Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Forgotten Dreams ❯ Chapter 11

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Title: Forgotten Dreams



Title: Forgotten Dreams
Chapter: 11/?
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.



Quatre lay back on his bed and smiled, trying not to giggle. Giggling was girly, and Quatre was not girly. He curled up on his side, clutching a pillow to his chest.
'Rule one: Never, ever underestimate Trowa.' He laughed out loud, feeling almost giddy. After breakfast he'd walked Trowa to the taller boy's room, ignoring Trowa's sudden allergy to his touch. 'Well, saying that was a big step for him, and my confessions probably didn't help, either.' Quatre didn't blame Trowa for not wanting to be touched. 'Truth to tell, it's probably a good thing, too. I have self-control, but it's not endless.' He laughed again, then reached across the bed to the nightstand. Picking up the telephone on it, he dialed a number.
"Hello, Winner Enterprises, Iria---"
"Hi Iria!" Quatre chirped, lying on his stomach. "It's Quatre!"
"Oh! Hello!" There was a short pause, then Iria murmured, "Just a moment, love." Another pause, then Iria spoke again. "Well, that was close. Quatre! How have you been? Where are you? Are you okay? Tell me everything! I've missed you!"
Quatre laughed, flipping onto his back and looking up at the ceiling. "I've been good. Really good." 'Except for these bruises from flying off that motorcycle . . .' He chuckled. "And I'm at a safehouse right now. We ran into a little trouble, but everyone's okay. How have you all been? I've missed you. All twenty-nine of you." He laughed softly.
"Yes, and all twenty-nine of us have missed you. We've been so-so. Father's still upset, but that's to be expected. You seem happier than usual, Quatre, what's up?"
Quatre blushed. "Well, I met someone . . ."
"Oh?" Iria's voice was intrigued. "Really? Who are they?"
"A fellow pilot."
"When did you two meet? Is this pilot male or female?"
'Oh, no. She's going motherly on me.' Quatre smiled, though, happy to talk about his favorite subject. "We met about, oh, hmm, a month ago. It seems longer." He couldn't keep the warmth out of his voice.
"Uh-huh." Iria chuckled softly. "You really like this person, don't you?"
Quatre shifted and threw a pillow over his face, even though Iria couldn't see him. "We have stuff in common. We both play instruments." 'I should probably tell her Trowa's not a girl . . .'
"What does this person play?"
"The flute, and they're very good at it."
"You're evading my question. What gender is this person?"
"Uhhhm . . ." Quatre knew that Iria probably wouldn't mind that he was bisexual, but he was hesitant nonetheless.
Iria's voice was quiet. "This person is male, aren't they?"
". . . Yes . . ." 'If she gets mad I'm going to die.'
"Are you gay, Quatre?"
'Well, she doesn't sound mad . . .' "No, I'm not gay."
"Bisexual?"
"Yes. Is that bad?" 'I think I'm going to cry . . .'
Iria laughed, a warm and loving sound. "Quatre, dearest, approximately one-fourth of your sisters are either bisexual or lesbians. Do you really think I care? Are you happy with him?"
Quatre smiled softly. "We're . . . just friends."
"But you'd like to be more."
"Yes," Quatre whispered.
"What's his name? Is he nice?"
Quatre picked up a chibi plush camel doll and held it to him. "His name is Trowa, and he's very nice. Shy and rather quiet, but nice." 'Rather quiet? Do I sense an understatement here?'
"Oh? Trowa's a nice name. What's he like?"
"Oh, he's wonderful! He's --- he was molested as a child, so I'm going really slow with the relationship, but we figured out this morning that we're friends. I made him breakfast. He works as a clown, too."
Iria laughed. "You should hear yourself, little brother. Wait. You cooked him breakfast? You, who have never done one girly thing in your life, not counting the dress episode, cooked? Did he die?" Her voice held a note of teasing.
Quatre rolled his eyes. "Yes, I made him breakfast, and no, he didn't die. And the dress thing was your fault! You and the other twenty-eight!" He covered his face.
"Huh. Careful, history repeats itself. Was it his parents?"
"What? Oh. No, he was in a mercenary group when he was a child. He was the youngest." Quatre rolled over and glared at the camel.
"Is this the boy you used to dream about, by any chance?"
Quatre sighed and gave the camel doll a kiss on the head in apology for glaring at it. "Yes. We've . . . got a connection."
"Your heart?"
Quatre smiled. "Yes. Trowa's really wonderful, Iria. I really want you to meet him."
Another laugh. "Well, little brother, your birthday is in three months. Why don't you come home, and bring Trowa?"
"Duo will want to come, too, and he'll want to bring Heero." Quatre walked the camel along his bed, grinning. "Wufei, too."
"Are those the other three pilots?"
"Uh-huh." Quatre tied a bow around the camel's neck.
"Quatre?"
"Yes?" He tossed the camel up and caught it.
"Put the camel down and pay attention!" Quatre sat up sheepishly. "I swear, you and camels . . ."
"Sorry, Iria."
"Really, I wonder about you, sometimes. So, you'll come home for your birthday and bring Trowa? The other three boys are welcome to come, too. What do you say?"
"Sure. I'll have to ask, but I'm sure they'll want to come."
"Good." There was a voice in the background and Iria covered the phone as she answered. "All right, I'm back. That was Father, reminding me that I've got work to do. So I'll talk with you later, all right, sweetie?"
"Okay. Tell everyone I said hello and I love them, will you?"
"Done."
"And Iria?"
"Hmmm?"
"How did you know I was playing with the camel?"
Iria laughed. "Easy. You never pay attention when you're playing with it. Good bye, Quatre."
"Good bye, Iria." Quatre hung up the phone and grabbed the camel again. "I do to pay attention when I'm playing with Abdul! Hmph!" He took the ribbon off of Abdul's neck. "Trowa's probably showering, so I'll ask him later. I don't know about the other three---" A sudden image of Trowa in the shower came to mind, an image of Trowa naked, wet, and utterly masculine. Quatre's hormones kicked into overdrive and he gave a small cry, throwing himself off his bed and into the bathroom.
"Shitshitshit! Not the mental image I need right now!" He opened the shower door and turned the water on as cold as it would go, then stripped and stepped under the icy flow, hissing as it soaked him. "Ahhhhh! Cold! Cold!" Quatre stood there, shivering, until he got control of himself. 'Oh, my. That was sudden. And here I thought only Duo had those kinds of thoughts!' Quatre turned the hot water up and leaned his forehead against the wall. 'Oooooo . . . Heat. Good. Wouldn't want to get hypothermia, now, would I? But if it keeps me from doing what I want to do now . . .' Quatre turned around and slid down the wall, closing his eyes. "Trowa, Trowa, Trowa . . . I want you, Trowa, heart, mind, body and soul. I-I think I love you, I really do. We may have met only a month ago, but we've known each other for years." He stood up and turned off the shower. "And I have three months to prepare you for twenty-nine bound-to-be-curious-about-you sisters, sanity questionable with some, and one over-protective father who probably won't like you simply because I do. Or maybe I'm underestimating Father." Quatre got out of the shower and started drying off. "Of course, this is assuming you even want to go. Duo will, just to see if I have a harem, or to get one of his own. He'll drag Heero along, too. Wufei, I'm not sure about. Maybe."
Quatre wrapped the towel around his waist and walked out of the bathroom. He got dressed and opened his door, nearly tripping on Trowa, who was sitting cross-legged next to the door. He looked up at Quatre.
"You took a shower." He got up slowly.
Quatre flushed. "It was, ahh, a sudden decision." 'Ask him, Quatre! Ask!' "Uhm, Trowa, my birthday's in three months and Iria, my oldest sister, wants me to go home to celebrate and she invited you and the others, too." Quatre took a breath. 'There. A bit rushed, but there.'
"Iria," and the name was a little stressed, "wants me to come?"
Quatre clasped his hands behind his back and looked at the floor. Softly, "I want you to come, too. I'd really love for you to be there." He looked up. "You don't have to, if you don't want to."
Trowa leaned against the wall and looked down, crossing his arms over his chest. He stood that way for a long time, and Quatre had to remind himself to breathe.
"You'll need a present."
Quatre smiled and shook his head. "Oh, that's not necessary. Just having you there will be present enough."
Trowa looked to the side. "Stop."
Quatre frowned. "Stop what?"
"Lying."
Quatre blinked in surprise. "Lying? About what?"
"Everything. Why do you tell me you like me? What's there to like about me? Nothing, nothing at all. If you want my body, fine, I can handle that. But don't toy with me. Don't string me along, making me believe I might actually be worth something when we both know I'm not." Trowa looked back at Quatre, giving him a fierce look that bordered on a glare.
Quatre stepped back, shocked. 'What brought this on?!' "Trowa, I've never lied to you! I really do like you! And you're worth a lot to me. I care about you."
Trowa shook his head. "I don't believe you. No one cares about me, and why should they? I'm not worth caring about."
"Trowa, that's not true! Duo cares about you, Cathrine cares about you, I care about you. You're a wonderful pilot and the best flautist I know. You may not believe in yourself, but I do." Quatre took a step toward Trowa.
Trowa snorted. "You want my body."
Quatre nodded. "Yes, I do." He took another step until he was only two or three inches away from Trowa. "But I'm not going to take what you don't willingly give." He stepped a bit closer and took Trowa's left hand in both his own and brought it up to his face, laying his cheek in the palm as he looked up at Trowa. "I want your body, Trowa, but do you know what I want more?" Trowa shook his head minutely. Quatre smiled sweetly and stood on tiptoes to whisper in Trowa's ear, "Your heart." He let go of Trowa's hand and stepped back, still smiling. "I can live without sex. Allah, I've lived without it for fifteen years."
"Allah?"
'Ha! Subject change. This is good.' Quatre nodded. "Allah. Kind of like the Christian God. Except Muslim."
Trowa nodded, relaxing a bit. "Duo is hungry."
"What?" 'Where did that come from?'
"He's hungry. He told me."
Quatre shook his head. "Is he ever not hungry?"
Trowa shrugged.
"All right. I'll tell the servants to fix him something." Quatre turned and walked down the hall. Trowa followed him.
"You've never cooked?"
Quatre looked over his shoulder. "Before today? No."
"You did good."
Quatre flushed slightly. "Thank you."
Just then Duo came tearing around the corner, skidding to a halt right in front of Quatre.
"Quatre! I'm hungry! Is there any food in this place?" He clutched his stomach dramatically. "I'll die if I don't get any food!"
Quatre smiled. "Oh, I'm sorry, Duo. Breakfast is ready, but Trowa and ate it."
Duo's eyes widened. "Nooooo! Say it isn't so!" He clung to Quatre's arm.
"Oh, it is so. However," Quatre gently pried Duo off of his arm, "I can and will have the servants make more food."
"Yes! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" Duo danced around, humming.
Quatre shook his head and smiled a bit sadly. "Duo, you are so weird." He looked back at Trowa, only to find the tall boy gone. 'And I wish Trowa was as trusting as you . . .'