Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Final Grade ❯ Chapter 6

Title: Final Grade
Chapter: 6/?
Warnings: More shounen-ai limey stuff. Small children running loose. Angst.
Disclaimers: Gundam Wing and all characters associated with it is not mine, nor am I making any money from this. This is purely for my personal enjoyment, and the enjoyment of the people who read this. GW is copyright Bandai, Sunrise, etc.

"You're up early." Cathrine yawned as she walked out of her room, then rubbed her eyes. "What gives?"

Triton merely nodded as he sipped at his coffee, looking at the clock. "One hour."

"What?"

"One hour until Qu---until Mr. Winner gets here." He tilted his head toward the kitchenette. "There's more coffee in there."

Another yawn. "Thank you. So, one hour. Have you been watching the clock?" Cathrine disappeared into the kitchenette, then came back out with a large mug in her hand, steam curling upward from it.

"Mm."

"That doesn't tell me a lot, Triton." Cat sat down next to him, sighing. "Too early, ne?"

"I guess. I've been up since four."

"Four?! You're crazy, Triton. Why?"

Triton shrugged. "I forgot to pack yesterday. I'm spending the weekend with Mr. Winner, remember?" He stretched his long legs under the coffee table then leaned forward, smiling into his mug.

Cathrine was silent, probably giving him an odd look, then shrugged and stood up. "Have fun. I'm going to get dressed."

"Have fun." Triton got up when she'd left the room, hugging himself across the waist. He'd finished packing around four-thirty, then had chosen today's outfit with great care. Nothing like that one Monday's outfit, but nothing that covered too much. 'I'm not going to be slutty about this.' He got up and went into his own room to dress.

His skirt hit a little above mid thigh, pleated so it didn't take much to set it swirling around Triton's legs, and was the color of the sky at midnight, the darkest blue-violet, but that color changed every time the light hit it. It was silk, as was the belly-shirt of the same color. Triton smiled as he carefully painted his nails varying dark shades of blue and purple, blowing softly on them to dry them quicker. He'd gotten up early to beg one of the trapeze girls to do them professionally, suffering through her heated looks and promising her dinner in return. He tapped the long tips against the wall for a moment before turning to his make-up. He'd saved that for last.

'I don't mind it that much, but the lipstick is hard to wear if you're in the habit of biting your lips or chewing on them or anything like that. Like I am.' Triton sighed as he smoothed on a light base, then started on the blush. Not too much; just enough to give his cheeks a soft, rosy glow, then dark blue and purple eyeshadow. Triton was setting his mascara down when he heard a car pull up. 'Is that Quatre? He's half an hour early if it is.' There was a knock at the trailer door, and Triton shrugged before going to see who it was.

Quatre was standing there, two daisies in his hand. He blinked, then looked Triton up and down slowly, then blinked again. And again. Triton raised the back of his hand to his mouth and covered a smile, then opened the screen and stood to the side.

"You're early."

Quatre just nodded, eyes never leaving Triton as he walked in.

"Are you deliberately not speaking, Mr. Winner?" Triton closed the door as Cathrine poked her head out of her bedroom, then smiled an almost feral smile.

"Good morning, Mr. Winner. You're early today."

That jolted Quatre out of the daze he'd been in and he smiled, looking away from the wet dream standing to his left. "Ah, yes, I am. I'm sorry, I should have called, but I forgot. There's something I have to do this morning before I go to the school."

"Oh. All right." Cathrine closed her door, then opened it. "If you see Hilde today, give her lots of detention." The door shut again, a little more firmly than normal, then opened again. "Better yet, flunk her." Cathrine's door slammed shut.

Quatre and Triton were still for a moment, waiting for Cathrine to open the door again, but nothing happened. The Arab looked at his student.

"Are they fighting?"

"Yes." Triton bit his lower lip, then stopped. "Stay here; I'm almost ready."

"Yes, sir." Quatre looked around as Triton went back in his room, then tilted his head back a bit and watched the young man through the half-open door. He was bending over at the waist, which raised the skirt up to an almost indecent level, and was looking in the mirror. 'Mmm . . . Mommy, I want one of those for my birthday.' Quatre smirked and leaned in the doorway. "Nice room." 'Nice bed. Let's make good use of it when your sister's not around. Hell, let's include the whole damned trailer, shall we?'

Triton looked up with a tube of dark, shimmery lipstick halfway to his mouth, which was partway open. "Thank you." He turned back to the mirror, raising his eyes to look at Quatre through it. "Are you going to watch me?"

A shrug. "I thought I might. Why? Does it bother you?" The older man absently ran his fingers along the base of his throat, watching Triton evenly.

The young man swallowed and licked his lips. "Well, if you insist on watching me then come in and close the door. I don't like open doors." He turned back to the mirror.

"As you wish." Quatre stepped in and shut the door, then walked toward Triton, eyes on the boy's rear. "If that skirt were an inch shorter . . ." He bit back at the urge to put both hands on Triton's rump and squeeze softly, not really feeling like getting a black eye.

"I know." Triton looked up again, his upper lip a deep purple, or maybe it was blue. The color changed the same way the color of his outfit changed, and Quatre was captivated. "You're staring."

"I am not."

"You are, too. You're staring at my mouth."

Quatre smiled slightly. "It's a very beautiful mouth."

"Why are you staring at my mouth?"

"I want to kiss your mouth." Quatre blinked after his last reply, then raised an eyebrow at Triton. The back-and-forth banter had caused him to let his control lapse. 'Is this really a bad thing, though? Better to be honest, I suppose . . .'

"Why don't you?" Triton placed both hands behind him and pushed himself up onto his vanity, legs an inch or two apart, and leaned back a bit. 'Kiss me, damn it, because I'm not going to ask.'

Quatre's eyes widened and he moved forward slowly, waiting to wake up from this dream. "I just might." He put his hands on either side of Triton and leaned forward, catching a whiff of a very faint perfume. His head bent down, taking a deep breath of Triton's neck and stifling a soft moan. "God . . . You're wondrous, Triton . . ." Before the boy could answer Quatre gently kissed him, moving his hands to Triton's thighs and pushing the skirt up, bit by bit. There was hesitation, as there always was, but less. Quatre kept his mouth against Triton's, alternating between slight and heavy pressure, moving his hands around to the base of the boy's back and pulling him closer.

Triton whimpered softly and slid his arms around Quatre's neck, hesitantly kissing him back. He gasped softly as he was lifted and they turned, then felt the softness of his bed beneath him. The Latin boy's eyes widened. He broke the kiss and watched Quatre, who was kneeling between his legs. Quatre never broke eye contact, just leaned forward and kissed him again, softly, as his hands resumed their exploration of Triton's thighs. Triton sighed softly and gave up, closing his eyes and leaning back. Quatre's arms were around him in an instant, gently lowering him to the bed.

'I can't believe he's letting me do this,' was the only coherent thought going through Quatre's mind as he shifted them both around until they were laying fully on the one-person bed, mouth again moving over Triton's. The boy slowly but willingly opened his mouth and let Quatre slide his tongue inside. The Arab groaned softly at the same time Triton did and tightened his grip on the boy's legs, drawing the left one up higher. Triton responded by wrapping it loosely around Quatre's waist, which shifted their groins against each other. Both men gasped softly into the kiss.

'Oh, God . . . Please . . .' Triton wiggled his hips a little more, pushing them up into Quatre's. The friction was delicious, enticing. He wanted more, but it wasn't to be. Quatre's hand was moving higher on his leg, sliding lower toward his rear as there was a knock on the door. They both froze.

"Mr. Winner, don't you have somewhere to be before school?"

"Damn it," Quatre muttered as he pulled away, "I forgot." He looked down at Triton, who was breathing heavily, hands pressing against Quatre's back with his eyes tightly closed. "Triton . . ."

"I heard," was the breathless whisper. "I'm . . . getting up. Really. We need to get up." He raised his voice. "Th-thank you, Cat. We'll be right out."

"Yeah, whatever. Damn it, no being happy in this household! New rule! If I'm not happy, no one's happy! Got that?"

Quatre sat up and pulled Triton with him, holding the boy to his chest. "Yes, ma'am. We're not happy at all. Very, very sad."

"That's better." Cathrine stomped away, mumbling to herself.

Quatre sighed. "If Hilde acts anything like her today . . ." He sighed again as Triton slid off the bed and went back to his mirror and lipstick, wiping at his face.

"Here." Triton tossed his teacher a washcloth. "There's lipstick on your face."

"I hate lipstick. Have I told you that?" Quatre got up and stood next to Triton, wiping the dark smear from his face. "Crap. It's still there."

Triton snorted softly before dabbing a bit of pale cover-up onto his finger. "Hold still, I'll fix it." Quatre held still, eyes narrowed. "It's pale; what I used for the kimono outfit. It blends." He put the bottle down and twisted the cap back on, then re-checked his own make-up. "Shall we go?"

"Let's." Quatre held the door open and they both walked quickly out, Triton pausing to get his bags and give Cathrine a peck on the cheek. She stopped him.

"Not in that color, boy." Triton sighed and kissed the air right above his sister's cheek. "Better. Go away." She turned to the side, drawing her knees up to her chest and staring forlornly out the window.

Triton gave her a look of concern before following Quatre outside, sliding into the passenger seat. "When do I get to drive this?"

Quatre snorted. "Vintage A.C. 116 Python? Never. I'm having it buried with me when I die."

Triton sighed. "All right. Where are we going?"

Quatre shifted a bit, eyes locked on the road. "To pick someone up. You'll see when we get there."

"Oh." Triton licked his lips and looked out the window. Quatre didn't seem up for conversation, so they rode in silence until they got to the nearest spaceport, where Quatre parked the car and got out, looking around. "They just landed. Come on." He started walking toward the entrance, hands in his pockets.

Triton got out and shut the door, wondering at his teacher's attitude. 'Was it what happened in my room? No, it's who we're picking up that's gotten him like this. It's like he's afraid to show me, almost. Who are we picking up?' The passengers had just disembarked, then there was a shriek from the left.

"Father!!!"

Quatre turned with a huge smile on his face as a dark blond boy broke free from an Arab woman's grasp, bolting toward Quatre like banshees were chasing him.

"Amir!" The Arab man knelt down and was almost bowled over by the boy, standing and swinging him around. "I missed you! How are you? How's your mother?"

The boy shrieked with delight and clung to Quatre's neck. "Father Father Father Father!!! I missed you, too, Father! Did you wait a long time? Did you bring the Python? Can I drive it, Father? Please?"

Triton's eyes widened and his jaw dropped as he backed up, shaking his head. "Father?" he whispered. "Quatre has a child?" He couldn't believe it. Quatre . . . that boy . . .

"Who's she, Father? Did you get married and not tell me?" The boy was pointing at Triton, sea blue eyes

'Quatre's eyes,' Triton thought,

large and inquisitive as he peered at the Latin student.

"She who? Married?" Quatre laughed as he turned. "Amir, I would never get married without having you there! This is Triton. He's a student of mine."

Amir shook his head. "Nuh-uh, Father. She's a girl, not a boy. See? She has breasts! Girls have breasts. Boys don't. They have---"

"Amir, enough. If your father says she's---he's a boy, then trust him." The Arab woman had caught up with the child, offering Triton a slight smile before turning to Quatre and bowing slightly from the waist. "Quatre."

"Yasmeen." Quatre shifted the child he held and pulled the woman into a tight embrace that she returned, kissing her cheek softly before he let her go. "It's good to see you, Yasmeen."

"What about me, Father? Is it good to see me?"

Quatre laughed. "It always is, son." He turned to Triton and held out his hand. "Triton, I'd like you to meet my son and heir, Amir. This beautiful young woman is Yasmeen, his mother."

"But she says to tell everyone we meet I'm her brother!" Amir was bouncing up and down in Quatre's arms, eyes bright with joy. "Are you really a boy? Really? For complete sure? You look like a girl to me."

Triton looked from Yasmeen to Quatre, then back at Amir. "I'm a boy," he murmured quietly, feeling like curling up in a ball and sobbing. Quatre had a son . . . The woman was Amir's mother. Was she Quatre's wife? But he'd said he was single.

Quatre took another, closer look at Triton and sighed, setting Amir down. "Stand on your own feet, Amir." He pulled Yasmeen forward. "This is Yasmeen, my ex-wife. Yasmeen, this is my friend and student, Triton."

The woman held her hand out to Triton. "It's always a pleasure to meet a friend of Quatre's. A student, too?"

Triton nodded mutely and kissed the back of her hand, looking at Quatre as he straightened. He felt betrayed. 'Why didn't you tell me?' he thought at the blond, then looked down as Amir tugged at his skirt.

"Why are you wearing girls' clothes?"

"It's . . . for a class I'm taking," Triton explained, then knelt down so he was level with the small child. "How old are you?"

"I'm eight!" Seven fingers were held up.

Quatre chuckled. "Add another finger, Amir."

"Oh." Eight fingers. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight!" He beamed at Triton. "You knelt down! Not many people do that. I can see you better this way!"

Triton smiled. "And I can see you better, too." He looked up at Quatre. "We're going to be late . . ."

Quatre nodded, then turned to Yasmeen. "We have to get to school. Thank you for bringing him, Yasmeen. Lunch, as usual?"

"Yes, please." Yasmeen knelt down. "Amir, I'm leaving now."

"All right, Mother." Amir turned away from Triton and hugged his mother tightly, pecking her cheek. She smiled and kissed him back.

"Have fun with your father. Goodbye, my son."

"Goodbye, Mother! I will!" He waved, then clung to Quatre's leg. "Are we going to your work, Father?"

"Yes, we are. Do you have your bags?"

"Just this." Amir turned around to show them the small backpack he had on. "The rest was sent to your house. Is my room still there?" He took Quatre's hand, then reached for Triton's.

Quatre laughed as Triton took the child's hand nervously, looking at his teacher. "No, it's not. I decided I didn't like it, so I had it removed from the house."

"No! You didn't, Father! You didn't! Did he, Triton? Did he really?" They started walking, Amir swinging Quatre and Trowa's hands in his own. "Did you, Father?"

Triton shrugged. "I'm not sure. There was a rather large hole in the house when I went over there yesterday, so maybe." Quatre caught his gaze and they shared smiles over Amir's head, one content, the other tinged with sorrow.

"No! Father, you didn't! Where will I sleep?!"

Quatre chuckled. "There's always the servant's quarters . . . Or the stables . . ."

"Father!!!"

Quatre laughed again and gave in as he opened the back door. "Get in. No, your room's still there, love."

"Why can't I sit up front, Father?"

"Because Triton is, and he has the longer legs."

"Oh." There was a sigh of relief. "I'm glad my room's still there." The child closed the door and buckled up, looking around merrily.

"Is he always like this?" Triton murmured.

Quatre looked at him over the top of the car. "Yes." He bit his lower lip. "Triton . . ."

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Amir. I should have."

Triton sighed. "Yes, you should have." He got in and closed his door. "But you didn't," he continued after Quatre was in, "and you can't take it back. I should have realized you had an heir."

Amir leaned forward as far as he could. "I'm the heir! That's me!"

Quatre smiled at the boy in the rearview mirror. "Yes, that's you. Triton, I am sorry. I wasn't expecting---"

"Are you Father's boyfriend, Triton? Is that why you're in girls' clothes?"

Quatre's head snapped to the side. "Amir! Don't interrupt. I realize you're curious about Triton and all his cross-dressing glory, but please, don't interrupt. Your mother and I raised you better."

Amir ducked his head, face flushing. "I'm sorry, Father . . ."

"Thank you for apologizing." Quatre sighed.

Triton swallowed, looking back at the boy in his side mirror. The small child was watching him, hungry for information. Triton sighed. He didn't even know the answer.

Quatre continued. "Triton, I wasn't expecting for Amir to be an issue with us, that's all."

Amir waited until he was sure that was the end, then jumped in. "You said 'us,' Father! Mother says that when anybody says 'us' then it's serious. So he is your boyfriend, isn't he?"

Triton shook his head. "No, I'm not, Amir."

"Why not?"

" . . ." Triton sighed again, looking at Quatre. "Because . . . because . . . I don't know." There. That was the truth.

"Do you want to be?"

Quatre could see that this was making Triton uncomfortable, so he stepped in. "Amir," he started gently, "please leave Triton alone. We're not together. Accept it. Your mother may be engaged, but that doesn't mean everyone has to be engaged."

"Okay, I guess . . . But you act like you're together! Are we there yet?"

Quatre sighed and shook his head as he parked the Python. "Yes. Triton and I need some study time together, so you'll need to play quietly. Go hack into something on my computer."

"Can I?!"

"No." Quatre smiled at the child as they all got out. "But Heero's around here somewhere, and I'm sure he'd like to introduce you to his fiancée. Would you like that?"

"Yes, Father! I miss Uncle Heero! Is he still grumpy?"

A chuckle. "As grumpy as ever. Speak of the devil . . ." Quatre's eyes were twinkling as he opened his classroom door. "Heero, there you are! I brought someone for you to visit with!"

Heero gave Quatre a suspicious look, then looked at Triton. "I know Triton."

"Uncle Hee-chan!!!!" Amir took off down the aisle, shrieking with joy, and threw himself at the Japanese man. Heero's eyes widened as he caught the child easily, then redoubled his glare at Quatre. "Quatre, omae o ko---"

Quatre laughed. "Come off it, Heero. He missed you. Why don't you introduce him to Sylvia?"

Heero muttered under his breath and stalked past the two men, but his eyes and hold on Amir were gentle.

Quatre laughed again. "He does love the boy. Now, we don't have much time left. Get your book out." And the studying began.

* * *

"Triton! Are you coming with us to Father's house?" Amir's yell across the campus turned a lot of heads, and Duo was rubbing his ear as Triton walked up to the small group. "Are you?"

"Amir, don't yell."

Amir ignored his father as he bounced in Duo's arms, grinning happily. "Are you? Uncle Duo and Uncle Hee-chan and Uncle Wufei and Aunt Sylvia are! I don't know where Uncle Trowa is, but he's kinda creepy anyway."

Triton looked at the group, four ex-Gundam pilots and one young woman. "Yes, I am. Your father is tutoring me."

"Why?"

"I missed a lot of class."

"Oh." During the course of the conversation, Amir had gone from Duo's arms to Quatre's, and from there to Wufei's before being handed back to Duo, where he had promptly been handed to Heero. He was currently nestled in Sylvia's grip, one hand petting her hair. He reached his arms out for Triton.

Triton looked around and got nods, so he gently took Amir from Sylvia and held him gingerly, almost afraid to touch him. So young . . . so innocent . . . The Latin man swallowed sharply at the pain the boy's innocence brought him, pain that was followed by the firm resolve to never let anything happen to this child. Amir started bouncing. Again.

"Are you really in the circus? Do you eat fire? Mother can eat fire! Mother can do a lot. She even beat Father up, twice!" Amir's eyes were large as he started relating the tale with much arm-waving and many sound effects, and Quatre flushed, occasionally stepping in to relate what had really happened. Triton merely smiled and listened carefully as the five other adults talked, occasionally glancing at Triton.

"All right, let's go. Heero, Duo and Wufei will meet us there. Sylvia, you're watching Amir because the last time we let Wufei watch him, it took a week to get the hair dye out. The last time Heero watched him, well . . . Well, let's just say that the ground still hasn't gotten over it. As for Duo . . ."

Sylvia laughed as she took the child from Triton's arms. "I don't think I want to know."

"Oi! That's not fair! No one got hurt!"

Everyone at least smiled as they walked to the parking lot. Quatre held the doors open for Sylvia and Triton, then got in and started the car. "Well, how was your day, Triton?"

"Uh, fine, thank you . . ."

"Sylvia?"

"I got to sleep until noon. It was great!"

"Amir?"

"Wow, I never knew Uncle Hee-chan knew so many bad words in Arabic, Father! He didn't know he was saying them in Arabic, though. I asked."

Quatre laughed out loud, then shook his head.

"Where'd he learn them?"

"Uhm . . ." Quatre wasn't about to admit his habit of cursing in bed to his son. "He asked the Maganacs what they said when they cursed." That was safe, and the partial truth.

"Oh." Amir was all questions during the ride, then bounced out of the car and around the house, trailed closely by Sylvia and her patient nature.

"This way," Quatre murmured. He led Triton upstairs this time, pushing open a door. The room was large, with three doors leading out of it, other than the one they'd entered through. "This will be your room for the weekend. The bedroom is the door to the right, the bathing room is the door to the left, and the door straight ahead leads to the balcony, as if it weren't obvious by the glass and curtains." He turned Triton around and kissed him without thinking, pulling the younger man into his arms.

Triton dropped his bags. He let Quatre push him into the room and onto a couch before raising his hands to push the older man away, but they ended up pulling Quatre closer. Quatre sighed and slid his hand up Triton's skirt without pause, rubbing the young man's inner thighs firmly. That drew faint gasps each time the youngest Winner went up far enough. Quatre trembled and ran his finger along the edge of Triton's underwear, daring to slide the tip of his finger under the hem when Triton arched his back and moved his legs farther apart. If the boy let him . . .

Triton snapped back to his senses with a startled shout of "No!" He pushed at Quatre in what was borderline panic, heart racing with fear as he was gripped with a sudden, short yet strong waking dream of James pinning him down and raping him.

Quatre threw himself onto the floor, banging the back of his head on the low table in front of the couch. He cursed in Arabic and rubbed the back of his head before sitting up and watching Triton carefully. "Triton?"

The young man in question was shaking, legs pulled tight against his chest with his arms holding them firmly in place as he rocked back and forth, tears rolling down his face. Faint sobs reached Quatre's ears.

"Oh, God. Triton . . . Triton, can you hear me?"

"It hurt," Triton whispered. "It hurt. It hurt." He chanted it softly, tears streaking his eye makeup.

Quatre lowered his voice. "What hurt, Triton?"

"James hurt. It hurt. It hurt. He hurt me. It hurt."

"All right. How did James hurt you, Triton?"

"He . . . he hurt me. He hurt me."

Quatre bit his lip until he tasted blood, then got up and looked around until he found a small enough comforter, draping it over Triton as best he could without touching the boy or getting very close. "All right. You're safe, Triton. I'm not going to hurt you. I went way too fast. I'm sorry. No one's going to hurt you again, Triton, no one. I won't let them. Do you want me to call Cathrine? Do you need your sister?"

"It hurt . . . Sister. Cathrine. I want Cathrine. Cathrine. Cathrine."

Quatre wiped the tears from his eyes and picked up the phone, dialing Triton's number. It rang four times before someone picked up.

"Bloom res---"

"Cathrine, it's Quatre. Triton freaked out, Cathrine. You need to talk to him."

"What? What happened? Put him on the phone right now!"

Quatre cringed at the sudden anger in Cathrine's voice and handed Triton the phone. "Triton, take the phone. It's Cathrine on the phone, Triton." For a moment it looked like Triton wouldn't do anything but rock and chant softly to himself, but Cathrine said something loud enough for him to hear and he jerked a bit, then reached for the phone. Quatre set it in the young man's outstretched hand. "I'll be outside when you're done. I'm sorry, Triton." He wiped at his eyes again and left the room, sliding down the wall and leaning his head back against it.

'You bloody fool,' he cursed himself. 'Look what you've done! You went ahead and touched him---God, you weren't even thinking! Damn you, Quatre!' He wiped at his eyes again and kept beating himself up mentally, and didn't notice when the door opened. A soft noise caught Quatre's attention and he looked up. Triton held out the phone. Quatre took it. "H, hello?"

"You scared him. You scared my little brother, you bastard." Cathrine took a deep breath. "All right. Let's start over. Triton was raped, Quatre Winner. From age five to fourteen, a member of the circus raped him. What you did scared him. Don't you dare scare him again. Think with your head, not your penis. Is that clear?"

"Y, yes, ma'am. I'm sorr---"

"You'd better be. Now, I got Triton as calmed down as I could without being there, and he doesn't want me to come over. You're going to behave, right?"

"Yes."

Cathrine sighed. "Fine. I can't do anything else. Goodbye." She hung up.

Quatre stood slowly and looked at Triton, then flushed and looked away. He silently hung the phone up, then turned and met haunted green eyes.

"Thank you for stopping," Triton murmured. "I need to be alone."

Quatre bit his lower lip and winced at the pain, but nodded and walked out of the room. He went to his own room and lay down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He should be downstairs saving Sylvia from the terror known as Amir and being a good host, but he couldn't find the strength to move. A while later he heard the door open, and was about to tell whoever it was to leave when Amir's voice rose.

"Father? Are you here?"

Quatre sighed. His son. His heir. "I'm in my bedroom, Amir."

"Oh." The young child pushed open the door and crawled onto the bed with Quatre, looking down at his father. "What's wrong, Father? It started to hurt, but I couldn't find you. What happened?"

Quatre attempted a smile. The boy had inherited his space heart. "I . . . I hurt Triton, Amir. I didn't mean to, but I did, and I feel awful." He wiped at his face.

Amir thought about this for a moment. Finally he curled up next to Quatre and cuddled. "Mother always says that when you do something bad, you should apologize, and if you still feel bad, a little loving helps a lot."

Quatre laughed softly and held his boy close. "Your mother is a wise woman, son. Wiser than I."

Amir shrugged. "She's Mother. Is Triton going to be all right, Father?"

"I don't know," Quatre admitted.

"Do you like Triton? Like, really like him?"

The older Arab's heart wrenched at the innocence of the question and asker before he nodded. "Yes, I really like Triton. I think . . . I think I'm in love with him."

"Does he love you back?" Amir lay his head on Quatre's chest and started tapping out his father's heartbeat with his small fingers.

"I don't know. He . . . he acts like he likes me sometimes, but sometimes he doesn't. I know he likes me up to a point, but Triton was hurt bad when he was a child, and love and trust don't come easy for him."

"Was his father bad to him?"

Yasmeen and Quatre had made sure that Amir knew what a pedophile was, and how bad it was to be one. They'd also made sure that Amir wasn't afraid to come to them if he was propositioned or molested. Quatre wasn't surprised at the question. "His parents died when he was six and his sister was ten. A man who worked with their circus was bad to him." He held his child close, vowing for the millionth time not to let anything happen to the young boy.

"Did he get in trouble, Father?"

"No, Amir. Triton didn't tell anyone until recently, I think. He got away."

Quatre could feel Amir tense, and knew his son was angry. "Well, if I ever find him, I'll tell Rashid and the Maguanacs and have them get him good!"

Quatre laughed and kissed Amir's forehead. "You do that."

"Are you feeling better yet, Father?" Amir smiled up at Quatre.

Quatre smiled back. "Yes, thank you. Are you hungry?"

"Oh, yes! Aunt Sylvia wouldn't let me eat my candy!"

That brought another laugh. "All right. Let's go get some food."

"You should bring Triton flowers," Amir solemnly told Quatre as they walked down the hall. "Mother says that flowers are good for telling someone how you feel about them."

Quatre smiled again. "I'll do that, Amir."

"Anna behilek**, Father."

"Anna behilek, Amir."

** "Anna behilek" is "I love you" in Arabic