned his gaze to Lady Une. Trowa wasn't okay. He knew that Quatre could tell, but he was thankful that Quatre was letting him off the hook-at least until the meeting was over. Fuck. War. After all that he and his fellow Gundam pilots have done for the world, and it turns back into war. Trowa shuddered again, as the verdict was to go to war.

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Quatre flung himself on his bed, utterly exhausted, in body and mind. Tears threatened to flood his eyes, but he held them back. This wasn't the time. Tears could come after this fucked up war was over and done with. The song he had heard earlier ran through his head. It's a fucked up world and a fucked up place; everybody's judged by their fucked up face. Fucked up dream and a fucked up life, a fucked up kid with a fucked up knife… Quatre let loose a hysterical giggle as a brisk knocking interrupted his thoughts. Bleary eyed, he pushed himself off of his bed and answered the door to his apartment. Opening the door, he plastered a fake smile on his face to dissuade anyone form looking too closely to his disheveled state. Trowa didn't fall for that, though, and as soon as the door had been opened, flew in to Quatre, engulfing him in a tight embrace. The closeness of Trowa made the tears fall, and Quatre sobbed into Trowa's shoulder. Barely registering the closing of his door, or the careful maneuvering to his couch, Quatre continued to cry.

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Trowa cradled Quatre on Quatre's couch, wishing there was something more that he could do. Trowa's eyes threatened tears as he listened to his love's sobs.

"Shh, it's gonna be okay, shh." Trowa comforted. Trowa's breath caught as Quatre looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes.

"I am so afraid."

"I know, it's okay."

"I'm a Gundam pilot, Trowa. I'm not supposed to be afraid." Quatre buried his head against Trowa's shoulder, sobs beginning to rack the small frame.

"Quatre, listen to me." Trowa cupped his hand under Quatre's chin, and raised Quatre's face so Quatre was forced to look at him. "Quatre, it's okay to be afraid. I'm scared shitless."

"You are?" Tentative words slipped from Quatre's trembling lips. Trowa took in all that was Quatre with his eyes, memorizing what he already remembered.

"Yes. I don't want to go to war. I don't want to die. I don't want my friends to die, and I sure as hell don't want you to die." The tears that had been gathering in his eyes finally fell, slowly rolling down his cheek to splash silently on Quatre's cheek. Quatre's hand raised to his cheek. Trowa began wishing that Quatre would pull him down for a kiss. Please, tell me you love me. Please let me know somehow, so this ache in my heart will go away. Trowa closed his eyes, hoping beyond hope that Quatre would whisper words of want, need and love in his ear. He felt Quatre's warm hand, callused by the years in a mobile suit, brush a tear away. Trowa opened his eyes as Quatre sighed and rubbed the tear between his fingers. He pulled Quatre closer to him, relishing in the feeling of the closeness. Quatre rested his head against Trowa's shoulder; eyes falling closed in exhaustion.

"It's okay to cry, Trowa. If it's okay to be afraid, it's okay to cry." Quatre's sleepy mumbles almost went unheard by Trowa. Almost. Trowa smiled sadly, holding his angel in his arm as Quatre finally fell asleep.

"I love you, Little One." Trowa whispered to his slumbering love. "I love you." He uncurled his legs from the couch and shifted Quatre onto his lap. Slipping his arm under Quatre's legs, Trowa gently rose from the couch and carried Quatre to the bedroom. He relished the feeling of putting Quatre to bed, wishing he could do it every night. More tears began to fall down his face at his cowardice. Why can't I just tell him? He's always so comfortable in my presence, how do I know that he doesn't return my feelings? He could love me just as much as I love him. Why am I making this so hard? Reaching the bed, Trowa gently placed Quatre among the soft pillows and down comforters. He pulled the covers over Quatre's shoulders before bending over to kiss his cheek. Quatre stirred in his sleep, murmuring Trowa's name. Trowa's eyes widened, and he grew more daring. Brushing a lock of pale hair out of Quatre's face, he placed a soft kiss on Quatre's lips. Without pulling back, Trowa again whispered the words; "I love you." Standing up, Trowa fled from the room. He stopped in the living room, breathing hard. God help me. I love him so much. He fell to his knees burying his face in his hands. I don't deserve him. I'm too dirty, too used. I can't be what he needs. He's pure; I'm a shell. He loves life; I only love him. Why did I have to fall in love with him? He deserves better than me. Trowa slowly regained his feet, and dejectedly trudged to Quatre's front door. Looking over his shoulder toward Quatre's bedroom, Trowa stepped over the threshold. I love you, my angel. Sleep well, my love. Sleep well.

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"Alright, people. We've got our work cut out for us this month. You'll all be getting double pay for your efforts-a small thank you from Master Quatre." Abdul adjusted his sunglasses. I don't care if I am inside. I like them. "We've got one month to build five Gundams. The process will be faster and more efficient if we spilt into five work groups, one group for each Gundam. Sandrock will be built in Hanger One, Heavyarms in Hanger Two, Deathscythe in Hanger Three, Wing Zero in Hanger Four, and Altron in Hanger Five. We already have a large amount of Gundanium from our last shipment from space, and we've upped production, so we should be receiving more shortly. We ought to be able to make good time on production. There will be three shifts so there will always be a crew working on the Gundams. With this system, we can also maintain normal work hours…"

Abdul continued to give information on the production of the Gundams. Rashid watched calmly from the sidelines. He couldn't help thinking that this was a stupid move. What could possibly lead the world to war, again? No one in their right minds would start another war. And for that matter, why were the Gundams needed? What threat was currently bearing down on Earth and her Colonies? Allah, help us all.

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"The first wave has cleared our facilities, sir."

"Good. Prepare for launch of second wave."

"Yes, sir."

"The second wave will launch in a little over forty hours. Victory is just that much closer."

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Duo bounced down the hall toward Quatre's apartment. The blonde pilot hadn't come into work today, so he'd come to make sure he was okay. Duo beamed at the wall in remembrance of Quatre's display of nicely selected swear words, all of which Duo had reinforced into Quatre's head over beer, wine, Sex on the Beaches, and God knows what else. Duo briefly thought of yesterday's meeting. Shit. War was never good under the best of circumstances, and this was rapidly becoming the worst of circumstances. After all, Une had said that they were currently in the dark. She said that the only reason we knew anything at all was because the Preventers dismantled the remains of Space Barge, which had been in use by this new organization. And organized they were. They had everything planned out, and apparently the attack was coming from Mars. Duo sighed as he reached Quatre's door. And worst of all, was the fact that these terrorists had bases all over Earth. And no one from the Preventers knew where. Duo plastered his happy-go-lucky smile on his face and knocked on Quatre's door.

"Stop grinning like a madman. You know I can read you like a book."

"Nice to see you, too." Duo let his mask fall.

"Why are you here, Duo?" Quatre looked like hell warmed over. Duo studied his best friend critically.

"When you didn't show up for work, I got worried." Duo plopped down on the sofa. "Didn't you sleep last night?"

"Actually, I did." At Duo's raised eyebrow, Quatre continued. "Trowa came over, and we talked…well he talked, I cried."

"Trowa, huh?" Duo winked at Quatre for emphasis.

"Duo! Nothing happened…at least I think nothing happened." Duo smiled at Quatre's furious blush.

"Talk about reading me like a book-you're transparent." Quatre sank to the couch beside Duo.

"I fell asleep on the couch, and I woke up in my bed." Duo raised his eyebrow again. "Alone." Duo's face fell. Why can't they just tell each other how they feel?

"What did you talk about?" Duo allowed a shimmer of hope to shine through his words.

"The war, being afraid of dying. No, Duo, I did not tell him that I love him."

"You know, Quatre, if you don't tell Trowa soon, I'm going to do it for you."

"You wouldn't."

"I would."

"Duo…"

"He's got to know somehow, whether from you or from me. Quatre, this is eating you alive." Duo put his arm around Quatre's shoulders. "Look, man. I can see it, Heero can see it, even Wufei can see it. Trowa's blinded by his own feelings, and you're too chicken to make the first move."

"But what if he hates me?"

"That's not gonna happen. The two of you are inseparable. No matter what happens, you will always be, at least friends."

"I'll try."

"No. You'll do." Quatre gave Duo a long-suffering look before nodding. Sheesh, it's about fucking time. "Look, Quat. What happened yesterday?"

"What do you mean?"

"At the meeting. I know the two of us cuss each other out over drinks, hell, it's our drinking game! But what caused you to go buggo?"

"War is hard on people, Duo. Look at what happened to the five of us. Trowa refuses to let emotions show, Heero can hardly be considered human, Wufei lost his home, you lost everyone you ever cared for, and I lost my family, and promptly went insane."

"Quat-"

"I'm afraid of what will happen to us if we enter another war. What will we be like? Will we even live? War fucks with people's heads, and there's nothing we can do about it." Duo pulled Quatre into an embrace.

"There's no escape from war for people like us. God knows I feel the same as you. But if loosing ourselves so everyone else can live in peace, I gladly will lose myself. Now, as for you? Quat, you're my best friend. I can tell you anything. Hell, I can even get you to swear. But I won't ever lose you. You taught me that. I never lost Solo, or Father Maxwell, or even Sister Helen. I never lost them, because they are in my heart."

"Hardly any comfort, is it?"

"Don't give up on yourself, Quat. If you give up on yourself, how do you think the rest of us are gonna fare? You are the glue that not only keeps the five of us together, but you're the glue that holds each one of us together. If it weren't for you, Quat, Trowa wouldn't smile, Heero wouldn't laugh, Wufei wouldn't be falling in love with Sally, and I wouldn't have a best friend."

"You're right. I'm being foolish."

"No, Quatre. You're being human." Duo pulled Quatre away, so he could look him in the eye. "Quat, I love you, and nothing can take that away. Got it?" Quatre nodded, smiling. "Good. Let's go get something to eat. I'm fuckin' starving!" Duo felt relieved when he heard Quatre's laugh.

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Trowa blinked groggily, head still spinning from his long pause at the local bar. Whatever possessed him to visit the bar in the first place? Oh. Oh yeah. After trashing himself at Quatre's, he'd stumbled into the bar to get trashed. Trowa sighed, shifting uncomfortably on the hard floor of his bathroom. Obviously he'd been too damn drunk to make it to the bedroom. Trowa struggled to his feet, wobbling precariously before he could grasp the edge of the counter in a death grip. He blindly reached for the medicine cabinet, wincing at the sight of himself in the mirror. Blurry eyed, he stumbled through the different bottles until he came to the Advil for Migraine bottle. Giving a short, soft, cheer of triumph, Trowa swallowed three of the blessed pills. God-he was never drinking again. Shit. Leaning against the doorframe, he surveyed his apartment, for no particular reason at all. What would it be like to wake up with Quatre sleeping by my side? He practically purred at the thought. He glanced at his neglected bed, imagining that there was a sleeping bundle hiding under the blankets, a little bit of golden hair fanning across the pillow. Trowa moved uncertainly into the kitchen and brewed a cup of coffee, trying to be quiet so as not to wake his peacefully slumbering love. He brewed the coffee extra strong for himself, and pulled down his supply of black tea for Quatre. Inhaling the exotic blend of tealeaves, Trowa wished, with all of his heart, body, and mind-hell, throw spirit in there for good measure-that Quatre truly was resting soundly in his bed. Forgetting the coffee, he shuffled over to his bed, reaching out to the vision that was Quatre, only to come into contact with bunched up sheets and pillows. Trowa sighed; at least it was a good hallucination. Trowa rested his head on the edge of his bed, and cried.

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Trowa walked stoically into Preventer headquarters, barely nodding a greeting to familiar faces. Up the elevator to his floor, down the hall to his office. He impassionately sank into his chair, passively noting the blinking message light. With numb fingers, dulled by the emotional pain from this morning, he depressed the receive button. One message. Urgent. In other words, not good. Trowa sighed. He briefly scanned the message, paused, and read it thoroughly. Blinking, he immersed himself in the understanding of the neatly typed words. Dulled green eyes began to intensify, becoming wider and wider at each pass of the message. Trowa gaped at the note. He read it once more, words not making sense, almost if they were in a completely different language. He was about to read the message again when Quatre entered the office, smiling brightly at him. Quatre obviously was about to say something, but slowly his face fell at taking in Trowa's appearance.

"Trowa? What's wrong?"

"I…" Trowa couldn't find the words.

"Trowa, you look like you've just received your death sentence." Trowa looked down and thrust the message at Quatre, who took it with trembling hands. Quatre quickly scanned the wrinkled printout in his hands, his face falling even more. Trowa watched with growing concern. I didn't think that Quatre's skin could get that pale. He reached a hand tentatively to Quatre's shaking one.

"Quatre?"

"No." Quatre whispered, not seeing the present. "Not like this."

"Quatre?"

"I don't want to go like this." Quatre looked suddenly at Trowa. "I don't want to die." Trowa's hand clasped Quatre's wrist, and he pulled the shaking pilot to him.

"You won't die, Quatre. I won't let you." Trowa's arms snaked around Quatre's waist with a mind of their own. "You aren't allowed to die."

"How can you stop it? I have this feeling. It's in my heart. I won't make it."

"Yes you will. I promise." He said with more conviction than he'd planned.

"You…do?" Quatre looked up at him with tear shimmered eyes. Eyes that were impossibly huge. Eyes that swallowed you up whole, and loved you. Eyes that he could never get out of his dreams. He smiled at Quatre.

"I promise."

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"Where are you two going?" Heero's stern voice called out to Trowa and Quatre. It had lost a lot of the coldness they had grown accustom to during the war, but still kept its steely quality. Heero, to put it lightly, was still intimidating as all hell, except to Quatre. One commanding word from Heero, and even Lady Une was peeing her pants. Duo could stand up to Heero's glares, but not his demanding voice. Out of everyone Quatre knew, he was the only one who could face up to Heero's harsh voice. He could even feel Trowa tense up beside him.

"We have a mission." Quatre suppressed a giggle as Heero's eyebrow shot up with what could only be described as jealousy. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll be getting one soon." The look on Heero's face was, for lack of a better word, priceless. Quatre couldn't help his laughter this time, as he began snickering at Heero's more than relieved look. Quatre noticed Trowa staring at him, and began to turn, when Lady Une tapped them on their shoulders.

"Mission briefing, gentlemen." Looking at Heero, "I have a mission for you. I need to talk with you about it later this afternoon." Quatre again giggled at the expression of Heero's face-pure, unadultered, giddiness. It couldn't be called joy, no; joy was too subtle a word. Giddy was much better. Quatre followed Trowa into the small conference room. He took the seat beside Trowa and waited for the bad news.

"What kind of mission is this, Lady?" Trowa, as always, was ahead of the game. Quatre imperceptibly shook his head.

"We need information. The two of you will infiltrate the base; they're currently at the old New Edwards Base. You will retrieve sensitive information about any other bases, any personnel, and anything you can find on their plans. This mission is attack-free. There will be no confrontation if it can be at all helped. Questions?"

"How many guards? What kind of perimeter defense? What kind of interior defense?" Quatre didn't want to go in if he didn't at least have the correct information.

"We've noted approximately thirty guards at any given time. Perimeter defense looks to be quite simple. Barbed wire fencing with Keep Out notices and other Preventer issued signs. It appears as if each guard carries a handgun, and a rifle, or other semiautomatic weapon. No MS that we can detect. Interior, you're on your own there."

"So, you have no definitive information." Trowa reiterated.

"We know that they are there."

"You are asking Trowa and I to go into the field unprepared, uninformed, and outnumbered to retrieve information that may or may not be there?" Quatre asked.

"Yes."

"Mission accepted." Quatre sighed. There was no way out of this. If he didn't accept, Trowa would. And if Trowa didn't accept, then this war…well, he didn't really want to think of that. So he accepted.

"Mission accepted." Trowa echoed. Lady Une closed her eyes.

"You leave tomorrow at oh six hundred. Take the rest of the day off to relax ad prepare. Godspeed, gentlemen."

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Quatre watched the landscape rush past him. Oddly entertaining it was, trying to make something out of streaks of colors. Why the hell was Trowa driving so fast anyway? The blur of white and black that just flew by, said that the speed limit was only seventy-five. Trowa was going a hundred and ten. Oh, well. I sure as hell don't care. I've been in more dangerous situations before, like the one I'm getting myself into now. Wait-did Trowa just speed up? Shit. One hundred and fifteen miles per hour. Not good.

"Trowa? Why are we going so fast? We're ahead of schedule."

"…" I didn't really expect an answer from Trowa, but he did slow down, a little bit anyway.

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"Why are you driving so fast?" Quatre's voice brought Trowa back to the present. Shit. He was going over one hundred miles per hour-again. Not good. Trowa gripped the steering wheel like it was a lifeline.

"Trowa?" He resisted the urge to close his eyes, instead riveting them on the road stretching out before him. Quatre. Trowa had a bad feeling about this mission, too. He thought of Quatre's words when they had found out about the mission.

"How can you stop it? I have this feeling. It's in my heart. I won't make it."

"Yes you will. I promise."

"You…do?"

"I promise."

Quatre had looked so forlorn until Trowa promised to make sure he lived. Why wouldn't he make sure Quatre lived? I do love him, after all. So, he doesn't know it yet. He could feel Quatre's eyes on him.

"I have a weird feeling, that's all. I just want to get this mission over with as soon as possible."

"You, too." It was definitely a statement. He could picture Quatre bloody and broken. Damn my imagination. He must have shuttered visibly, for Quatre spoke up again.

"We're probably feeling this way because we haven't dealt with missions like this for a long time. We're probably just nervous." Was it me, or did Quatre not sound entirely convinced of his logic? He knew the words were just comfort words, so he didn't confront Quatre on them. They both needed the little white lie, anyway.

Less than an hour later, they pulled up to the motel.

"Good location. Close to the base so we don't have to take a vehicle." Quatre analyzed quietly. Trowa nodded, parking the car.

"I believe the base is about ten miles from here." Trowa mentioned as he grabbed their bags from the backseat. Quatre followed him into the office. The manager stepped out at the jangling of the bell hanging from the door.

"We need two rooms." Trowa sat the bags down at his feet.

"Sorry. I've only got one room."

"Fine. We'll take it." Trowa handed over cash as Quatre reached for the room key.

Upon entering the room, Trowa dropped his bags in disbelief. One bed? How the hell was he going to survive the night with one bed?

"Uh…Quatre?"

"Hmm?" Quatre had disappeared into the bathroom and therefore had probably not noticed the room.

"How do you want to do this?" I'll just let Quatre make the decision.

"I'll take the bed by the window." Shit. He hadn't seen the room. So much for hope.

"Um…There's only one bed, Quatre."

"What?" Quatre flew out of the bathroom, staring at the solitary bed. "Why do you want to leave this up to me?" Was Quatre sweating? He really looked nervous.

"I have no opinion on the matter. I'm leaving it up to you." Actually, that's a lie. I really want to share the bed. In fact, I want to fuck you all night.

"Well…the floor doesn't look overly comfy, and there's no couch, and the bed is a Queen-size. I guess we can share the bed." Trowa noticed Quatre swallowing nervously.

"Sounds good to me." Keep the excitement out of your voice. "I'll let you have the side by the window." Quatre nodded his thanks and deposited his luggage on the bed. Trowa watched Quatre open the bag to pull out the several guns and grenades they had packed along with the laptop they had included at the last minute. He and Quatre were going in fully armed, eventhough it was a reconnaissance mission. Each had a bad feeling, and neither wanted to take a chance. True, they were Gundam pilots, but that didn't mean they were invincible.

"Trowa, why don't you start cleaning and organizing our weapons while I try to hack into the base's systems." Trowa nodded his assent and began taking apart his gun.

"We'll leave tomorrow at three in the afternoon. That should put us at the base around sunset. We ought to be able to sneak in when its dark." Quatre brainstormed aloud. "What do you think, Trowa?"

"You're the strategist."

"Gee, you're so helpful." Quatre's sarcastic remark caused Trowa to look up from his task and raise an eyebrow quizzically. Quatre burst into giggles. The sight of a happy, giggling Quatre made him chuckle.

"We should go incognito." He wanted Quatre to laugh some more.

"Incognito?"

"Nothing on except black body paint." He was rewarded with Quatre toppling off of his chair. He slowly stood up and inadvertently bent over in the pretense of giving Quatre a hand up. Instead, he attacked Quatre's sides, eliciting a new round of breathless laughter. Quatre squirmed around on the floor while Trowa straddled him and continued the torture.

"No!…No…more! Oh…please…stop!" Quatre attempted to speak through giggles and gasps. Trowa didn't let up. Amongst squeals and pleads, Quatre managed to roll Trowa off of him. He was now under the probing fingers of Quatre. He tried wriggling his way back on top of Quatre, but he wasn't fast enough and Quatre climbed on top of him to continue the onslaught of revenge. The tables were effectively turned. Trowa was now the one panting and pleading, while Quatre laughed maniacally above him. He did, however, manage to fight back, somewhat, and the two of them ended up collapsed, Quatre on top of Trowa, both sprawled on the floor breathing hard with left over giggles.

He looked at Quatre, spread over him like a blanket and his breath caught. He's so close. I could just kiss him right now-hardly any effort. Quatre raised his head slightly and looked into his eyes. So beautiful, his eyes are so beautiful. He reached a hand up to brush some stray golden locks out of clear blue eyes. He closed his eyes for a moment, relishing in the full body contact. Opening his eyes, he smiled at Quatre. Now is the time to tell him. After all, if I don't tell him now, my body will tell him for me-soon. He could feel his manhood awakening. He left his hand resting on Quatre's pale cheek, memorizing the texture of the perfect skin. He was opening his mouth to tell Quatre about his love for him, when Quatre's eyes widened slightly and he abruptly pushed himself away. Trowa sat up, a thousand questions running through his mind, when Quatre mumbled a hasty apology and took off for the bathroom. Trowa's eyes followed Quatre until the door effectively blocked his vision. He slumped where he was and buried his face in his hands as he heard the shower start running. God, how I wish I could be in that shower with Quatre right now. He had come so close, too. Why had Quatre left so suddenly? He slowly stood and began to get ready for bed.

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Quatre shivered under the onslaught of frigid water. Stop thinking about naked Trowa. Stop thinking about naked Trowa. Stop thinking about naked Trowa. Fuck. They were so close. All he had to do was close his eyes and lean forward a fraction, and he would have been kissing Trowa. Oh, God. Trowa. Trowa, Trowa, Trowa. It was all Quatre could do to control his hormones. After all, he had wanted Trowa for quite some time, now. Hell, technically, he had wanted Trowa for a little over two years. He only figured it out about six months ago. Christ-how incredibly cowardly am I? Quatre chuckled, head resting against the slick tiles. Wufei would be calling me a woman, right now. He slowly fisted his hand a softly banged it against the shower wall. Realizing the futility of the gesture, he ended up laying his hand beside his head. I should have been a girl. If I had been a girl, I could love Trowa with no fear. Sure-Duo is gay, Heero is as well. I know that I am. Wufei likes women, eventhough he is constantly calling them weak. Trowa, I honestly have no clue. He is my best friend, well, actually that spot really is reserved for Duo, but Trowa-I want Trowa to be my lover. Anyway, I know that I am the only person who truly knows Trowa. He only opens up to me. I don't even know which way he swings, as Duo would put it. Hell, Duo is quickly becoming a bad influence on me…well, he always was a bad influence, but that's beside the point. Shit! I'm talking to myself-in my head-as I catch hypothermia-as if you catch hypothermia-because I'm taking the world's coldest shower…which is really doing me no good. He blushed as he looked down at himself, still standing at attention. Aw, hell. I have to get a good night's sleep. Quatre sighed as he wrapped a hand around himself, thinking only of Trowa.

Slipping out of the bathroom, Quatre pulled on his pajama bottoms, and carefully crawled into bed. He pulled the covers up to his shoulder as he lay on his side-facing Trowa. A blissfully asleep, Trowa. Quatre sighed, exasperated. Why the hell had he even suggested sleeping in the same bed? It was stupid hope. Hope that Trowa would cuddle him in the night, that he'd whisper love in his ear before kissing him passionately. God, how much more attractive can he get? The moonlight highlighting all of those perfectly defined muscles. Oh, Trowa, how I wish you'd hold me close to you with those arms. He hesitantly reached out to brush his fingers along Trowa's cheek, but stopped halfway-fingers stretched out, never to touch. I love you, Trowa, but I cannot tell you. He smiled at the peaceful expression on his beloved's face before turning away. Quatre tried to think of anything else except for Trowa until he finally succumbed to sleep.

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Trowa felt the weight on the bed change. He was facing Quatre's side of the bed, anxiously waiting for his arrival. He kept his eyes closed, waiting for Quatre to settle into sleep. He wanted to hold Quatre close to him, cradling him from the world. He was too scared to try when Quatre was still awake. He thought of his flute at home, the flute Quatre had given him. They still played together, whenever they got the chance. The last time they had made music together was about two weeks ago. Trowa tried to suppress a smile. He could feel Quatre staring at him, and resisted the urge to look at his angel. He'll be asleep soon, he'll be asleep soon, he'll be asleep soon. I hope, anyway. Trowa could feel Quatre shift a little, fighting his curiosity to open his eyes. Trowa almost lost control when he finally felt Quatre roll over. Trowa sighed inwardly while he opened his eyes to stare at Quatre's finely sculpted, bare back. Tracing the lines of shadowed muscles, Trowa waited until Quatre's breathing evened out. He tenderly reached over to Quatre to brush his fingers over Quatre's back. When Quatre didn't stir, he smoothly scooted closer to his love. Gathering Quatre in his arms, Trowa curled himself around his angel, and finally drifted into slumber as well.