Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Forgotten Dreams ❯ Chapter 17

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

Title: Forgotten Dreams
Chapter: 17/?
Warnings: Yaoi. Sex, sex, sex! 4x3, 3+4 and 4x? (Haha! Now you have to read the chapter to find out! Pllllb! ;-P)
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.
Dedications: To everyone who has read this fic from the beginning, almost a year and a half ago, and to everyone who's waited the near half-year it's taken me to get this part out. I love you all!


"All right, girls, good night!" Quatre waved to his sisters and took Trowa's hand. "Thank you for the party, it was wonderful! Anna behilek!" He tugged Trowa into the house before the girls could break into another round of "We love you" and "Happy birthday," sighing with relief as the doors closed. "Well. We got away." He wrapped an arm around Trowa's waist as they walked to their room, smiling. "Did you enjoy yourself?"
"There were too many people, but . . . yes."
Quatre pushed his door open with a chuckle. "The amount of people couldn't be helped, love. But I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. Now, about this outfit of yours . . ." He shut the door, turned, and placed his hands flat on Trowa's chest, pushing the taller boy up against the door. Quatre knew Trowa would feel trapped. He wanted to test Trowa's trust in him.
Trowa's eyes widened slightly as Quatre moved him back. "What about it? You don't like it?" He nibbled his lip gently as his eyes searched Quatre's.
The blond shook his head as he brushed the veil aside and kissed Trowa's neck softly. "Oh, I love the outfit," he murmured, pressing one knee between Trowa's legs. "I just think it's in the wrong place."
"Wh-where should it be?" Trowa whispered in return, head tilting back in response to Quatre's lips on his neck..
Quatre moved his lips down Trowa's chest, sliding his hands around the slender waist to pull Trowa's hips against his. "Anywhere but on you," he murmured as he bit gently at the base of Trowa's throat.
Trowa sank down, shifting his weight to rest on Quatre's leg as a faint tremor ran through him. "Ohhhh . . ."
"Do you think that's a good idea, Trowa?" Quatre slid his hands down Trowa's pants and smiled when they encountered soft flesh, no underwear. This had possibilities, not to mention the super-charge it gave his hormones. He paused for a moment, enjoying the feel of Trowa's smooth skin under his hands and smiled.
A soft moan was all he got in reply as Trowa pressed his hips forward, muscles tightening under Quatre's hands. The young man lowered them both until Trowa was sitting with Quatre between his legs, arms wrapped around the blonde's neck. Quatre slid the veil off, kissing all over his beloved's face.
"Quatre . . ." Trowa squirmed as the Arab slid his silky trousers to mid-thigh.
"Yes?" Quatre slowly kissed his way down Trowa's chest, stopping at the Latin boy's stomach before moving up again and nuzzling Trowa's neck. "Should I stop?" he whispered.
Trowa stared up at the ceiling as he took deep breaths. "I . . . I don't know." He trembled, hands clenching and unclenching gently in his lover's hair.
"How do you feel?"
"What?"
"How does doing this make you feel?" Quatre sat back and looked at Trowa seriously. "If you don't want this, or aren't sure, then we shouldn't be doing it."
"I---" A knock at the door interrupted them.
"Go away, I'm busy!"
"How much do you love me?"
Quatre sighed. "What do you want?"
"How much do you love me?"
"Not enough to let you in, Basma."
"Under the threat of a long, slow and painful death, Mistress Altair dragged me from the sweet nectar of Pai and bid me fetch Master Trowa. Like, three minutes ago."
Two pairs of eyes widened.
"Why does she want Trowa?"
"Dunno."
"Liar."
"Can't tell. All I can say is he needs to get ready and Altair doesn't like to be kept waiting."
Quatre sighed and stood, followed by Trowa. He opened the door to meet a very frustrated, very unclothed Basma. She held up a formal tuxedo.
"She wants a formal dinner. Be a gentleman. Hurry."
Quatre blinked as Trowa blushed furiously and escaped into the bathroom with the tux. "You have no shame."
Basma crossed her arms over her chest. "Yeah, actually, I do. Altair didn't give me the time to dress. Can I, um, have a robe? A blanket?"
Quatre shook his head and sighed. "Come in." He retrieved a blanket and wrapped it around his sister's shoulders. "Now, why does Altair want to see Trowa? Is he in trouble?" Worry nagged at Quatre. Altair guarded her secrets viciously, and wouldn't hesitate to kill in order to keep them. Basma had said as much, once upon a time.
The girl sighed. "I'm sorry, Quatre. I can't tell you."
"Why not?"
"Altair would kill me. I'm serious, Quatre. She'd kill me. She says she will all the time, I know, but I also know when she really means it. And she really meant it this time. But . . . She won't hurt Trowa. That's all she said I could say."
"Why do you follow her orders? She's only a year older tha---"
Basma stood up and paced. "It's not that. It's far more complex than that. Altair and I, well . . . I'm the closest thing to a friend she's got. I love her, I admire her, I'd die for her. I know Altair better than anyone save herself. After Quat---"
Trowa entered the room, adjusting his suit. "I'm ready."
As Basma sighed softly, Quatre took his lover's hand and held him close, a faint ache starting in his chest. "May I come, too, Basma? Just to see him there?"
A sigh. "Fine. Now hurry! I want to get back to Pai."
Basma led them through the base, stopping in front of a door a few minutes later. Basma knocked three times, then they waited. Quatre gripped Trowa's hand and rubbed his chest. The ache had been getting steadily worse. It made him alternatively angry and sad.
'Is it Trowa? Is Altair going to hurt Trowa?' Quatre looked at the taller boy. 'No, not that . . . Who, then?' The door opened and Quatre blinked.
Altair smiled slightly and inclined her head, raven hair spilling over her shoulders from an intricate bun. She smoothed the front of her solid deep green gown, just the shade of Trowa's eyes, and then held the door open. All Quatre could see was darkness and candles. Lots of candles.
"Welcome. Basma, you may leave." Basma muttered something and walked off, then Altair turned her gaze to Quatre. "He'll be fine. Go back to your room."
Trowa turned to him and Quatre hugged the young man gently.
"Come back to me," he whispered.
"I will." Trowa brushed his fingers across Quatre's cheek and turned to Altair. "My lady."
Altair inclined her head again and offered her arm to Trowa, leading him into her room and shutting the door. Quatre stood forlornly in the hallway for a moment, then sighed and trudged back to his room.
'Great. My sister kidnapped my lover. My lover . . . Oh Allah, Trowa and I have never even been on a date and we're lovers . . . Not that the war has given us time, but still . . .' Quatre shut his door and leaned his forehead against it as guilt washed over him, followed by a firm resolve. 'All right. Starting tomorrow, I'll treat Trowa right. This is fixable. Let's see . . . we can have dinner, then maybe go see a concert. Or whatever Trowa wants. I can surprise him with it, too.' Quatre nodded to himself as there was a knock at the door. 'Who---'
"Q-Quatre? Quatre, it's Duo. Oh, God, please be there . . ."
Quatre's heart contracted at the pain in Duo's voice and he opened the door, emitting a startled gasp when Duo all but fell into his arms, trembling.
"Duo? Duo, what's wrong? What happened?" Quatre led his friend to the couch and sat on it, holding Duo close to him as the brunette knelt between his legs. "Oh, Duo . . ."
"God, Quatre, why do I bother? He's so cold, so uncaring . . . So off and on. He was upset when I blew you that kiss tonight, but I told him I didn't mean anything by it and he was fine, then a while later he comes to my room and starts in on everything I've done with you, and things I haven't, and he said the most horrible things, and, and . . ."
'Damn you, Heero,' Quatre thought as he tilted Duo's head up to look into once-clear blue-violet eyes that were clouded over with misery. "Mind games?" His gulped and nodded. Quatre bit back his anger before wrapping his arms more firmly around Duo and pressing their lips together softtly. He pulled away and brushed the other pilot's bangs out of his eyes. "Look, Duo. I know you love Heero, but is this worth it? Is the pain he puts you through worth the brief moments of affection he shows? I can't stand seeing you hurt like this, Duo. I care about you too much." Again the blond kissed his friend, sighing softly when strong arms wrapped around his waist and Duo returned the kiss. 'I should have known . . .' Quatre opened his mouth and Duo followed his lead, their tongues meeting gently as Quatre fumbled with the collar of Duo's outfit.
"Mmm . . ." Duo's hands weren't idle, either, as the two boys kissed. He ran them along Quatre's waist and untucked the pink shirt before sliding his hands under it and along Quatre's back. Quatre trembled and broke the kiss long enough to pull the black shirt over Duo's shoulders and his white shirt off of him, tossing it carelessly to the side. "Quatre . . ."
Quatre's only response was to pull Duo up and tug him toward the bedroom, where their pants were discarded and they fell gently onto the bed. Hands roamed bodies with passion normally banished to the deepest parts of their minds, but that was now free to spiral wildly, almost out of control. The two boys lost themselves in their desires, touching and kissing, giving no thought to what the morning might bring.
Later, after the whole fiasco with Duo was over, Quatre would wonder if Altair had purposefully set this night up, for Trowa to be away and for Duo to come to his room, hurting and in need of comfort and love. He would never get an answer, only a half smile before Altair went back to whatever she was doing.
"Quatre . . ." Duo's husky voice in his ear and hands pulling the blond against him brought Quatre out of the passion-induced haze he'd been in, and the blonde's large eyes got larger as it sunk in that he and Duo were in his bed and not wearing very much.
"Duo . . ." Quatre pulled back and looked at the boy beneath him, hands tracing over Duo's bare chest. 'He's so beautiful. Heero, do you know what you're missing here?' Duo's eyes opened, dark violet in the dim light of the room and Quatre kissed him again. "So beautiful," he murmured, mouth moving down to the chest he'd just admired, then moving gently to Duo's firm stomach.
Duo gasped as his hips rose off the bed, and Quatre would have given in completely to his desire and obliged him had a certain pair of trusting emerald eyes not flashed before his mind's eye. He rolled off of Duo.
"Quatre? What---" Duo sat up, long hair loose and draping over his shoulders. He reached for Quatre.
"No. Duo, please, no. I can't do this." The young man pulled away from his friend's touch, trembling.
"You didn't seem unable a moment ago. What happened? You don't want me?" There was an ache in Duo's voice that made Quatre want to throw all caution and every promise he'd made to Trowa and himself to the wind and make love to Duo.
'But I'll never forgive myself if I do, and I'll lose Trowa.' He sighed. "It's not that, Duo. I want you so much it's killing me."
"Then what?" Duo leaned against Quatre, biting his lower lip.
"Trowa. He's what. You've got to understand, Duo. I love Trowa. I don't want to hurt him, and I don't want to lose him." Quatre pulled Duo tight against him with one arm, the other holding Duo's hands as their foreheads touched. "He's been through enough; he doesn't need me running around on him. Please, understand . . ."
Duo sniffed and wiped his eyes, nodding. "I, I understand. I . . . don't want to go back to my room. I know Heero will be there, I just know it. I can't face him. Please, Quatre, let me stay? I'll be good, I promise. Don't make me go . . ."
The pain in his friend's voice made Quatre's heart ache. How could he hurt Duo even more by making him leave? Quatre leaned over and picked his pants off of the floor, sliding them on. The young Arab smiled at Duo and pulled the covers up, holding his friend close.
"Sleep, Duo. You need the rest."
Duo smiled and pressed a tender kiss on Quatre's lips before settling against the blond and closing his eyes.

* * *

The outside door opening made Quatre look up from his laptop, where he'd been going over some family business. Not that odd e-mails from Basma were really family business, but Basma's e-mails always cheered him up, and she made them look official so he could read them and claim he really was going over business. He looked at the clock, then at Duo, and felt a twinge in his heart. It was half past one, and Duo was sprawled on his stomach, head resting on Quatre's upper leg with his chestnut hair spread across the his naked back and falling over Quatre's legs. The mere fact that Duo and Quatre were shirtless and in such an intimate position was enough to get the Arab in trouble with his taller lover. Quatre cleared his throat as the bedroom door started to open.
"Trowa, Duo's here with me. It . . . looks bad." The door stopped, not even halfway open. "Heero said some very hurtful things to Duo and he needed some comfort; a friend. Nothing . . . happened." A lie; something had happened, something big. Quatre had nearly had sex with Duo.
There was a long pause as Quatre shut his computer down and waited for a response, then,"Is he asleep?"
"He fell asleep almost immediately after we finished talking." Quatre smoothed the bangs from Duo's face and pulled the covers down enough to make his pants visible. "I can wake him up and send him back to his room, if you want."
Trowa walked in slowly and went into the bathroom after taking a long look at the occupants of the bed. Quatre got up and followed him, watching from the doorway as Trowa took his tuxedo off.
"Should I make him leave?"
"I don't care."
Quatre worried his lower lip. "I was worried about you." 'Please don't be mad at me . . .'
"I was fine." Trowa splashed his face with water and looked at Quatre through the bathroom mirror as he toweled his face off. "What's wrong, Quatre?"
The young blond crossed over to his lover and touched Trowa's cheek gently. "I . . . I don't want you upset with me. I love you, Trowa. I would never do anything to hurt you. Not consciously, at least."
Trowa sighed softly and lowered his head, smiling slightly as Quatre held him close. "I'm not upset with you, Quatre. I'm just . . . thinking."
"Can you tell me what happened with Altair?"
"No. I'm sorry, Quatre. She said not to."
Quatre nodded and kissed Trowa gently, leading him to the bed. "Where do you want to sleep?"
Trowa lay down on one side of Duo. "He needs comfort. He'll like waking up to two people holding him."
Quatre smiled and kissed Trowa again before getting in on the other side of Duo, resting his arm across both young men. He and Trowa whispered goodnight to each other and Quatre was about to fall asleep when a thought crossed his mind, and he raised his head.
"Trowa?" Was he asleep?
"Mm?" Trowa opened his eyes and blinked at Quatre.
"How many of your nightmares were real? I know a lot of them were, but it just seems odd to me that you were fine, then started having one every night. Not that I mind; I got to hold you." Quatre brushed his fingers lightly across Trowa's arm as he spoke, not sure if he was being offensive or not.
Trowa bit his lip and looked down, his own fingers nervously plucking at the covers. "Well . . . about . . . two thirds?" Quatre raised an eyebrow. "Three-fourths?" Quatre smiled slightly. "About . . . half . . ." Trowa got a panicked look on his face and hurried on as Quatre opened his mouth. "There were nightmares, Quatre, really. Just . . . not as many as I made you think. But I swear, I was having nightmares, I was. It was just that, that I wanted you close to me physically without it being sexual, and I couldn't approach you. Then I had the first nightmare and you didn't leave and didn't take advantage of me, and you were so gentle and I wanted you to hold me again. So I . . . I made myself wake up and remember and you'd hold me all night and it felt so good that I didn't stop---"
Quatre leaned over Duo and cut Trowa off with a gentle kiss, then moved over the sleeping brunette so he was straddling Trowa's waist. He managed to do so without breaking their kiss, slipping his hands under Trowa's neck and tilting his lover's head up to better access his mouth. He broke the kiss but continued with small, soft kisses to Trowa's plush lips, making a game of seeing if he could break the kiss before Trowa could respond and breathing out a soft laugh. Quatre kissed slowly along Trowa's jaw to his ear, enjoying hearing the young man's ragged breaths in his own ear.
"Qu . . . Qua . . . Quatre . . ." Trowa licked his lips, the tip of his tongue touching Quatre's ear gently. "Please . . ."
"Mm? Please what, love?"
"This is . . . no place for . . . for this . . ."
Quatre laughed gently and sat straight, pulling Trowa with him and cradling his lover against his chest. "There isn't a better place, love."
"But Duo---"
"I have a couch." Trowa's arms were around his waist, forehead nestled in the crook of his neck. Quatre smoothed Trowa's hair, fingers dancing across the back of Trowa's neck. Trowa gasped and arched his neck back, arms tightening around Quatre's waist. Quatre was taken by surprise, wondering what had caused such a reaction. He trailed his fingers across Trowa's neck again, and again Trowa mewled softly, nuzzling Quatre's neck gently. Quatre chuckled softly. Trowa was getting highly aroused by this, by him just tickling the back of the young man's neck. "I never knew your neck was so sensitive, Trowa."
"Nnnnn . . ."
Quatre smiled again and leaned forward, gently licking the back of Trowa's neck. Trowa whined a little louder, hips tilting upward insistently. "I love you, Trowa," Quatre whispered. "I love you." He slid out of Trowa's grasp and off his lap, standing up and tugging gently at Trowa's hand.
Trowa resisted, shaking his head. "Quatre, no, I can't. Altair said . . ."
"Altair? What did Altair say?" The young noble knelt beside the bed and took both of Trowa's hands in his own, suddenly worried. "Trowa? What's wrong?"
There was an anguished look on Trowa's face as he answered. "I might . . . I . . . you know about the mercenaries, about what they did." Quatre nodded. "They weren't careful." Trowa looked away, ashamed.
"What do you mean?" Quatre was confused. "Even if they were, it wouldn't have mattered. You were a child, Trowa, it was going to hurt---"
"Damn it, no!" Quatre jumped, stung by the fierce tone in Trowa's voice. The unibanged boy slid until he was kneeling in front of Quatre, hands desperately clutching the Arab's. "I'm not talking about it hurting, Quatre. I'm talking about . . ." Trowa squeezed his eyes shut, tears falling down his cheeks. "I could be sick. I could have gotten you sick."
Quatre's blood ran cold as Trowa covered his face and sobbed quietly. "An STD," he murmured. Sexually transmitted diseases were rare, but they still popped up now and then. Quatre jerked himself out of his shock and wrapped his arms around Trowa, rocking him gently as he tried to think. "Shh, shh . . . Trowa, hush. Don't cry. Look, love, let's think this through. First, I'm not leaving. Don't shake your head at me, Trowa, I'm not leaving." Quatre kissed Trowa's forehead and gently wiped the tears from his lover's eyes. "Let's be rational. Did Doctor, what, S? Didn't he give you a complete medical check-up before the start of Operation Meteor?"
Trowa nodded. "But---"
"And wouldn't he have chosen another pilot if you were sick?"
Trowa snorted. "I'm a soldier. I'm expendable."
Quatre shook Trowa sharply, angry. "Don't you ever say anything like that again, Trowa! Not ever!" He crushed the brunette against him, giving him a bruising kiss, then pulled back and brushed the tears from Trowa's eyes again. "You are not expendable, Trowa. You're worth so much, to everyone. To me." Quatre pulled Trowa in for a more tender embrace, whispering in his ear. "I know you're scared, Trowa. I'm scared. But that doesn't mean I'm going to run from what I've worked so long and hard to get. We'll work through this, together. That's part of what being in love is about: going through everything, good and bad, together. And if Altair talked with you about it, then I'm betting she's made appointments for both of us to find out. Am I right?"
A nod. "In one week. Quatre, I'm so sorry---"
Quatre placed his fingers on Trowa's lips and smiled softly. "Don't apologize, Trowa. It's not your fault. We'll get checked out." He kissed the tip of Trowa's nose. "And remember, no matter what happens or what the results are, I love you. And I'm not going to leave you, so you can stop looking like I'm going to spread wings and fly away." Quatre stood and pulled Trowa with him. "Now, let's get some sleep. We've got a mission tomorrow. We'll need the rest." 'And if I'm on a mission, I won't have time to think that it may be my fault. We didn't use any protection last night . . .'
Trowa seemed incapable of speech as he let Quatre tuck him in, turning on his side as Quatre lay down, Duo still between them. The two boys lay awake for a long time, each wracked with guilt, but eventually both slept.

* * *

"Get up."
Quatre cracked one eye open and tightened his grip on Duo and Trowa. "Get out of my room."
"I'm not asking you again."
Quatre snorted. "You never asked me in the first place."
Altair dragged Quatre out of the bed and let him fall in a heap on the floor. She towered over him, one hand on her hip, the blankets in her other hand and her usual expression - calculating indifference - on her face. "Get up," she ordered, "and get ready. You, Trowa and Wufei have a mission today."
Quatre rolled his eyes. "Who are you, our contact?"
"Yes."
That caught Quatre by surprise and he stood slowly, looking over at Duo and Trowa. They were both watching him, Trowa sitting up and Duo lying on his side. He licked his lips and took the shirt Altair was holding out. "I can dress myself," he muttered as she handed him his pants.
"I dressed you until you were five, boy. Hurry."
"All right, all right. Why are you being so damned pushy, anyway? You're not my mother."
Altair struck with the swiftness of a cobra, jerking Quatre up to her face by his collar, his feet barely touching the floor. An animal snarl disfigured her face, eyes blazing with rage and pain. "Don't you dare," she snarled, shaking Quatre. "Don't you dare. You know nothing, Quatre Raberba Winner, nothing. You don't deserve to speak so, fool." Altair's Japanese had deteriorated to the point where the young woman was snarling mostly in Arabic, then tossed Quatre on the bed. She straddled his waist, pulling him up again to spit her words in his face. "You're just like Father, desecrating her memory when she died to give Father an---"
"Altair, no!" Basma burst into the room and launched herself onto Altair's back, rolling them both to the side. Altair struggled, cursing Basma, Quatre, their father and some woman whose name Quatre didn't quite catch, but Basma had her pinned and was jabbering at Altair in what sounded like Latin.
Altair suddenly went limp, eyes dull and unseeing as Basma cradled her older sister against her chest. All Basma's attention was centered on Altair, murmuring softly in the young woman's ear and rocking her gently. The three pilots were staring at both girls, none quite sure what had just happened, or why.
Basma glanced up and jerked her head toward the door. "Get ready," she murmured, stroking Altair's hair as she would a frightened child's. "We'll be out in a few minutes. Go, now."
Duo just wrapped the blanket around him and shuffled out when Quatre opened the door, not looking to either side. Trowa followed, holding his shirt, and Quatre took one last look at his sisters before leaving. Basma had Altair's head tilted up to hers and was giving her a gentle, chaste kiss, murmuring softly to the older woman.
"What happened?" Trowa wanted to know as he and Duo sat on the couch, tugging his turtleneck down. "Why did Altair do that?"
Quatre sat between his lover and Duo, looking only a little surprised when both boys leaned against him. He put an arm around each of them as he answered. "I don't know," he confessed. "I don't know who Altair was talking about, either. I don't have a mother." Trowa shifted slightly, biting his lip gently.
"Everyone has a mother," he murmured.
Quatre shrugged and kissed the top of Trowa's head, then Duo's. "I guess," he said, "but I never knew mine. Father never speaks of her. She was probably some woman he married just to get an heir. Thirtieth time's a charm, ne?" There was a lot of bitterness in Quatre's voice, and Trowa shifted again but stayed silent. "I think Basma knows Altair the best. She's been Altair's shadow since before I can remember. She'll help Altair with whatever's wrong." 'I hope . . .' Quatre looked down at the two young men curled up against him and chuckled. "I should really start my own harem. You're both so beautiful."
Two sets of eyes raised to him, amused blue-violet and faintly worried emerald. "But . . . that's more than one---"
Quatre smiled and kissed Trowa gently on the cheek. He'd been aiming for the brunette's lips, but Trowa had turned his head. "Don't worry, Trowa, I'm not starting a harem. But if I did, rest assured that you would be my favorite." He smiled, and they rested together for a few minutes before the bedroom door opened again.
Altair stood in the doorway, all her masks and defenses back in place. She didn't look at Quatre, but spoke to Trowa. "I'm your contact. We're meeting in twelve hours at the L3 First Spaceport. Don't look for me; I'll find you." She blinked once. "I'll explain everything once we're safe. Go now. Maxwell, stay."
Trowa and Quatre got up and gathered what they would need, hurrying to the hidden hanger. Wufei was already there, talking on a cell phone.
"I can't. Don't ask me again. Look - no, that's not - Damn it, would you listen to me for once? If I could make it, I would. You know that. I want to see you as much as you want to see me. I'll finish as quickly as I can, but I can't rush it. You know that, too. Please?" Wufei sighed, his back still to the other two pilots. "I'll make it up to you. Please, Relena, I don't want to hang up with you mad at me . . . All right. I'll see you soon. I'll be thinking of you." He hung up and sighed deeply.
Quatre exchanged shocked glances with Trowa, then cleared his throat. "Good morning, Wufei. Is everything set to go?" He smiled as the Chinese boy whipped around. 'Seems Duo was right about Wufei having a "thing" for Relena. I wonder how long it's been going on?' Quatre didn't pry. He doubted Wufei wanted he or Trowa to know. But still, he wondered how they had gotten together, how they could even stand each other.
"Ah . . . yes. The Gundams will be delivered to us." Wufei shifted and looked down at the phone in his hands. He seemed about to say something, but was obviously uncomfortable.
"Let's go," Quatre suggested, hoping to ease some of the other boy's discomfort. Wufei's affairs weren't his business. He just hoped Wufei knew what he was doing.
Wufei nodded and they left, driving the half-hour to the spaceport in silence. Wufei was brooding silently, Trowa was quiet as usual, and Quatre was feeling too guilty about the previous night to make conversation. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Duo's beautiful face, felt his smooth skin, heard Duo whispering his name softly. Thoughts of what could have happened troubled him, and Quatre was torn between relief that he and Duo hadn't had sex, and regret.
'Damn it, how could I have done that? And why do I wish we hadn't stopped . . . I love Trowa, right?' Quatre glanced to the side, watching Trowa drive. Green eyes glanced at him and full lips curved slightly. Quatre looked down. 'Right. There's no doubt about that. So why can't I keep away from Duo? Sure, we made out a few times . . . all right, a lot . . . but . . . but . . . We both knew it didn't mean anything. Duo wanted Heero, and still does, and it was just an outlet for hormones and the stress of the war. But now I have Trowa, so why do I still want Duo?' Quatre rubbed his eyes. 'Concentrate on Trowa. Trowa is all that matters.' He leaned over to whisper in Trowa's ear, "If we have time to go out for dinner, would you like to? Just the two of us."
Another slight smile graced Trowa's lips as he nodded. "I'd like that." He pulled into the spaceport parking lot and parked, then all three boys got out.
"We're riding first class. We're supposed to be on vacation." Wufei handed Trowa and Quatre their tickets as they walked inside the building. "Amir Harville, Dominique Bonnepart and Shung Lao. You two are sharing a room; I have my own. It's a twelve hour flight. We have a half hour margin of error."
"Altair's cutting it pretty close. Flight two-oh-eight . . . there. Boarding now, what a surprise." Quatre looked around. "Baggage?"
"It will be delivered to---" Wufei trailed off and broke from the group, striding quickly over a dark blonde girl standing in line ahead of them. Quatre and Trowa exchanged glanced as the two conversed.
"Who---"
"That's Relena." As if on cue, Wufei gestured to Trowa and Quatre and Relena turned, a slightly pouty frown on her face. Quatre smiled politely at her, and she turned back to Wufei. The young man touched Relena's face gently before walking back to his companions, his face devoid of any emotion.
"Come on," the Chinese boy muttered as they gave their tickets to the collector. "Hurry."
Quatre raised an eyebrow and watched as Wufei's gaze followed Relena as she boarded the shuttle ahead of them, a familiar, hungry look in his eyes. Desire. The blond smiled and thanked the flight attendant when she showed he and Trowa to their cabin, then turned to his lover.
"What do you want to bet they lock themselves in a room for the flight?" He locked the door before following Trowa to the bed.
Trowa's mouth twitched as he sat on the bed. "We can't bet if we both agree about it."
"True." Quatre leaned over Trowa, kissing his neck. "I love you," he whispered.
Trowa sighed softly and leaned back, staring at the ceiling as Quatre placed soft kisses all over his face. "I, I know." He shifted and covered his chest when Quatre tried to pull his shirt up. "No, Quatre---"
"Trowa, I see it like this," Quatre interrupted. "You're worried that I could get sick if we have sex. I happen to know that there are other ways to be intimate without the risk sex brings with it. The young man deftly unzipped Trowa's pants, silencing any protests with a finger to the brunette's lips. "Shh, shh . . . Let me do this, Trowa, please?"
After a brief moment of hesitation Trowa lay back and looked to the side with a nervous swallow. Quatre moved off of him long enough to pull Trowa's shoes and pants off, then he leaned forward and lightly kissed his lover's chest as one hand slid down and gently brushed over Trowa's penis. Trowa drew his breath in sharply and arched his back, then struggled out of his shirt and covered his face while Quatre teased him. It wasn't long before the brunette was writhing beneath his blond lover, raising his hips to Quatre's touch and crying out wordless pleas for release.
Quatre groaned softly and covered Trowa's mouth briefly. He pulled away before Trowa could protest the kiss, moving down to give attention to Trowa's neck. The young blond sucked and nibbled gently, alternating between Trowa's neck and his chest, prompted by Trowa's cries to moved his hand faster. Quatre stroked Trowa's hard flesh with a firm and loving touch, watching with wonder as Trowa shuddered once, then mewled quietly as he came. The Arab young man glanced down at his hand and was moving to wipe it off on the covers when Trowa caught it. Intent, if a little hazy, emerald eyes watched him as Trowa licked his lips. Quatre's breath caught in his throat and he moaned when Trowa started to slowly lick his hand clean, eyes never leaving the blonde's face.
"Oh, Trowa . . ." The brunette didn't say anything, only flipped them over so that Quatre was on the bottom. He knelt on the floor, hands working gracefully at Quatre's pants. "Trowa . . . you don't---"
"I want to," Trowa interrupted quietly, pulling Quatre's pants and boxers to his ankles. "There's less risk if I do this." He silenced Quatre's protests by touching the tip of his tongue to the top of Quatre's erection and pressing down gently.
Quatre moaned and thrust his hips up as Trowa took the head of his arousal into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and them worming it at the slit. The blond gasped and struggled to sit up, staring down at his lover. The sight of Trowa's head moving up and down on his length, taking more and more of Quatre into his mouth, excited the blond even more. Quatre gently slid one hand through Trowa's hair as the other clenched the sheets.
"Oh, God, Trowa . . . I love you. I love you." The noble's breathless whispers were ignored as Trowa suddenly took all of Quatre into his mouth, which made Quatre cry out. 'Trowa can do that? And do it so well . . . Oh God, I think I'm going to faint . . .' "Nnnnn . . . Trowa . . . T-Trowa!" The Arab almost doubled over as his orgasm washed over him, leaving tiny pinpricks of light dancing before his eyes.
Trowa raised his head enough to swallow, licked his lips, then leaned down and gently licked the semen of off Quatre's now-limp penis before looking up at his lover. His beautiful eyes were a little wide, searching Quatre's as if for reassurance that he had done something good. Quatre leaned forward and rested his weight against Trowa as he fumbled with his shoes, sliding them, his pants and his boxers off. He tossed them aside and started unbuttoning his shirt, smiling into his lover's chest when Trowa's hands covered his own, helping him. Together they rid Quatre of his shirt and vest, then Quatre slid to the floor and lay on his side, sliding one leg between Trowa's as the brunette rested his head on the young man's shoulder and looked up at him.
Quatre smiled at Trowa and trailed a finger down the side of his face, tilting his chin up. "You're beautiful," he whispered. "You know that, don't you?"
Trowa pulled his chin out of Quatre's grasp and looked to the side. "No. I don't think I'm beautiful."
"Why is that?" Quatre was well aware that he and Trowa needed to talk about their relationship, and now was as good a time as ever.
Trowa shifted uncomfortably. "Well . . . I'm . . . I don't know. I don't know a lot of things any more. Five months ago, I wasn't expecting to be here today. I never thought I'd meet --- find someone like you, and I never thought I'd ever let someone have me, and enjoy it." Trowa's voice lowered until Quatre could barely hear his next words. "Least of all you."
"But things change," Quatre remarked. "And the question is, do you like the changes?"
There was a moment of silence. "I'm . . . not sure. I mean, I like it when we . . . when we're intimate," and Quatre smiled slightly when Trowa blushed, "but everything I've ever learned tells me that it's wrong and I shouldn't do it. Everything's changed so fast, even though I've had time to adjust."
"Are we going too fast?" Quatre's brow furrowed. "I want you to set the pace of this relationship, Trowa. There's a lot of stuff you need to work through, and I don't want to rush you. Push you so you do get over it, but not rush you."
"Well . . . you didn't throw me on the bed and ravish me, so no, we're not going too fast." Trowa smiled slightly as Quatre chuckled. "You listen, too, and don't judge me. When I told you about the mercenaries that time in the gardens, you were upset at them, not me. You've never told me that it was my fault, or that I was a victim." Trowa frowned and looked up at Quatre. "You've never told me that I'm a victim." He said it wonderingly, as if it had just occurred to him. "You've never let me feel sorry for myself, and you've pushed me to make my own decisions and stand up for myself. I don't think you've ever shown me pity, either. Quatre, why?"
Quatre sighed. "Why? Why? Why should I? What's the point of pitying you, Trowa? Don't get me wrong, now, I am sorry you were molested. I just don't see the point of making you a helpless victim. I want you to need me, yes, but I want you to be able to live without me sometimes, too. That's why I push you to make your own decisions. I want us to disagree at times. That means you're thinking for yourself, and not letting me rule your life." Quatre gently kissed Trowa's cheek. "I want Trowa, not a servant. Do you understand?"
"I think so, but you want us to fight?"
The blond started laughing, shaking his head as he hugged Trowa. "Oh, Trowa, I didn't mean it like that. I don't want to have knock-down, drag-out fights. I don't want us to yell and scream, or slam doors, or go to bed angry with each other. No. But when we go out for dinner, or a movie, or whatever, and you want to do one thing while I want to do another, I want you to say so. Please don't go along with whatever I say just to avoid an argument. You're allowed to disagree with me, you know."
Trowa was silent, then got to his knees. Quatre watched as his lover climbed onto the bed and lay on his stomach with his head hanging over the side. The blond leaned back and bent one knee, resting his arm on it. He leaned his head to the side and rested it against Trowa's cheek while Trowa draped his arms loosely around Quatre's neck. Quatre raised one hand and idly pet Trowa's hair.
The two young men rested that way for a while, not talking and not needing to, until Quatre's rump started to go numb. He made a face and shifted, then stood slowly as the door beeped. Quatre rolled his eyes and ran the tips of his fingers gently down Trowa's cheek before grabbing a robe and belting it tightly, walking out of the bedroom and to the main door, opening it.
A young child wearing a stewardess outfit smiled up at him. "Good day, sir. May I get you anything to eat or drink?" Her voice sounded adult but for a slight lisp, and when Quatre looked, her chest curved faintly.
His eyes widened as he looked down at her. She couldn't have been more than four foot ten. "Uhm . . . well, I . . ."
Blue eyes narrowed. "Watch it, boy, I know where you sleep."
"What?" Quatre's eyes widened yet again and he took half a step back. "Ma'am, I don't believe we've ever---"
"Met?" She laughed, a high and tinkling sound, then tapped her nametag. Quatre glanced at it. Pari Winner. "I know, I don't know half of our sisters, either." She took out a pad of paper and a pen. "Get lots of stuff; I work commission." Pari winked.
"I'm sorry, Pari. I, uhm, orange juice would be fine . . . a couple bowls of strawberries, too . . ." Quatre's eyes widened for the third time as Altair's comments the previous day came back, comments about Rashid and Pari. He almost choked at mental images of his friend and small sister having sex. Rashid was so big, and Pari so tiny . . . Pari's laughter brought him out of his shock.
"Ah, you know about Rashid and I." The cherubic child's face scrunched up in a smile as Quatre realized he was blushing, mouth hanging open. "Anyway, what else do you want? Don't think about it, Quatre. I've got him wrapped around my little finger, and everything's all right."
Quatre shook his head. "No, that's enough. Orange juice and strawberries." The young child-woman chirped an affirmative and skipped off, leaving Quatre still standing, dumbfounded, in the doorway. Rashid and Pari . . . That gave Quatre an uneasy feeling as he walked back to Trowa.
"Who was that?" Trowa was sitting up, legs hanging off the side of the bed.
"Pari. All four feet and ten inches of her." Quatre stood between Trowa's legs and Trowa rested his head against Quatre's chest.
"She's that small?" Quatre could feel Trowa frown. "But Altair mentioned that she and Rashid---" Again the door beeped, and again Quatre answered it.
"It's my break. Can I spend it with you?"
Quatre blinked and took the tray Pari held up, stepping out of the way. Pari seemed intent on spending her break with them, whether they wanted her to or not. "Ah, all right. That was fast."
"I ran."
The blond nudged his sister aside and looked into the bedroom. "Love, Pari's spending her break with us." Trowa gave him a quizzical look and Quatre shrugged, indicating his helplessness about the situation. "We'll be out here if you want to join us, and I got you some strawberries." The young noble chuckled at the nonchalantly hurried way Trowa donned a robe and tied the belt, then headed straight for the two bowls Quatre set on the coffee table.
"Hey! Save some for me!" Pari's small hand shot out and snatched a few strawberries before Trowa could eat them all, while Quatre sat back and watched them with a smile. "Quatre, your boyfriend is hoarding all the strawberries."
Quatre nodded as a plucked a piece of the fruit out of Trowa's hands and offered it to the clown. "They're his berries." Trowa delicately nibbled on the strawberry, then gently bit the tip of Quatre's finger as he finished it. Quatre was spellbound.
"Doesn't mean he can't share," Pari muttered, then brightened and swung her legs merrily. "Sharing is a very good thing," she recited, her slight lisp thickening. "It makes friends and solves problems." She giggled as Quatre and Trowa just looked at her, raising the back of her hand to girlishly cover her mouth. "That's what Pari-chan learned in kindergarten."
"Pari-chan hasn't been in kindergarten for about twenty-five years," Quatre pointed out.
"Twenty-three years, actually," Pari corrected. "I'm not that old. Just twenty-eight."
"It's old at fifteen," Quatre objected.
"We probably won't live to twenty-eight anyway, so why talk about it?"
Quatre and Pari both turned to Trowa, then glanced at each other. Quatre was the first to recover, and took Trowa's hand. "Tro---"
"Dominique," Trowa reminded him.
"Whatever. Dominique, that's what hope is for. That's why we're fighting. We want to live to twenty-eight, to forty, and on."
"We," and here Trowa indicated himself and Quatre, "may not anyway."
"Can I smack him, Quatre? Please?" Pari got up and moved to Trowa's lap, curling up there and laying her head on his shoulder. "Look, Domi-whatever, Quatre's boyfriend, you've got to have hope. You need hope for everything, because if you go through life expecting to fail at everything, that's exactly what you'll do. I know, because I've had to live with being this small since I was eight. I know how it is to wonder why you were ever born, and what use it is for you to even be around." She smiled, attempting to lighten the mood. "Of course, being small is awesome when Altair needs your help so much you can make her actually ask for it. I can squeeze into spaces no regular-sized adult ever could! But that woman is too proud, I swear. Not like Basma. Basma knows her limits and asks for help only when she knows she needs it. Altair just orders people to do what she wants when she can't do it herself. Ah, well." The small woman shrugged. "I stay away from Altair. She's got issues. Big ones."
Quatre nodded in agreement, and the three talked for a few minutes longer before Pari had to get back to work. She skipped out, telling them she'd be back with fresh sheets.
"So don't be in any compromising positions!"
"We won't be," Quatre promised as the door slid shut. He looked at Trowa, who was stretching on the floor. "What are you doing?"
"Stretching. I need to stay in shape for the circus."
"Ah. Do it naked?" Hope tinged Quatre's voice.
"We'd end up in a compromising position, and you promised Pari."
"Damn." Quatre sat and started imitating what Trowa was doing. I wonder if we're going to see Wufei at all during this flight."
"Probably not." Trowa stood and extended his right leg back and up, grasping his ankle with both hands and pulling until his foot touched the top of his head. Quatre didn't even try. "He seemed pretty intent on getting Relena alone. I think he'll show up right before we dock and drag us out."
Quatre smiled. "Probably. How long do you think they've been together?"
The young man thought for a moment as he switched legs. "Not long. But I'm no judge." He sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm not good at conversation."
"That's all right." Quatre got up when the door beeped and opened it. Trowa apparently decided that the temptation of strawberries was too great and sat again, taking two.
Pari bustled inside, the blankets in her arms obscuring her head. "Point me to the bedroom, please. I can't see." She continued muttering about her inability to see as Quatre guided her to the bedroom. The blond was sitting again when there was a startled yelp. "Ewwwww! It's sticky! Quatre Raberba Winner!"
Trowa choked on a strawberry and Quatre covered his eyes and a laugh. Pari appeared in the doorway with a red face.
"Quatre! That's disgusting!" She walked over and wiped her hand on Quatre's side. "Ew, I put my hand right in it, too . . ."
Quatre doubled over with silent laughter. "At least . . . heh, at least it . . . it wasn't . . . on the . . . heh, the floor, heh . . ."
The small woman stuck a finger in each ear. "Lalala! I can't hear you! Lalala!"
"Or the wall," Trowa murmured when she put her hands down, which set Quatre off again. Pari shrieked an obscenity or two and rushed back into the bedroom, appearing again moments later, pushing the mass of rolled-up blankets and sheets with her foot.
"Your boyfriend is as sick as you," she muttered on her way out.
"Thank you," Trowa and Quatre said in unison, and Pari snorted as the door shut.
Quatre turned and pulled Trowa close to him, still laughing softly.
"That was embarrassing," Trowa commented, face a little flushed.
"True, but it was funny."
"Pari's a little traumatized."
"Pari will get over it." Quatre tilted his head up at Trowa and smiled. "So, what do we do with ourselves for the rest of the trip, hm? We're not going to see Wufei for a while." Trowa shrugged, so Quatre sat him down and they talked about their pasts, their futures, and anything else that came to mind.
A half an hour before they landed Wufei showed up and briefed them on the mission. It would be relatively simple: Trowa and Altair would infiltrate the OZ base and set bombs, and Quatre and Wufei would be their lookouts and cover while they escaped. None of the boys were quite sure what Altair's part was, but the mission would go easier with her assistance. Quatre found it amusing that Wufei referred to it as "assistance" rather than "help."
"So, she said she'd find us. Where is she?" Quatre peered around, then stood on his toes. Everyone was still taller than he was and he narrowed his eyes.
"She's probably late," Wufei snorted, but he wasn't looking for Altair. His gaze followed Relena as she waited for her luggage.
Quatre rolled his eyes. "Altair is never late. Her ghost would come and get us."
Trowa smiled slightly before raising an eyebrow. "Is that her?"
The young noble turned as a woman in an OZ uniform walked up to them. She looked like Altair, but her eyes were brown and her manner was . . . more human. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked them over, then smiled. Her teeth were very sharp.
'And just how did she get here quick enough to change? Maybe she did it on the flight over. But I'm starting to think my sister is a demi-god.'
"Mr.'s Bonnepart, Harville and Shung?" Quatre nodded. "Good. I'm Sergeant McKayla of the OZ Space Military. I've been sent by my superiors to personally welcome you to L3 and to be your guide during your stay." She half-bowed to Quatre and smirked. "Rank certainly has its privileges, Mr. Harvlle. Please, come with me." She turned and started off, which left the others no choice but to follow.
"So . . . what sort of entertainment facilities does L3 have?" Quatre frowned a bit as he looked up at Altair. She seemed taller. A glance down told him that her boots were heeled. Go figure.
"Oh, we've quite a variety of things to choose from, to fit most any way of life. Carnivals, vid-movies, restaurants, and right now there's even a circus you can go to." She held open the door of her green Mazda and continued speaking as Quatre and Trowa got in. Wufei took the front seat. "As I said, a lot to chose from. But for now, let's get you to your hotel. I'm sure you're tired after your trip. Ten hours, was it?"
"Ah, no. Twelve." Quatre looked around at the passing scenery. This part of the colony to looked very similar to Earth, until one looked up and saw the enclosed "sky."
"Then you must be even more tired than a ten-hour trip would make you. Tell me, have any of you been to L3 before?" Brown eyes rose to look at Quatre and Trowa, nothing but polite curiosity in them.
Quatre and Wufei shook their heads, but Trowa nodded. "I worked here for a while about a year ago."
"Oh, so you're somewhat familiar with the colony?"
"Not this one." Trowa and Altair talked until they reached a fancy hotel.
Quatre's sister was helpful and polite as they checked in and made their way to their room. However, as soon as she'd prowled around the sprawling three-bedroom suite, no doubt looking for bugs or really tiny camers or other such things that only someone as paranoid as Altair would think to look for, the façade dropped and she turned to the three pilots.
"Friday morning as oh-two-hundred I'll be here to get Trowa. You have one day to be tourists before we take the base out. Quatre, Wufei, you provide lookout and cover for Trowa and I. You have one day after the mission to stay so as not to arouse suspicion. Clear?"
Quatre and the others nodded and then Altair left and after setting their luggage in their rooms they decided to separate and meet back at the hotel at midnight. Wufei wandered off on his own while Trowa and Quatre stayed in the room for a while.
Trowa was reading on the couch, legs tucked under him, when Quatre leaned over and draped his arms around his lover's neck.
"Well, love," he murmured as he nestled his chin in the crook of Trowa's neck, "what shall we do?" Quatre let his hands wander over Trowa's chest and stomach, kissing the brown-haired boy's neck lightly.
Trowa sighed and tilted his head to the side as he marked his place and closed the book. "That dinner you were talking about sounds good."
Quatre nodded and kissed Trowa's cheek. "I can show you off to everybody." He stood and took Trowa's hand, and they went into their room to get changed. A half an hour and several hickeys later, Trowa was in a snug, dark green cotton turtleneck with black slacks and shoes. Quatre wore a grey shirt under a darker grey suit with a tie that matched Trowa's shirt.
"I look homosexual," Trowa remarked as he looked himself in the mirror hanging on the bathroom door.
"You are, love." Quatre wrapped his arms around Trowa's waist and smiled at their reflections. "Therefore you always look homosexual."
"But now it's blatant."
"But you look wonderful."
"People are going to think you're gay, though."
The young blond laughed and drew Trowa toward the door. "I don't care. Let them all think what they will; as long as I produce an heir, everything's all right. Are you ready?"
"Mm." Trowa sounded slightly annoyed, but he let Quatre lead him through the hotel and out the door, their arms linked.
Trowa didn't show it if his outfit made him uncomfortable, or if it was uncomfortable for everyone who passed them to see that he and Quatre were obviously a couple. He just let Quatre pull him around, smiling slightly and allowing Quatre to make all the decisions.
"Does Italian sound good?" Trowa just shrugged. "Their special dessert is strawberry swirl cheesecake."
"Let's go," Trowa said immediatly. Quatre laughed as he was nearly dragged inside the building, and he was still chuckling as they were seated. "What?"
"You," he chuckled, reaching across the table to take Trowa's hand and hurrying on at his lover's offended look. "No, it's not bad. It's cute."
Both eyebrows rose. "Cute?"
Knee-deep in trouble and sinking fast, Quatre tried to restore his composure and placate Trowa. "I'm not making fun of you, or your love of strawberries. I think it's wonderful." He kissed the back of Trowa's hand affectionately, but Trowa didn't look convinced.
"And cute."
The blond fought the urge to roll his eyes, dropping the clown's hand and sitting back, instead. "All right. You're not cute. Not at all. I just like to see you enthusiastic about something." He looked down at his menu. "What would you like?"
"I can be enthusiastic," Trowa muttered as he picked up his own menu. "The fettuccini Alfredo looks good."
"So does the lasagna. Shall we get both?" Trowa nodded, and Quatre motioned to a waitress.
"She's not another sister, is she?"
"No, thank goodness. Though I wouldn't be surprised."
The waitress smiled at them and flipped her golden-brown braid over her shoulder. "Good evening. My name is Shiloh and I'll be your waitress this evening. Are you ready to order?" She didn't hold still, but shifted minutely and bobbed her head a bit from side to side, as if moving to music only she could hear.
"Yes, thank you. Dominique?"
"I'd like the fettuccini Alfredo with a bottle of mineral water, please." The girl nodded, writing furiously.
"And I would like---"
"Whoa, there, bud," she interrupted Quatre, still writing. "Let me finish. Al . . . fre . . . do. Min . . . wa . . . ter. All right, your turn." She winked at Quatre.
"I would like the lasagna and a . . . Could you make a non-alcoholic Shirley Temple?"
"Oh, yeah. Alcohol is nasty. Lasagna," and Shiloh pronounced it with the 'g,' grinning to herself, "and a Shirrrrrrrlyyyyyyy . . . Temple! Two cherries?" Her blue eyes slid to Trowa briefly, then back to Quatre. He nodded. "Anything else? You get a free bag of . . . of . . ." Here her face sort of froze, and her eyebrows furrowed as she frowned in concentration. Shiloh made descriptive gestures with her hands. "Darn . . . of . . . they're long, you eat them, I'm so friggin' dyslexic . . . Breadsticks!" She grinned triumphantly at them. "I knew it, I knew I did. You get free breadsticks. Salad?"
With his eyebrows raised, Quatre nodded. "That would be nice, thank you. A garden salad with Ranch dressing." He looked at Trowa, who nodded.
"No problem. If you'll excuse me, I'll give the cook your order now." She moved quickly away and Quatre's gaze followed, looking appreciatively at the blonde's long legs, which were encased in sheer black nylons and shown to excellent advantage by the short skirt she wore. He was still staring when Trowa kicked him under the table. Hard.
"Aiy!" Quatre muffled his yelp of pain and stared at Trowa, who was scowling slightly at him. "Trowa, what---"
"Don't." Quatre opened his mouth, but was interrupted. "Don't."
"I was just looking. No harm in looking." Trowa pursed his lips and crossed his arms over his chest, still glowering. "Look, you may find nothing attractive about women and girls, but I do. I may look, but I'm not going to touch." Trowa looked to the side, and Quatre was getting frustrated. "Look, Trowa, I'm not going to sleep around on you."
"Heero's rather attractive. Would you be jealous if I watched him in those tight Spandex shorts?"
Quatre smiled. "I think I'd watch with you. But to answer your question, yes, I'd be jealous. I wouldn't, however, think that you were going to hop into his bed. I trust you not to do that."
"You're saying I don't trust you, then."
"You don't appear to, Trowa." Trowa opened his mouth, but Quatre leaned over the table and pulled the brunette to him, kissing his lover firmly. There was a moment of unresponsiveness, then Trowa slowly relaxed into the kiss, sighing softly. It was what could be called a chaste kiss, Quatre certain that Trowa wouldn't want it to be more while they were in public, but it was passionate nonetheless.
"I told you they were together, Kristin."
The two young men sat back, Trowa flushing and Quatre flustered, and Shiloh laughed.
"All right, I have here two chef salads with Ranch dressing, a Shirley Temple, non-alcoholic, a bottle of mineral water, and a basket of breadsticks. Butter's on the table if you'll look down and your food will be here in about ten minutes." She glanced at a petite blonde sitting at the table behind her. "Then it's my break, love." The young woman nodded as Shiloh set Trowa and Quatre's food down, then walked off.
"I can't believe you did that!" Trowa hissed, slouching a bit in his seat and looking around furtively. "That was so embarrassing!"
The young blond covered a smile and then placed his hand over Trowa's. "Oh? I suppose it was, a little. Are you embarrassed to be seen in public with me? As my lover?"
"Well, no, but when you do that---"
"You were enjoying it," Quatre pointed out. He calmly picked up his fork and started eating.
"That's not the point," Trowa snapped, then took a drink of his water.
"What is the point, then? Would you rather we pretend that we're not lovers in public? I don't care who knows, Trowa, but if you're not comfortable with our relationship---"
"You're jumping to conclusions," Trowa murmured.
Quatre went still, heart skipping several beats. "What do you mean?" He asked it perhaps a tad too quickly.
His brunette lover took a bit of his salad, making Quatre want to scream. After he swallowed, he took a sip of water, then looked at a point to the left of Quatre's head. "You're assuming we have a relationship."
The quiet statement nearly knocked Quatre out of his chair, and his hands shook as he set his fork down, asking quietly, "Do we?"
"I don't know." Trowa looked down. "Look, I'm sorry, Quatre. I'm . . . I didn't mean it." He reached over and took Quatre's hand. "We have a relationship, a very wonderful one. You're everything I could ever have dreamt of in a friend and lover." The young man looked down again, collecting his thoughts. "I do trust you, I'm just . . . afraid to lose you. I don't want to argue anymore."
Quatre attempted a smile as he nodded. "I admit, I was pushing it. We're both stressed, what with the mission and our appointment next week."
A shy look was directed at him. "Are you worried?" Trowa asked softly.
"A little. But we can worry after we're done here."
"All right. But, if we're all right, will you, ah . . ." The faint blush that threatened to spread across Trowa's cheeks made Quatre smile.
"Will I make love to you?" Trowa nodded. "Yes," Quatre murmured as he slid around next to Trowa, affecting a bad Itallian accent, "I will. I will lay you down and we will make beautiful music together." During this he pulled Trowa close and took Trowa's hands in his. The accent seemed to amuse Trowa no end. The brunette was smiling only a little, but his eyes were twinkling with laughter at Quatre's antics. Quatre was whispering loving nonsense in Trowa's ear when Shiloh walked up with their food.
"All right, fettuccini Alfredo for the Unibanged Wonder here, and lasagna for . . ." She turned and was about to set Quatre's plate down when she paused, looking first at where Quatre had been, then at Quatre. She looked back and forth a few more times, then settled her gaze on Quatre. "Weren't you over there before?"
Quatre gave her a wide-eyed and innocent smile as he shook his head and shrugged, then Trowa shook his head. "No. He was by me the whole time."
"Noooo . . ." Shiloh shook her head and placed their meals down. "No . . . That's not right. You were right there, then you moved there."
"Oh, I'm quite sure you're mistaken, ma'am. I've been sitting here the whole time."
"Uhm . . . sure. Oaky. I'm going even crazier. Pity me and leave a big tip, ne?" She looked back and forth once more, then laughed softly to herself as she sat by the other blonde girl.
Quatre turned back to Trowa and they shared a smile before turning to their meals, sharing food, stories about themselves, and low laughter. Quatre decided that Trowa's laughter was the most beautiful sound in the world. He kept that revelation to himself for the moment and opted instead to invent poetry describing Trowa's beauty. Trowa responded by covering his face with one hand and laughing his wonderful laugh. It was almost silent, and Trowa tilted his head down as he laughed, his whole body shaking. Quatre delighted in making Trowa laugh.
"Quatre, no more, please. This is embarrassing."
The blond smiled. "But it's true. If I had to chose between my money or you---"
"God forbid that ever happen."
"---I'd chose you."
"Didn't you disown yourself?"
A shrug. "Technically, yes, but that means the Winners are out an heir. I figure that once the war is over and Father cools down I'll be the heir again. But I'm not counting on it."
Trowa looked at his plate. "We're done," he murmured.
"So we are. Would you like to leave?" Quatre raised Trowa's hand to his mouth and kissed each knuckle slowly.
Withdrawing his hand, Trowa stood. "Before you start singing love songs and dancing on the table, yes."
"Oh, you're saying I can't sing well?" Quatre set a sizeable tip down before offering his arm to Trowa, smiling to show that he was joking.
Trowa took Quatre's arm with a nod. "I haven't heard you sing, so I wouldn't know. Let's save the serenading for private, though?"
Quatre pretended to consider. "Well . . . all right." He stopped and looked at the restaurant's selection of pies. Shiloh, behind the counter, tilted her head inquiringly at them. "May we get a strawberry swirl cheesecake, please?"
"You want the whole thing?" Quatre nodded and the blonde shrugged. "Oaky. That'll be, oh . . . ten credits." Quatre paid and dropped his hand to the side while Shiloh turned away to put the pie in a box, gently brushing it against Trowa's. After a moment's hesitation, Trowa's fingers intertwined with Quatre's. "Thank you, and please come again!" Shiloh smiled brightly at them both.
"Thank you." Quatre smiled back at the young woman, then pulled Trowa gently out before his lover could become upset because he was smiling too long, drawing him out into the cool night air. He leaned his head back and stared up. "I wish there were real stars. I never appreciated the stars before I came to Earth. They're so beautiful."
Long fingers moved in his gently, but Trowa never let his hand go. "I never really noticed. The only times I ever looked at the stars were to make sure the merc groups was safe from an air attack."
Quatre let a moment pass before he looked at Trowa, taking in the brunette's thoughtful expression, his upturned face. "Do you ever wish you could go back and change things, Trowa?"
That brought him a startled glance from his lover. "The past, you mean?" Trowa thought for a moment when Quatre nodded. " . . . Sometimes. Sometimes I wish I had had a normal childhood, with a good home, parents who loved me, friends . . . But then I wouldn't have met you. So, maybe I'd change it a little. Have a real name, make the men who touched me leave me alone." He stopped and turned, pulling Quatre into his arms. "Then I would be all right, and I'd still have you."
Quatre turned his face up and received a gentle kiss from Trowa. He couldn't help but smile as he returned it and slid his arms around the young man's waist, ignoring the scattered murmurs from the crowd around them. He was immersed in Trowa's gentle touch, his gentle love, and couldn't care less what the public thought. Though amidst the sprinkled expression of shock or disgust, Quatre could have sworn he heard a few cheers and encouraging remarks.

* * *

It was five past midnight when Quatre and Trowa got back to the hotel. Both fully expected to be yelled at for being late. Surprisingly, all Wufei did was turn away from the window and go into his room, closing the door without a word.
"I guess this means we're not in trouble," Quatre commented. Trowa shrugged a bit. "Well . . . what shall we do tomorrow? Whatever you want, we'll do."
Trowa turned back the covers and slid into the bed, then turned on his side and watched Quatre. "I want to . . . stay in bed all day."
"Done. With me?" Trowa nodded. "Even better." The noble smiled and shifted, breathing a soft sigh. He and Trowa were lovers, yes, and they'd been sharing a bed for over a month, but now they were sharing a bed as lovers. The awkwardness they both felt was obvious in the way they lay, each on opposite sides of the bed but facing each other. Quatre hesitantly reached his hand out to the center of the bed and let it rest there as he looked at Trowa. His lover responded by reaching his own hand out and for a while Quatre was content with just holding hands. "May I . . . may I hold you, please?" he whispered.
Trowa's face softened and he scooted to the middle of the bed. "Please," he murmured. "I've been hoping you would."
"You never have to wait for me to ask, Trowa." Once they were next to each other Trowa turned on his side and faced away from Quatre, snuggling back into the blonde's embrace. "You can ask, or just hug me." He kissed the back of Trowa's neck gently.
Trowa shivered and covered Quatre's hand with his own, as it lay across his stomach. He didn't say anything, but his silence said all that needed to be said.

* * *

"Time?"
"Oh-one-thirty."
"We have fifteen minutes of good sleep left."
Wufei pulled the covers down and Quatre could feel his glare. "Barton and I have been up for over an hour."
"Then you're both crazy." Quatre sat up and yawned. "All right, all right, I'm up. Trowa, put the cold rag down and back away. Wufei, go away." He smiled wryly and rubbed his eyes.
"If you go back to bed, I'm separating you two for a week," was Wufei's parting threat as he left the room.
"Someone needs to get laid," Quatre muttered.
Trowa helped his lover out of bed and shook his head. "Last night."
Shirt halfway on, Quatre paused. "Eh?"
"Relena was here last night. I could smell her perfume when I woke Wufei up."
"Then I suppose he's always grouchy. Poor Relena." Quatre managed to be dressed and ready when Altair showed up at exactly two o'clock. She looked at the three of them and blinked once.
"You and Wufei didn't have to get up yet."
"You never said that!" Altair's lips twitched as Quatre glared at her. "Bitch."
Altair bowed mockingly. "We might was well all go, then. We can get done earlier."
The base was ten kilometers out of the densely inhabited area, nestled in the side of the colony and reminding Quatre of some cancerous growth. Or maybe it was just his imagination. He had nothing to do but sit in Sandrock and worry as Trowa and Altair disappeared into the abandoned building complex that hid the two Gundams. The Arab freedom fighter checked his equipment compulsively and scanned the entire area for trouble as he sat, alone with his thoughts. It was excruciating torture until the base blew up suddenly, then Quatre jerked into action.
Sandrock erupted from the old building it was in, the sound of its thrusters drowning out the wailing of the alarm sirens. Quatre caught a glimpse of Shenlong's Dragon Claw spouting flame as he headed toward the base. Trowa and Altair were running as fast as they could toward him as he set his Gundam down and opened the hatch. Altair did a flip much like Trowa could do and caught the cable he lowered, pulling herself up and into the cockpit.
"Go."
"But---"
"Go!" The young woman wedged herself into the small space beside her brother, slapping the hatch control. "We barely made it. Wufei will get Trowa. Now go before you get us killed, boy!"
His heart cried out for his lover but Quatre did as he was told, turning around and raising his sickles and cutting down an advancing Leo. He paid no attention to what Altair was doing until she spoke.
"All units, intensify fire on Gundam zero five. Keep it away from the base."
Quatre turned. "Altair, wha---"
"I'm an OZ soldier, Quatre. Shut up."
The blond bit his lip and dove to avoid an attacking Aries, swinging his sickles around it and squeezing until the suit exploded. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
There was a muffled curse and then Altair snorted. "You're sorry." She turned the commlink on and calmly continued to issue orders. Quatre glanced at her and noticed she was holding her elbow, then smiled.
"Hurt yourself?" he asked with sweet sarcasm the next time she turned the commlink to standby.
"You're all clear. Land in that field and let me off. I'll take care of your Gundam."
Quatre sighed. "Fine. Care to tell me why you're with OZ?"
"No." They both climbed out and dropped to the ground.
"How am I getting back to the hotel?"
"Basima will take you." Altair looked around, then at her watch. "She'll be here soon. Trowa has another mission and won't be back at the hotel. He gives his love."
There were times when Quatre really wanted to hit Altair. She didn't care about anyone but herself, controlled people, manipulated to get what she wanted, and didn't even try to be polite to others. Plus she was poking around Sandrock now. Quatre crossed his arms over his chest and fumed quietly rather than try to talk to her.
"Stop thinking so loud. It's annoying."
"What?" Quatre raised his eyebrows as Altair turned and walked over to him, tapping his forehead.
"Stop. Thinking. So. Loud." Suddenly a car appeared, which made Quatre jump because he hadn't heard it approach. Altair straightened. "Basima."
"Altair." The woman got out of the care and Quatre's eyes widened. She was Arabic, wore black leather and six-inch heels. As Quatre stared he discovered the reason he hadn't heard the car. It had no wheels, just hovered above the ground. Quatre stared until Basima spoke. "It's the new model the government uses for covert ops. It'll be available to the public in about ten years." She walked to Altair and turned, looking Quatre over. "This him?"
"Yes. Six months." Altair's face showed nothing, and Quatre was confused.
"Mm. Better make it a year." Basima crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head at Quatre, examining him.
"I trust your judgement. We need to discuss the Hakim issue when you get back." Quatre frowned. Hakim was their father's name. But Altair hated him. What was she up to now?
"Ah. Well, come along, boy. We haven't time to waste." Basima took three long strides to the car and looked down at Quatre. Normally, she'd be about his height, but the heels she wore elevated her chest to Quatre's eye level and he blushed before turning away. Behind him there was a snort, then the crunch of gravel under Basima's heels.
"Altair?" No answer. His sister was gone. Quatre sighed and pulled on what he assumed was the door handle, jumping back as the door rose up and out. He slid in and buckled up, pulling the door down, then glanced at Basima as she reversed the car and sighed. "Why is Altair with OZ?"
There was a moment of silence as the car slid smoothly over the ground, then, "It's a job."
"But . . . she's a mercenary, isn't she? Terrorist-for-hire?"
"We're not playing Twenty Questions. Ask her yourself . . . Your lover will be all right."
Her last remark caught Quatre off-guard. "You know about Trowa?"
"Is that his name, now? Yes, I suppose I do."
"Damn it!" Quatre slammed his fists on the dashboard. "Damn it! I wish, for once, that I knew what was going on! I wish everyone didn't know Trowa before me! I wish . . ."
As Quatre vented, Basima flicked a switch. The car rumbled, then bounced a bit. Quatre held his head in his hands and didn't look up, but started relaxing when the woman beside him turned on some classical music. After a moment Quatre composed himself and raised his head.
"I know only what I am told," Basima said quietly. "I did not know your lover personally. Altair spoke of him to me because she felt I should know about him."
"But why? She's not Allah! Why must she interfere with my life?!"
Basima shrugged and stopped the car. "She feels she must. I know nothing more. Now go."
"I'm leaving, I'm leaving." Quatre got out of the vehicle and blinked to see it now had wheels. He blinked again as he realized it was Altair's green Mazda. 'Oh, no wonder she doesn't use a better car . . . she doesn't have a better car . . .' He kicked at the ground and scowled as he walked into the hotel. 'Damn it. Trowa, where are you? Please be safe . . . This is so unfair! Why can't we have normal lives? Don't the people in power realize they're destroying and ruining lives in their little power play? Or maybe they just don't care . . ."
"Quatre?"
The young man froze and turned, eyes widening to see Duo striding toward him, smoothing down the red, sequined dress he wore. "Duo! What are you doing here?" He opened his room's door and gestured for Duo to enter.
"Just bumming around. Didn't want to outstay my welcome at your place and Heero's on a mission. Nice place you got here." He sat on the couch and propped his feet on the coffee table, kicking off his high heels.
"You look lovely," Quatre commented. Duo's dress was low-cut and went up to above mid-thigh, and the American had a red ribbon braided into his hair. "I like the red. Suits you better than that blue one of yours."
"Thanks. You alone?"
"Well, Trowa and Wufei were here, but Trowa had another mission and I don't know where Wufei is." He bit his lip as he looked down at the American. "I'm worried about Trowa."
"Of course you are. Come here, baby." Duo held his arms out and pulled Quatre into his lap, raising his hand to cup Quatre's cheek gently. He leaned forward and lowered his feet to the floor, wrapping his arms around Quatre's waist and resting his head on the blonde's chest. Duo listened to Quatre's heartbeat for a while and then Quatre felt him smile. "It's hard, you know? Wanting something and not being able to have it. It's there, just out of your reach, not matter how far you reach for it . . ."
Quatre gently stroked Duo's hair as he straddled the young man's lap, kissing the top of his head gently. "Maybe you're trying too hard, Duo. Emotionally, I'd say Heero's about three. He's not ready---"
Duo chuckled softly and tilted his head up, eyes midnight blue in the dim room. "I wasn't talking about Heero, Quatre," he murmured.
Duo's lips were so beautiful, glistening softly from Duo licking them, tilting up toward him and curving slightly as they opened under his. Time stood still as Duo and Quatre watched each other, neither one aware that they were going to kiss until it began. At that point it was too late; both were leaning in for another kiss, hands gently sliding under shirts to get to the soft skin underneath. Fingers and mouths explored, causing sighs and murmurs of pleasure.
Duo lay Quatre back on the couch and sucked on his neck softly, his breath quick and halting. He was moving down to kiss Quatre's stomach when Quatre pushed at him.
"Duo, no . . . I can't . . ."
"Then you're on top," Duo whispered. He rolled and pulled Quatre down for another kiss, hands sliding down to slip over the blonde's rump and then he pulled out a package of condoms from somewhere. Quatre wasn't paying attention. "Rule one: always use protection."
After another breathless kiss, during which Quatre's vest and shirt ended up on the floor, two sets of hands worked quickly to rid two burning bodies of the rest of their clothing. Not one word was exchanged. Their bodies spoke for them.
"Let me show you something," Duo whispered. He slid from Quatre's arms and straddled the blonde's waist, then slid the band from his hair. He shook the mass free, letting it fall over his shoulders. "Now, I'm used to this, but don't go trying it with Trowa if he's not lubed up real good." As he spoke, the young man twisted the cap from a tube of lubricant and squeezed a bit onto his fingers. He reached behind him and Quatre could guess what he was doing.
Quatre let his hands wander of Duo's stomach as he lay back, willing all thought to flee his mind. He watched Duo's expression as the brunette readied himself, then gasped softly when he felt Duo's hand around his arousal.
"Shh, don't worry," Duo whispered. "I know what I'm doing." He gently guided Quatre into him, moving slowly as the blond boy panted. "Oh, God . . ." He laughed, soft and breathless, once Quatre was completely inside of him, then leaned forward and brought his lips up against Quatre's.
Quatre responded by wrapping his arms around Duo's back and buried his moans in the crook of his friend's neck as Duo moved over him, gently at first. Soon, though, their mutual passion overwhelmed them and the speed of their lovemaking increased.
It wasn't until they both lay on the couch, breathing heavily in each other's arms, that the reality of the situation sunk in.
"Oh, God . . ." Quatre's eyes widened and he struggled to sit up. Duo just watched him, unbound hair half-covering his naked chest. "Duo, what did we . . . we just . . ."
"Had sex," Duo finished for him. "And it was wonderful."
"Duo, no, you don't understand! Trowa---"
The long-haired young man shrugged and pulled Quatre down again. "Won't know unless you tell him. Besides, what's a good fuck between friends?" At Quatre's blank look Duo shrugged. "Hey, where I'm from, sex is for fun. If someone was your friend, then it was a sure bet they were your lover, too. I see nothing wrong with it. You'll go back to Trowa, and I'll . . . well." Soft lips brushed against Quatre's. "There are no emotional ties here, Quatre. I don't expect or want you to ditch Trowa for me, and I'm not going to ask you to keep sleeping with me."
Quatre nodded mutely, though his views on sex were wildly different than Duo's. 'But there are emotional ties,' he thought. 'If I had the chance, I wouldn't change what happened tonight. Oh, Trowa, please forgive me . . .'
Duo smiled and stretched leisurely. "Now that that's taken care of, mind if I crash here tonight?"
"Ahh . . . all right," Quatre murmured. Somehow they ended up in the same bed, holding each other gently.