Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Forgotten Dreams ❯ Chapter 12

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

Title: Forgotten Dreams



Title: Forgotten Dreams
Chapter: 12/?
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, I'm booooored." Duo flopped down on the couch. "There's nothing to do around here!" He buried his face in a pillow, waiting for Quatre's response.
A response he didn't get. Quatre continued to play the piano as rain pattered softly outside.
"Quatre?" Duo crawled off the couch and sat by the roaring fire.
Quatre didn't stop playing.
"Quuuuaaaaatreeee!"
No response. Duo got up and walked over to Quatre, leaning against the piano.
"Hey, Trowa, put your clothes back on!" Duo looked at the blond boy eagerly, but Quatre played on. "Uhm . . . Don't ignore me! C'mon, Quatre, please? Heero ignores me enough!" Duo sat next to Quatre on the bench and started to randomly hit keys. "Hullo! Earth to Quatre!"
Quatre let out a soft sigh and finished the piece, then sat with his hands in his lap, staring down at them. "Duo, I'm confused," he said softly.
Duo quit poking at keys and frowned. "About what, Quatre-baby?"
Quatre sighed again. "About Trowa. He's --- Oh, it's hard to explain. One moment he's almost friendly and holds my hand or lets me touch him, and the very next he won't even let me near him. At those times he won't talk to me, and doesn't believe anything good about him that I say." Quatre's lip trembled as he whispered, "I'm afraid he's suicidal. And I---" He stopped, embarrassed.
"Really want to jump his bones?" Duo's voice was soft.
"What?" Quatre had never heard that phrase before.
"Have sex with him?" Duo placed a comforting hand on Quatre's as the blond nodded. "You're a virgin?" Another nod. "Ever masturbated?"
"Have I ever what?" Quatre flushed.
"Masturbated. It's when you tou---"
"I know what it is," Quatre interrupted quickly. "Why do you ask?"
Duo rolled his eyes. "Silly boy, why do you think? It helps, trust me." He looked at the piano. "How do you play this thing?"
Quatre placed his fingers on the keyboard and Duo put his hands over them. Quatre slowly started the piece over.
"Duo, would you like to come to my birthday party? It's in three months, at my home."
Duo grinned. "Sure! Hey, do I get a harem?"
"Oh, Duo." Quatre lay his head on Duo's shoulder, and Duo put an arm around him.
"Hey, Quatre-baby, try to be happy. Whatever happened to Trowa wasn't your fault; it made him jumpy as hell, and he needs your help getting over it." Duo leaned over and gently kissed the corner of Quatre's mouth. "I'll leave being talented to you," he whispered in Quatre's ear, fingers gently caressing the back of Quatre's hand.
Quatre closed his eyes and bowed his head, not wanting to see the desire he knew was in Duo's eyes, desire that would be reflected in his own. Duo kissed his neck lightly, then got up, hands on Quatre's shoulders and kneading gently.
"We could go get drunk, but it probably wouldn't work."
Quatre smiled slightly and kissed the back of Duo's hand. "True. Or it would work, but we'd do something stupid, like have sex or get married."
Duo chuckled. "And wouldn't Heero and Trowa just love that?"
Quatre turned around and wrapped his arms around Duo's waist, laying his head on Duo's stomach. "They could run off and elope, then. Silence and silence." Duo's laugh rumbled through his stomach, and Quatre smiled. "That would take care of most of our problems."
Duo tilted Quatre's head up and kissed his forehead. "Maybe. But I'm going to leave now, before I seduce you."
Quatre let go and nodded. "And before I beg you to stay."
Duo smiled. "That would be bad." He walked to the door and paused. "I'm still bored."
"Go explore."
"Naw, did that. I think I'll find Heero and tell him he's a sex god." Duo opened the door. "Well, what d'ya know! Heero, you're a sex god, didja know that? Please don't hit me, it really hurts when you hit me, hey, that's my hair, ow! All right, all right, I'm coming, I'm coming . . ." The door shut, and Quatre was alone again.
Six days earlier he'd made Trowa breakfast and confessed most of his feelings for the tall boy. Trowa had taken it better than Quatre had had any right to hope for, but less than an hour later he'd turned around and told Quatre he didn't believe anything good Quatre had to say about him. Quatre had been trying ever since to show Trowa he was special to him in a thousand tiny ways; a rose, a compliment, a smile, anything he could think of to get his message though.
It took a month before Trowa responded to Quatre's courting.

* * *

"And you've been careful how much you touch him?"
Quatre made a face at his sister's image. "Iria, I've gone out of my way to not even look at him when he gets phobic like that! And he's so unpredictable!"
Iria frowned at him. "How so?"
"Well, a week ago he was perfectly fine with me near him, even touching him. He was even smiling a bit, too. The next day he left whenever I entered a room he was in and wouldn't talk to me, but by noon he wanted me to read to him while he worked on Heavyarms. Then he told me about his circus life, which I enjoyed because I got to learn more about him, but after dinner he told me point-blank to leave him alone. Two days later he's fine with me, but the day before yesterday he got jumpy again, and has been ever since."
"Huh. Basma says hello and to tie him up. There's more, but I'm not going to repeat it." Iria sighed and covered her face with one hand, a tired smile touching her lips.
Quatre snorted. "Coming from Basma, I'm not surprised. Tell her I love her, even if she is a psycho, rabid nymphomaniac."
Iria laughed and relayed the message. "She says 'That's Queen psycho, rabid nymphomaniac to you, Camel Boy.'"
Quatre chuckled. "At least the camels don't spit on me."
There was a shriek of indignation in the background, and a brief battle for the communit ensued. Iria won, a smug smile on her face.
"All right. I locked her out of the room. Now back to your problem, Quatre. It sounds to me like Trowa wants to get close to you, but he's afraid to for whatever reason, and we both know that reason. Have you come on to him at all?"
Quatre groaned and covered his eyes. "No, and that's a problem, too. I want to, I really want to. A random look, gesture, word, and I have to nearly physically restrain myself from jumping all over him. And he deliberately does things to turn me on, too."
"What does he do?"
"Well, lots of stuff. He'll bump into me in the nice, wide hallway, linger when he touches me, or get really close when we're talking. He gives me looks like he wants me to do something, then if I so much as smile at him for too long he hides from me for the rest of the night. It's gotten worse, too."
Iria leaned forward. "How so?"
"Yesterday I went to our room to tell him that dinner was ready, and he opened the door in nothing but a pair of tight jeans. I swear, they looked painted on. His hair and skin was damp like he'd taken a shower, but there were no towels or anything else that indicated he'd showered. He had a brush in his hand, and when I'd managed to tell him about dinner he turned and put it on his dresser, and Iria, I swear he wiggled his hips at me, and it wasn't my imagination!"
There was a thoughtful silence. Finally, "I think I may know why Trowa's acting like he is."
Quatre perked up. "Really? Why?"
"Now I'm not saying this is why; it's just my opinion, all right?" Iria shook her finger at him.
"Yes."
"Okay, here it is: I don't know the whole story, but from what you've told me Trowa was in a mercenary group most of his life, where he was molested by the men since a very young age until he was thirteen years old. As I see it, Trowa didn't have a choice; he had to have sex with the mercs, or else he'd get in trouble, and he'd have been too small to fight them off, if he even realized that what they were doing was wrong. Am I right so far?"
"Yes." Quatre got up and grabbed Abdul, then sat back down.
Iria smiled at that. "Good. Or bad, considering how you look at it. Continuing, I think that Trowa has gotten to the point where if someone shows even the slightest interest in him he expects to be taken advantage of, and the fact that you don't do anything confuses him."
"That sounds plausible." Quatre hugged Abdul.
"I'm not done yet. I don't think Trowa knows how to react to this, this inaction on your part. After all, you want him, and everyone else who's wanted him has taken him, so why don't you? I suspect that he's decided to make you do something, just so he has, in an odd way, control over the situation."
"So he knows what's going on." Quatre nodded. "He said that he could handle it if I wanted him, but not to toy with him. He's got really low self-esteem." There was a faint knock at the door and Quatre looked up. "Come in." He switched to Arabic as the door opened. "I've been working on that, but he's as stubborn as Father."
Trowa walked in and closed the door, leaning on it as he watched Quatre. Quatre smiled at him and he looked away.
Iria glanced behind him. "Who's there?"
"It's Trowa."
"Do you want me to get off?"
"Actually, I'd still like to talk. I've got another problem I need to figure out even before Trowa." Quatre leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up on the desk. Improper, yes, but he had larger worries.
Apparently Iria thought so, too, because she didn't comment on it. "At this rate, little brother, I could become a psychiatrist in no time. But go ahead."
"You know about Duo and I?"
"Your more-than-friends-less-than-lovers relationship? Yes. I hope you two have stopped."
"Oh, we have. Sort of."
"Sort of?"
Trowa walked to Quatre and glanced at the communit screen, then knelt beside him, laying his head on the blonde's leg. Quatre absently ran his fingers through Trowa's hair.
"Yes. The thing is, we're not in love with each other and we know it. Duo loves Heero and I love Trowa. We have no illusions about that. But get us alone together and it's a race to see which goes first: one of us, or our clothes." Quatre blushed slightly.
Trowa looked up at the mention of his name as Iria replied. "You can't keep your hands off of each other?"
Quatre gave Trowa a soft smile, hand resting on the brunette's shoulder. "Right. It's not conscious, either. We don't mean to come on top each other, we just . . . do."
Iria blinked slowly. "I'd say that you two are very close, and you take the frustration of having unrequited crushes out on each other. I wouldn't worry too much about it."
Trowa wiggled his way under the desk and between Quatre's legs. Quatre sat up and held Trowa lightly against him.
He switched back to the common language. "Well, thank you, Iria, but I need to go. I've got a beautiful young man here who's in need of some attention, so I'll call you later, all right?"
"All right. Goodbye, Quatre." Iria smiled and gave him a thumbs-up sign.
"Goodbye, Iria." Quatre pressed the disconnect button and smiled down at Trowa. "Yes?"
Trowa sighed softly and rested his head on Quatre's chest, arms wrapping around Quatre's waist. His expression softened, fingers taping out a rhythm on Quatre's lower back.
Quatre tilted his head to the side curiously. "What are you doing?"
"Listening."
"Oh? To what?" He lightly stroked Trowa's hair with one hand, the other around Trowa's shoulders.
"Your heart."
Quatre chuckled softly, then tilted Trowa's head up. "Would it be all right if I kissed your nose?"
Trowa gave him an odd look. "I suppose."
Quatre placed a gentle, brief kiss on the very tip of Trowa's nose, then rested his forehead against Trowa's. "I like this," he murmured.
"Like what?" Trowa murmured back.
"This. Just holding you, being with you."
"But, we're not doing anything."
Quatre chuckled softly again, running a finger down Trowa's cheek. "Oh, but we are. We're holding each other, and enjoying each other's company. What more could we do?"
"I though you wanted me." Trowa was genuinely confused.
"I do, but not always sexually. Sometimes I just want to hold you, like now. I enjoy your company." Quatre leaned down, resting his head in the crook of Trowa's neck.
"Your birthday's in two months."
Quatre nodded, breathing in deeply. Trowa smelled nice.
"How big is your family?"
Quatre sat up and counted on his fingers. "One, two . . . ten . . . twenty . . . twenty nine . . . thirty, including Father. And lots of servants."
Trowa just blinked at him.
Quatre smiled. It's all right. They're curious, but I won't let them get you. Arabians are also very touchy-feely, I must warn you."
Trowa nodded. "I'll manage."
Quatre smiled at him. "I know."