Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Final Grade ❯ Chapter 16

Title: Final Grade

Chapter: 16/?

Warnings: Flagrant use of Portuguese (but with translation at the end)

Portuguese help: Dim Genesis

Disclaimers: Gundam Wing, its characters, and its settings are not mine, nor am I making any money from this story. GW is copyright Bandai/Sunrise/etc. and is used without permission, for entertainment purposes only. Amir, however, *is* mine, and may *not* be used without my permission.

Triton was wedged firmly between Relena and Sylvia as they headed back to Porccetti's to meet Dominique. The young man had long since stopped protesting, only grumbling now and then under his breath in Portuguese.

"Não *acredito* que eu me deixei convencer a fazer isso. Que duas teimosas . . . como é que o Wufei e o Heero conseguem aguentar? E mesmo que eu seja hetero, vou ficar sendo gay. Mulheres são criaturas horríveis, nojentas e insuportáveis."

"Are you whining, Triton?"

"Não."

"I think he's whining, Sylvia."

"I think you're right. I think Triton's trying to cover up his whining by speaking in Portuguese so we don't *know* he's whining." Sylvia reached behind them and pinched Triton's rump.

"Iiii! Stop that! Stop that, you evil women!" The young man jerked away from them and, just his luck, bumped into Dominique. "Droga . . ."

"Careful there, Triton." Strong hands gripped Triton's upper arms and righted him gently.

Triton raised his chin and refused to look at Relena and Sylvia, who were clinging to each other and covering up laughter. "Thank you." He looked around, desperate to get away from the two women.

"You know, I think I want a manicure. Heero likes it when I run my nails along his back and I can do it ever so much better with acrylic tips. Wanna come, 'Lena?"

"Well, yeah, but not here."

Triton groaned softly and Dominique laughed with the two, hands still around Triton's arms. "You two do that. I think Triton and I can find something interesting to do."

"I think I'm going to kill them. Or maybe myself," Triton muttered as the women walked off, still laughing together.

"They're not that bad. I think they're nice."

Moving out of the other's grip, Triton shrugged. "You don't know them very well. They're typical women. Pushy and nosey." He clasped his hands in front of him for lack of pockets to shove them in, yawning slightly.

"Aren't all women like that, though?" Dominique inquired, a grin on his face. Triton shrugged. "We've been abandoned, it would seem. You want to go do something?"

Triton turned and walked backward, smiling a bit. "Can you ice-skate?"

"Oh, no, I'd break myself."

"Have you tried?"

Dominique shook his head. "I can't even roller-skate with four wheels. I'm not very coordinated." The half grin was back on his face as he watched Triton. "Though I'm guessing you're extremely well-coordinated."

"Worked in a circus all my life, until recently. I'm a contortionist, too," Triton added and had the gratification of seeing Dominique's eyes go wide and his face go a little pale.

"No shit. I don't believe you."

"I'd prove it, but I'm not dressed for it." Triton absently reached both hands behind his back and clasped them together, drawing them up. He stopped walking, bringing the circle of his arms over his head and to his front. "Well, that's about all I can do until I'm in pants."

Dominique was staring at him, eyes wide and unblinking. He shook his head and laughed in disbelief. "Doesn't that *hurt*?"

"Not anymore. It's never really hurt, actually. I'm a natural contortionist. There was one girl at the circus who was more flexible than most people and could do a little on her own, but she wanted to do what I can do so I started to train her. She'd tell you it hurts like hell, but I've been doing it almost all my life."

The young man grinned and shook his head again. "I've *got* to introduce you to Koii."

"Koii? Who's that?"

"My boyfriend." At Triton's stare Dominique laughed. "We've got a very open relationship."

"A what?"

"An open relationship. As in, we're allowed to date and/or sleep with other people, as long as we let each other know and spend most of our time together." He shook wavy hair out of his eyes and raised an eyebrow. "What? I didn't grow two more noses, did I?"

"No . . . I was just . . . thinking."

"Oh. Just thinking." Dominique reached out and brushed his fingers over Triton's skirt. "Nice. Almost Elizabethan. Where'd you get it?"

"Someplace on Earth. It was my sister's, but when the circus left she gave it to me."

"You always dress up?"

Triton flushed a little at his companion's appreciative gaze. "It's a project for Psychology. I don't have to after school ends for the summer."

"Are you going to keep it up, though?"

"Mm?" Triton shook his head. "No. I don't think so." He got a nod and they walked along for a while, looking at various shops. A cutlery shop drew Triton's attention, or rather, the knife set in the window did. "Cathrine would love that . . ."

"Who's Cathrine?"

"My sister. She throws knives. She's always had a fascination for them." Triton almost had his nose pressed against the glass, looking in at the set. The black handles were large enough to have a good balance and grip but small enough to fit on a woman's hands, and the guards elegantly curved out and up to a point. The metal of the curved portion of the guards and the knife part was silver-ish, and there was a gold-colored inlay on the handles and guards, spiraling around them. "Do you mind if we stop here?"

"Not at all."

With a smile Triton went into the shop, Dominique trailing behind him. Two young women were looking at a sword on the wall and the brunette looked up and excused herself from her companion.

"Hello. May I help you?"

"I was looking at the black-handled knife set in the window. How much is it?"

"With the gold inlay?" Triton nodded and she pursed her lips, thinking. "That one is . . . five hundred credits."

'Cathy's birthday is in a few months . . . I don't have the money yet but maybe they'll let me pay it off in increments.' "Do you have payment plans, or do you want the money up front?" Her name-tag said Janet.

"Oh, no, sir, we have a lot of payment plans. Are you interested in buying the set?"

"Yes, I am. My sister is a knife enthusiast and I think she'd love it."

"All right. We can hold the set for two weeks if you don't have money for a down payment now."

Triton nodded and glanced at the redhead Janet had been talking to. She looked familiar, like . . . Like the Dean. He watched her cautiously. Maybe it was her sister, Shelby. He hoped so.

"Sir?" He turned back to Janet. "If you're interested, the down payment is forty-five credits."

"Ah, all right. Thank you. Would you please hold the set for me? I can have the money in a week or so."

Janet smiled. "Sure thing. Come over here and sign a few papers, and you know you have to be eighteen to buy the set?"

"I'm nineteen," Triton replied. "I have ID if you need it, too."

"All right." Dominique was looking at the swords on the wall so Triton followed Janet and waited as she got what he needed to sign. Cathrine was going to go ballistic with joy. That thought made him smile.

A soft cough made him turn around. It was the redhead, one of the Ybarra twins. "You're Triton, right? Triton Bloom?"

She didn't have the gleam in her eyes that the Dean did, so it must be Shelby. Triton nodded. "Yes, I am."

"Oh, good. I was planning on talking with you today, but you weren't at school." She coughed a bit and rubbed her throat. "I shouldn't have been, but, well, I had to be. Anyway, I was looking through the student files and yours caught my eye. Do you have time to talk?"

Another glance at Dominique. The young man shrugged at him and Triton nodded. "Yes."

"Please sign here, and here, and wherever it says to sign," Janet said as she handed him a small pile of papers.

"Thank you. Go on," he said to Shelby.

"Well, Mr. Bloom, your file says that you got into Joiston with scholarship money and an agreement to perform in the gymnastics team. I know the team is done for the year and I hear that you're very good, but the team didn't perform as much as scheduled."

"I know. Mr. Han broke his foot."

"I know." Shelby looked a little nervous and coughed again. "See, what happened was that you didn't have enough scholarship money or family help, so you signed the agreement to sort of work part-time as a member of the team and those performance and practice hours would pay the rest of your tuition. But, seeing as the team didn't do as much as they'd planned, that leaves you a little short of covering the tuition costs."

Triton frowned. Great, another problem he had to deal with. "Well . . . How much am I short?"

Shelby sighed. "Almost a thousand credits. The cost of the performances the gymnastics team didn't do *would* have covered it, no problem, but . . . I'm sorry, Triton."

"So what does this mean?" Almost a thousand dollars . . . Where was he going to get that kind of money? Kind blue eyes and golden hair flickered across his vision and he shook his head sharply to dispel them. He was *not* going to ask Quatre Winner for money, not after what had happened and *not* after how he'd been treating the man.

"That's where the good news comes in," the soon-to-be Dean smiled.

"You never said there was good news."

"I forgot." She blushed and it would have been pretty had Triton been the least bit interested in women. "The college daycare has an opening and I looked through your records from the circus. You spent a lot of time dealing with small children and teaching them gymnastics. I called the circus and spoke with your sister, the ringmaster and a few other friends of yours and they said you were the best with children and had been performing all your life, so I'd say that that qualifies you to take the daycare position if you want. I'd be glad to change it from just watching the children to being their physical education teacher."

That sounded wonderful. This woman who smiled so invitingly at Quatre didn't seem so bad anymore. Triton smiled. "I'd love that, Ms. Ybarra. I don't need a teaching credential or anything?"

"Not for something this minor, no. I called Quatre Winner about it and he agreed. I think it's wonderful that he's not making you pay rent for living with him. That means that you don't have to give up part of what we'll pay you to pay for rent."

Triton nodded and then her words sunk in. Quatre wasn't making him pay rent? "What? Quatre's not making me pay rent?"

Shelby blinked a looked a little confused as she nodded. "Well, that's what he said. He said he had enough money and didn't need to be taking any from a college student. He also said he didn't mind at all because his son adores you, so he thought it a fair trade."

Triton started to get angry but almost immediately he sighed and nodded. It was a blessing that Quatre wasn't making him pay rent, and it appeared that Quatre was still trying to apologize.

"Thank you, Ms. Ybarra. When do you want me to start?"

"Well, let's schedule it for after school, when most of the parents who go to Joiston have to go to work. Do you have any other jobs?"

"Just one, but it's got flexible hours." Very flexible hours. Triton didn't think Ralph would protest. He looked up at Dominique, who looked rather bored. "Is that all, Ms. Ybarra? I hate to rush you, but . . ."

Shelby looked behind her. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were here with someone. If I think of anything more I'll let you know." She smiled brightly. "You two have fun, now."

"We will. Thank you, Ms. Ybarra." Shelby nodded and walked out, nodding to Dominique.

"Who was that?"

"The new Dean at Joiston. Offered me a job." Triton glanced at Janet behind the counter. "Is there anything else, miss?"

She shook her head. "No, just get the down payment to us as soon as you can."

"Thank you." Triton turned to his companion. "I'm sorry that took so long. Is there anything in particular you'd like to do?"

The young man shrugged. "Let's see . . . What do *you* like to do? You don't look like the type to be interested in video games or sports or anything like that. You know, typical college guy stuff. Girls look like they're definitely out."

Triton had to laugh at that, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. "I'm still not sure about the girls part," he admitted, "but I'm pretty sure they're out."

"Especially with the two you deal with, eh?"

Triton had never really experienced the sort of companionship he and Dominique gradually built up over the next hour and a half. It wasn't romantic; sex had nothing to do with it. They simply . . . talked. Triton had never just had a conversation with someone he barely knew before. The young man was starting to realize that for all the travelling he'd done while with the circus, he'd led an extremely sheltered life. He had started out rather shy and James had caused him to shut up almost entirely and avoid anyone he didn't know very well, and he'd almost never gone into town with other members of the circus when they'd been performing. He'd stuck close by Cathrine, hoping that James would leave him alone. He'd never tried to open up to anyone.

By the time the two young men ran into Relena and Sylvia, Triton had acquired himself a friend. Not a close friend, but a friend nonetheless. Dominique waved the girls down as they were about to enter a wig shop, grinning.

"Hello, lovely ladies! Where have you *been* all our lives?"

The two women started laughing, waiting for the men to catch up.

"We've been discovering the joys of being lesbian lovers," Sylvia replied, sliding an arm around Relena's waist.

"Well, might we entice you to try men? I assure you, we don't bite unless you want us to." All three turned toward Triton, mouths open to varying degrees. The young man smiled innocently at them. "What? Shocked speechless?"

"He's got a sense of humor," Sylvia murmured to Relena.

"I wonder if there's a store here that sells them."

"You should buy one for Wufei if there is."

"I'll look into that."

Triton chuckled and offered his arms to Relena and Sylvia, who immediately took them. "You were saying something about buying a wig today?" he asked his Queen.

"Yeah, that's what we were doing next. Look! I have nails now!" She held her hands up, showing off her lacquered tips. They were silver with white tips. "Aren't they lovely?"

"I like them," Triton agreed, turning to admire Sylvia's dark red ones. "Lovely, both of you." With giggles he and Dominique were pulled into the shop, told to stand still and covered with wigs. "I thought *you* were supposed to be getting the wigs," he murmured.

Relena grinned. "But you're so much fun to dress up!" She turned and picked up a long red wig, setting it on her head and peering at herself in a mirror. "Nah, Duo'd molest me and Heero would kill him."

Sylvia giggled. "Try the light blonde one. Ooooh, you look *good* in that one!" She adjusted the wig that Triton was currently wearing. "Mm, I'm not sure. 'Lena, is this his color?"

Relena turned and thought for a moment. "I'm not sure. Dominique?"

"Well, if he just wore it to clubs it'd be fine. Clubs are dark and it would look great in the dark. I wouldn't wear it during the day, though, not without really extravagant makeup."

Triton looked in a mirror at the jet-black mass of hair. He didn't look like himself and suppressed a nervous chuckle. "I'm not sure. I don't go out too much."

"You should go out more," Dominique said. "If you want, Koii and I are going clubbing this weekend. Want to come along?"

Triton hesitated for a second, then took a plunge. "I'm sorry, I can't. I'm going to a Renaissance Faire."

"Really? A friend of ours is going to one, too. Maybe another weekend?"

"Sure." Triton flushed only a little. Well, Cathrine had always told him to get a life. Maybe he'd have some news for her when she called next.

* * *

"*Nooooooo*, I *didn't*. I *told* Father what happened! He said that I should keep out of other people's business! *Why*? He and Triton *belong* together!"

Triton paused just short of entering the living room, tilting his head. Amir continued talking to whomever he was talking to.

"But *Mother* . . . Yes, Mother. I understand. But I don't *want* Triton to hate Father! Father loves him and it was an accident, I *know* it! Triton won't believe us, though! Why won't he believe us?" There was a long pause and then Amir's disgusted breath. "Well, *I* don't like it one bit! Yes, I'll be good . . ." The last was said most reluctantly. "No, I won't try to get them together. I'll be good, Mother, I promise!" Another pause. "No, I don't have a girlfriend! I want to like boys like Ms. Triton might like boys! What's wrong with that? You and Father always told me it wasn't wrong! Oh. Well, then I'll do what Father did and marry some girl to get an heir! What's wrong with *that*?! You and Father did it!" Triton had to laugh at Amir's tone. The boy was so incredibly cute. He opened the door and peek in, smiling and waving at Amir. Amir's face lit up. "Oh, Mother, Triton's here! I have to go! Yes, I love you!" He made kissing noises at the phone. "Goodbye!" Dropping it into the receiver, Amir dashed at Triton, who crouched and picked him up, swinging him around.

"Miss me, Amir?"

The boy giggled and clung to Triton's neck, covering his face with kisses. "Oh, I did! I *did*! I missed you *so* much, Miss Triton! Where were you? Were you sick? I love your dress! You're so beautiful, Miss Triton! I wish I was as beautiful as you are."

Triton laughed and hugged Amir tightly. "You're just fine as you are, Amir. I think that you're going to be very, very handsome when you grow up."

"Like Father?"

Triton winced a little. "Not exactly, unless your hair gets lighter. You've got a darker complexion than he does."

"What's a complexion?"

Sitting down with Amir curled in his lap, Triton smiled and played with his dark blond hair. "A complexion is how dark or light your skin is, or how clear your skin is or not. Your skin is darker than your father's, so you've got a darker complexion."

"And your skin is darker than Father's, so you've got a dark complexion?"

"A darker complexion that he does, yes."

Amir nodded and rested his head on Triton's shoulder. "Oh. So will I look like Father when I grow up?"

"You'll look a little like him, but not exactly like him. You look a little like him now."

"Because I'm me, right? And I can't be anyone else?"

Triton winced a little and nodded. "Right." 'And because trying to be someone else just gets you more pain.'

The door opened and Quatre looked in, smiling at the two on the couch. "How's your mother, Amir?"

"She's fine. We had a nice talk."

"How's her fiancé?"

The small boy shrugged flippantly. "I don't know." Quatre tilted his head to the side and watched his son until he started to fidget. "What? I forgot to ask."

"That's all right," Quatre replied thoughtfully. "Ask next time. It's polite."

"Yes, Father." Amir slid off Triton's lap and knelt in front of the coffee table in front of the couch, picking up a crayon and starting to scribble on a piece of white paper. "I'm going to draw a picture," he announced matter-of-factly. "A picture for you and Triton. But you can't see it yet so you both need to leave." He bent over his drawing, arms around it to hide it from view. "Shoo! You can't see it yet."

Quatre shook his head and smiled. "All right, we're leaving." Without waiting for Triton he turned around and walked off, hearing the young man leave the room after him. There was a moment of silence as Quatre started upstairs, then the sound of Triton running.

"Mr. Winner . . ."

Quatre paused halfway up the staircase and turned, looking down at Triton. The young man was at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at him. "Yes?"

"Why aren't you making me pay rent? I spoke with Ms. Ybarra this afternoon. We ran into each other at the mall."

"Because I have enough money, like I told her. I don't mind letting you stay here at all and Amir loves you. If you're worried about earning your keep you can baby-sit when I go out, which I hardly ever do."

Triton was leaning half on the banister, looking up at Quatre with what the Arab could only assume were wide eyes, as his student's soft brown hair obscured half of his face. "Thank you," he murmured softly.

Quatre started back down the stairs, swallowing slightly. "You're more than welcome," he whispered, stopping one stair higher than Triton. The boy looked up at him and Quatre reached out, lightly brushing his fingertips over the baby-fine fall of chestnut. The young man drew back and turned his head slightly, Quatre's fingers now resting on his lips.

"I don't want you," he whispered.

"I know," Quatre replied solemnly, leaning forward and down to brush a feathery kiss over his student's lips. A shuddering rush of breath left Triton's mouth as he pressed forward, then pulled back. "I don't want you," Quatre said softly.

"I know," Triton replied, emerald eyes full and brimming with desire long pushed aside and shoved deep down. He took another trembling breath and stepped back one step, then another, until he was out of the foyer.

Quatre lowered his head and stared at his balled fists, emotional exhaustion washing over him. With a glance at the grandfather clock next to the door he rolled his eyes. It was six and his dinner with Shelby was at seven fifteen. The woman was attractive but Quatre suddenly didn't want to see her. He wanted to see Triton again, looking at him with those eyes that spoke the truth. Or maybe he was deceiving himself.

'Wouldn't be the first time,' he thought as he turned and headed back up the stairs, slowly stripping his clothes off when he got to his room. 'Then again, with Heero I was still accepting that I liked men . . . and Yasmeen was there to smack me around when I was being too thick-skulled . . .' He shook his head and got dressed, semi-formal. He wasn't taking Shelby to a five-star restaurant, no, but he wasn't taking her to a fast-food joint either. 'Besides, I refuse to give her the wrong impression.'

Five minutes later the young teacher stepped into the dining room, where Amir and Triton were playing a card game. Both looked up and one smiled brightly.

"Father, you look wonderful! Are we going out tonight?"

"No, Amir, just me. I have a . . ." Quatre glanced at Triton before continuing, "date."

"Really?" From the looks on both faces, neither was very happy about it.

"Yes.

"With who?"

"The new Dean." Quatre kissed Amir on the forehead. "Be good for everyone, all right?"

Amir snorted and slid off of Triton's lap, running out of the room and screaming for Relena. Triton just looked Quatre up and down and smirked knowingly. "It won't work out."

"Pardon?"

"It won't work out. Between you and Ms. Ybarra."

"Really? And why not?"

Triton shrugged. "You're too different. It just won't work."

"Really. Well," Quatre said as he turned to leave, "the next time I wish to hear your opinion I'll ask you for it."

"Pode pedir," Triton muttered, glaring at the tabletop. After he heard the front door close and Quatre's car drive away he got up, heading for his own car. He had to go model for Ralph, after all. "Idiota. Ela não é a certa para ele, não vai dar certo. Não pode dar certo." He continued convincing himself until he got to Ralph's place. True enough, Ralph lived in an old theatre. "Que homem estranho. Por quê eu nunca consigo conhecer gente normal?" He raised his hand and knocked. Nothing. He rang the doorbell. Nothing. "Que inferno, ele me disse para estar aqui e eu cheguei na hora certa. Agora cadê ele?" The young man gave himself brownie points for not kicking the door in frustration. "Fodam-se todos os homens na minha vida!" He tried the doorbell one more time and before his finger left the button, the door opened. "Bom, sorte minha." (3)

Ralph looked down at him with a small, slightly confused smile on his lips. "Translation?"

"None of your business," Triton snapped. At Ralph's raised eyebrows he flushed and looked to the side. "I'm sorry. Bad day. I was just muttering to myself."

"Oh. Well, come on in. I was in the back. Hungry?"

Triton discovered that yes, he was very hungry. "Not really," he said.

"All right. Just tell me if you get hungry. I've got plenty of food."

Ralph led him through a corridor to a larger room. Looking up, Triton found that the "walls" didn't go up to the ceiling. In fact, it looked like the entire theatre was one big room that Ralph had added partitions to, to make several rooms. Various nick-knacks and wall hangings were strewn about, a few photos and some other things that Triton didn't recognize. Ralph's light touch on his arm made him jump and he flushed, embarrassed to be caught staring.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking at Ralph's throat. Not a good idea. Ralph had a very nice throat. Triton looked a little to the side.

"That's all right. I'll give you a tour later, if you'd like." The older man sat on a long couch and rested his feet on a coffee table, hands resting behind his head as he watched Triton. Triton fidgeted until Ralph spoke. "You know, I like that outfit," he said thoughtfully. "I think I want to paint you in it."

"Thank you," Triton murmured. "What do you want me to do?"

"Nothing, right now. Just sit or stand or whatever you want. When you get in a good pose I'll tell you." Ralph grinned. "Unorthodox, yes, but it's best to get a natural pose. I think so, at any rate."

"Oh." Triton looked around curiously, then moved to a figure resting on a nightstand, looking down at it. It was a dancing woman. With a glance at Ralph for permission he picked it up, tracing the contours delicately. Ralph's hand on his wrist made him jump and look up, lips brushing against the other's. He gasped softly, lower lip trembling as Ralph's intense eyes stared into his own.

"Don't move," Ralph murmured. "You're beautiful like that."

(1) "I can't *believe* I let myself get talked into this. Pushy, pushy women. How can Wufei and Heero stand them? Even if I'm straight I'm staying gay. Women are horrible, icky, nasty creatures."

(2) "No." (Zoi's note: Now wasn't *that* hard to figure out?)

(3) "You do that, . . . Stupid man. She's not right for him. It won't work out. It can't work out. . . . Strange, strange man. Why can't I ever meet normal people? . . . Damn it, he told me to be here and I'm on time. Where *is* he? . . . Fuck all the men in my life! . . . Well, just my luck."