Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ I Got Game! ❯ Complicated ( Chapter 17 )

Alternate Universe, Sci-Fi? Sporty, Some Events Based On Authoress's own experiences....(wee! Basketball!)

Standard Disclaimers Apply: Don't own Gundam Wing, but I own every original character that emerges...Don't own the songs listed with the chapters, either...

Pairings: 4x3/3x4, 1+2, 5xM & various others...

>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<= means scene change

A/N: Hmm, yes, Trieze definitely fit there...I'm glad ya'll liked that chapter! It was rather short, but, hey. This one might make up for it. Heh, heh, heh... "spurt"...Ah, Myca...the 'event', as you so mentioned, will actually be pretty soon. A lot of Milky Ways and Diet Cokes has led me to actually have it happen sooner than ya'll be ready for!! Wa-Ha-Ha!

Chapter Seventeen~

"Complicated"=Submersed

Triton was most often irritated when things didn't go his way. Sometimes, he was downright annoyed. Especially when it came to things he wanted. He wasn't the type to take rejection too fondly, or too nicely. It was a side of him that one rarely got to see, as most of the time, everyone saw him as a fun-loving, carefree kind of person. Sometimes, if they were unfortunate enough, they were treated to the other side of him, the side that pouted and snapped over things that weren't in his control. This side was more commonly seen when he was drunk or buzzed with drugs-whichever came first or whichever was stronger.

Tonight was one of those nights, unfortunately, but he didn't take it out on anybody. It showed in his face as he stood just outside the free throw line, hands on his hips and his attention down the court. The crowd was simply dull in Ferndale's gym, as there was hardly anyone there to support the team. He glanced at the sullen players, all of whom had given up on their chance for winning the moment Quatre began intimidating their point guard.

Ferndale's team was not that strong, or otherwise they wouldn't have Darken, especially Duo, racking up the points. Glancing up at the scoreboard, he saw that it was 67-19, and that was just the second quarter. Try as they might, they just weren't good enough. Standing on his side, hands on his hips, he watched with almost admiration on his face as he watched Quatre play-the blond was simply gifted when it came to handling the ball. He knew precisely when it was right for him to pass when he didn't even look in that direction-he knew who was going to be where when they weren't even there yet-he could dribble his way through a tightly guarded area without hesitation. Even if he were down on the court, he was either dribbling continuously with one hand or already throwing it to someone he knew was there to receive it. His passes weren't intercepted unless the person that was supposed to be there allowed that interception-Triton was secretly in awe of the blond's gift to play.

He looked up in the bleachers to see that most of the fans from Darken were pointing out 'that Winner kid'. Even the judges that sat along the table were impressed by the smooth, skillful way that Quatre played, pointing out his best strengths and rarely admitting the weaknesses-which were none when it came down to it. Triton felt his lower lip flub out as he sighed in boredom-the defense in which Quatre commanded kept the ball from even entering their area, so he was rather bored.

Finally, when the score was up to 81-30, Quatre let up on his defense, finally allowing the players through without much trouble. Triton was annoyed at that-even though they were bored didn't mean they had to be pitied.

At halftime, Ramos gave the usual speech about how they had to back down when it came to a weaker team-Triton didn't pay too much attention to it. He was too busy staring across the heads of his teammates at Quatre, who had once again placed himself out of the comradery of the team's group and had his collar over his nose once more. It wasn't that anybody stunk-merely, the blond used that action to hide whatever he was thinking at the moment. Triton knew he wasn't focused on Ramos' words-narrowing his eyes, Triton knew that the blond was thinking of his weirdo boyfriend, Trowa Barton.

At one time, Triton had had a small crush on Ralph Curt's boyfriend. The uptight prick who wore scandalously tight jeans and was notorious for freaking out over typos in some teacher's study guide. Trowa Barton, who used to be normal. Now he was some makeup wearing freak that carried around art supplies and declared himself an artist because he could draw stick figures better than nothing. Triton was annoyed that the two were together-they really didn't fit. They were two opposite ends of a spoon drawer and went together like oil and water. Yet, they were together most of the time on campus and rumor had it that they were going to be married as soon as Trowa turned eighteen.

Triton was a little more than annoyed that the blond had chose the goth over him. What was wrong with him? Triton knew he was good-looking, charismatic and more than able to handle his half in the bedroom, no matter what the gender. He had grown rather fond of the blond when he'd first come to Darken, impressed with his basketball skills and the way he commandeered the court like some dictator. Now, that fondness had grown to something more of a, well, infatuation. Triton, after noticing the skills, had noticed the person. Mainly, the person's beauty. Quatre was a very good looking guy, one had to admit once they saw past the moodiness. When one looked at Winner, they saw a tousled head full of white blond hair that looked extremely soft to the touch, a beautiful, square-shaped jaw that brought out thin cheekbones and large blue/green eyes, moodily shaped eyebrows and a mouth that looked close to a pouting frown. When Triton looked upon Quatre, he saw what Trowa saw most of the time and couldn't help but felt envious that he wasn't allowed the same freedom as the goth to touch and pleasure when he found suit.

He was sure, as rumors said, that the blond was simply a wildcat in bed. He wanted to find out personally, but the blond had kicked his ass at the theater before anything could happen. Only, that didn't turn Triton off-rather, it had another effect on him. He was seriously annoyed that Quatre had battled his sexuality for some time then settled on that goth rather than him. It bugged him to no end.

"That's it for now. Now, let's go out there and have a good game. No murdering them just because," Ramos finished, gesturing at them to join the group.

Triton followed through with the usual chant, his eyes leaving Quatre to focus on his task.

In the end, they slaughtered Ferndale's Vaqueros 100-32, without even trying too hard. Quatre had even sat out voluntarily.

Sighing heavily at a too easy game, Triton had stuck around to gather a couple of chicks' phone numbers and joke around with the others while they got ready to head back to Darken. Ramos and the assistant coaches had walked off to talk to the other coach, so the team was pretty much unsupervised while they changed out of their uniforms and into their casual clothing, ready for the three hour bus ride back to Darken. After Triton had showered and changed, he wandered throughout the gym area, where some of the team was mingling with the other kids from Ferndale. But along the way, some kids from Ferndale had managed to piss off Hautta James, and while the team was suddenly focused on keeping the superhuman from kicking normal human ass, Triton noticed that Quatre wasn't among the crowd. Curious, Triton left the spectacle to search out the blond. He felt like pissing him off just to see the way the blond's eyes seemed to glitter with fury once he felt in the mood to fight.

He left the shouts and screams of the fight, Ramos running helter-skelter to break the thing up, and wandered into the locker room. Once he heard the shower on, Triton hoped against hope and sneaked over in that direction, making sure that no one else was there. Just as he thought, when he peeked into the open shower stall, he saw Quatre quickly washing off the sweat and such he'd accumulated through the game. Triton could only gape as he stared at the toned body, the alabaster skin slick with moisture. He stared at the way the toned back flexed and shifted with every movement of his arms, the way his stomach muscles quivered with his rush to complete the shower without anyone noticing he was in there. Water plastered white blond hair to his skull, hanging in his eyes, and while he groaned at getting soap in his eyes, he left his privates unguarded as he rubbed at his face. Not one to miss an opportunity like this, Triton reached into his shorts and began to play with himself, imagining just what it would feel like if he could reach out and touch that round, toned ass that never seemed to jiggle, and the smooth, almost hairless thighs that flexed with each movement. It wasn't that he was overly muscular-but all these years of just playing ball or running kept Quatre in very good shape. Triton could only imagine what it would be like to have that body over his, those toned arms wrestling him for dominance. Trowa Barton had all the damn luck.

Triton heard the sounds of Manny and the others entering the locker room, so he quickly stopped playing with himself, and swiftly entered a bathroom stall. He heard the shower shut off a few minutes later, as he was jerking himself to completion. Someone pounded upon the stall door and roared at him to get off the pot. Ignoring Tony, Triton wiped himself clean, flushed the toilet paper down the drain, and hoped he looked presentable when he emerged.

"So? Who won?" he asked curiously as he went to wash his hands.

"Who do you think? Hautta was suspended, dude. Ramos is screaming at him down the hall."

"What happened, anyway?"

"Don't know. Something about the way Hautta was playing. And something about him being a child whore. Whatever. But the guys got their asses kicked and Hautta's off the team for the season." Tony shrugged as he walked off, startling Quatre nearby. "Jeesus, man! Get some sun on that skin!"

"Fuck off..."

Triton chuckled upon hearing Quatre's answer. He rounded the corner of the section just in time to see the blond hurriedly pulling on a shirt and a sweater. The memory of what he'd seen in the shower still fresh upon his mind, he walked over and swatted that unprotected round ass, startling the blond. Upon contact, Triton was sure to grab a handful of that hard curve, pinching hard.

Always quick at reflex, Triton dodged the customary kick that was aimed for his balls. After that last kick to the family jewels, Triton was careful to make sure he avoided that back kick.

"Hey, man, good game," he congratulated as he walked off, picking up his things along the way. It just wasn't fair, he thought, looking at his hand and remembering that handful of ass he'd grabbed. Barton had all the luck...

>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<

Trowa stared at the planet ticket he had in one hand. Then he stared at his fake ID. He repeated this several times, sighing heavily each time. Duo wasn't sure what was going on there, so he pretended not to notice as he hung up his jersey and shorts, folding up his warmups. He wasn't sure, but it looked as if his roommate were planning an illegal trip out of state. He wondered how the goth was able to do that sort of thing when admin granted that sort of leeway to those student with parental permission. But, of course, the goth had his 'mysterious' ways, and so, Duo wasn't going to try too hard to wonder how he managed to obtain such illegal gifts. He knew the goth had his connections-after all, he knew too well what Trowa was capable of buying, and he touched his jaw, frowning as he remembered how much shit he and his friends had given Quatre, and how much they had to pay for it just because they had a little fun fucking up his room. It was too embarrassing to address out loud, but Duo kept a firm and hostile distance from Felicia Passage.

But once upon a time, he and Trowa were on good speaking terms-Duo traded homework information with the former studious student, and said student traded good answers and such for a chance to be on good terms with the more popular students on campus in order to be closer to his boyfriend, Ralph. It wasn't one of those good friendships that were based on mutual understanding and compatibility, but rather, a forceful acquaintance due to their being roommates. And frankly, Duo missed that normal Trowa Barton. This one was just too weird, with his makeup, psychotic boyfriend and abnormal ways. So, in an effect to get that Trowa Barton back, he was going to venture a little further past their stated boundaries and try to reach out and touch him, to bring him back to normalcy.

Plus, it was just a ploy to piss off Quatre Winner-that showboating prick deserved it.

Finally, Trowa sighed heavily for the last time, put the ticket and ID away in one of his numerous sketchbooks, and kicked off his flame-toed boots, nearly hitting Duo in the head with one.

"Watch it!" Duo snarled in startled effect, throwing the shoe back onto Trowa's side of the room.

"Who won?" Trowa asked in reply, ducking his head to avoid being hit. It bounced off the wall behind him and landed on his bed.

"We did, of course. Hautta was kicked off the team for fighting with someone, though." Duo shrugged and reached back to undo his customary braid. Brushing through it with his fingers, he pulled out the snarls and twists that were customary with long hair. "So, we're like a shooting guard short."

"Oh."

Duo frowned as Trowa displayed his non-interest and yawned loudly to filter out any more conversation. The goth then threw his shoe off his bed, and prepared to snuggle deep down within the Calvin Klein sheets. After he finished putting things away, he sat down at the edge of his bed, clutching his own sheets. "So..."

"Don't even try for conversation, Duo," Trowa muttered, turning his back to him and facing the wall.

Duo sighed, slumping his shoulders. "Remember we used to talk all the time?"

Trowa grunted, pulling his blankets over his head.

"You know, we got along better when you weren't so damn...freakish..."

"Says the closet homo."

"I'm NOT!"

Trowa grunted again, fluffing his pillow.

Duo frowned at the goth, and pulled off his own shoes, getting ready for bed. Trowa did hit a little close to home...was it so wrong to have an admiring perspective on another student, no matter that the student was a male? Then he stared at Trowa again. Rather, he stared at the back of his head, noting the faint scar that was barely hidden beneath close cropped auburn hair.

"Dude...seriously. What do you see in that prick?" he finally asked, breaking the thick silence. "I mean, I play with the dude. He's such a shit. No one likes him."

Trowa didn't answer, but adjusted his pillow again, smacking his lips loudly and settling into a comfortable position.

Duo continued forward. "I can set you up with someone better. She's new. She wanted to get to know you better, even though, I don't know why. She's really cool, man. She's on the dance team. Her name's Middie. She's really pretty."

"Good night, Duo."

"C'mon! She asked me if you would be interested in going out with her, sometime. She doesn't mind that you play both sides...she wouldn't give you stitches or anything, man. Seriously. Think about it."

Trowa began snoring elaborately, and Duo groaned, flopping backward on his bed as he stared up at the ceiling. "Look, she's in a few of your classes. Talk to her. Get to know her. She'll take your mind off that asshole. Man, he doesn't even treat you good! I mean, it's so obvious you guys are supposed to be together, but he doesn't even acknowledge you! She's really friendly, and she's super-cool. She used to live in Oklahoma City...but she moved here from Seattle. She's into your type of freakish bullshit. She's prep, but she's into it. You know? C'mon...at least talk to her tomorrow. Okay? I'll let her know you're interested...I just want you to be normal again. C'mon, man."

When Duo realized that Trowa was still ignoring him, he sighed loudly, then got into his bed. He'd try again in the morning.

>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<

"Really?"

"No."

"Really?"

"...no."

"Really?"

"...Goddammit! NO! Okay?! NO! N-O! NO! GOD!"

Trowa snickered, trying to hold in his laughter as Quatre threw his arms over his head and pranced in place, fairly vibrating with rage. "I was just asking...it was a simple question that required a 'yes or no' answer," Trowa said on a sniff, returning his attention to his notebook. The library was filled with studious students that glanced every so often in their direction when Quatre gave a loud outburst of noise.

Go was even trying to hold in his chuckles as he concentrated on his own homework, sitting next to Trowa. Quatre had left his seat a few minutes ago to search for a reference book on his own homework for World History, and in the resulting action, Trowa had conjured up a few ways to annoy his lovely blond bomb. He had not yet reached his daily quota of abuse from the love of his high school life, and he felt seriously overdue.

"NO, Trowa, I do not-! I DO NOT-! GOD!" Quatre ran his hands through his hair, squeezed a couple of tufts, then released them. Sitting calmly in his chair, creating a steeple with his hands, he faced Trowa with a serene expression, Trowa suddenly wary enough to hold his notebook in front of him like a shield and shift in his chair to keep his balls out of reach. "No, Trowa, I do not think that girls on their periods are good 'bloody steak' material."

"You guys are growing disgusting," Go muttered.

"I was just curious," Trowa said on a shrug.

Quatre gave him an exasperated expression, then hit the table with the palm of his hand. "Like you have experience with girls, anyway."

"I do."

"No, you don't. You told me that one day that you don't."

"How do you know I wasn't lying to you?" Trowa asked, resuming a normal seating position and turning his notebook on to dally around his study guide for chemistry.

"You wouldn't lie to me. You lie AROUND me, but not exactly to me," Quatre said matter-of-factly, drumming his fingers along the table top.

"Ooh, that's absolutely true, isn't it?" Trowa asked him on a feral grin, making the blond lean back in his chair with a disgusted expression. Go shook his head and tried not to pay attention to two boys flirting with each other, each in their own demented way.

Quatre clicked the roof of his mouth with his tongue and pretended to shoot at him, leaning back in his chair so that he was balancing on the two back legs, hand on the table to support him. While Trowa tried to think of other ways he could further annoy his love, he watched Quatre's eyes move away from him and focus on someone approaching their table. Trowa sat up in his chair, looking over his shoulder to see a girl walking nervously their way, wearing the customary girls' uniform, her golden blond hair arranged with pretty Hello Kitty barrettes. It was very pretty, actually, his artistic mind conjuring up images of 1940's heroines with the perfect curls that gave their hair so much body and style. She walked with a perky bounce, lips curved demurely in a nervous smile, fingers wringing the hem of her skirt. She was about five foot six and had a Hello Kitty band aid over one knee. She had strong features-though she was slender, her eyebrows were thick, manicured to form straight lines over her almond shaped green eyes, and her nose was slightly hooked, overhanging a pretty heart shaped mouth. All in all, she looked pretty interesting, and if Trowa hadn't been with Quatre, he definitely would have been interested, simply because the girl oozed a bit of originality.

He suddenly remembered Duo mentioning to him about some girl that was interested in him, and he wondered what on Earth gave the girl enough balls to come up to him while he was with Quatre.

"Hi," she said, smiling slightly as she pulled up a chair to sit next to him. She was obviously new- her shy attitude and somewhat endearing features were common with new kids, as they were not familiar with the academy just yet and had that Mary Sue quality about them. She was pretty, yes, but it was that un-earthy quality of hers that just screamed at Trowa to get up and run far, far away.

Because he recognized some of himself in her.

He flat-out ignored her, presenting her with a shoulder. Quatre stared at her, then at him as he lowered his chair to the floor. She ignored him with an obvious snub, crossing her ankles and leaning on the table with both elbows to face Trowa. She brought with her the smell of Calvin Klein's CK One. It clashed with his Eternity. He wanted to gag, but wasn't sure of a more polite way of doing it.

"My name's Middie!" she greeted cheerfully, her words formulated so slowly that Trowa wondered if her personal play-back was tuned on 'slow'. It sounded more like, "Mahee nahamme's Miiii-deeeee." He wondered what spot of hell spawned this girl. He could feel the vibes of her boldness clashing against his more quiet ones, and his vibes were failing miserably to launch a counterattack, leaving him somewhat speechless and scared. He inched more to the left, bumping into Go.

"I'm new here. I'm in a few of your classes, I figured I might as well as introduce myself... you know, on a 'get to know you' basis? Well, actually, my real name's Middie Une. My mother was German and my father was actually Italian. You look Latin...do you speak Spanish? I really liked Ricky Martin..."

Quatre choked on a bark of laughter, then coughed violently. Trowa shot him a glare, then frowned at Middie. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, disgust evident on his tone. He made sure he gave her an expression fully capable of letting her know just how nauseated he was with her.

Middie was just happy he was paying attention to her. She leaned even closer and settled more firmly in her seat. If anything, she was persistent. "I knew that would catch your attention! Wow, you have really beautiful eyes...are they green?"

Trowa ignored her, looking away to face the other direction. Quatre kicked him underneath the table, and when the goth looked at him, Quatre fluttered his eyelashes and tilted his head, clasped hands on his cheek. Trowa kicked him back while Middie caught the impersonation and frowned in the blond's direction.

"Oh, I know you," she said, batting her eyelashes prettily. "Wow, it's so neat to meet you in person! After all, the only way I know about you is through the gay fanfiction floating around here! Gary Pennerson's good at writing you in pornographic account..."

Quatre stared at her blunt way of speaking, just faintly aware that she'd made reference to an overly gay senior that was infamous for his cross-dressing ways. Then his brain registered the rest of the words she'd said, most of which concerned him in 'fanfiction', and at that, his brain electrode impulses shorted, rendering such as incompetent information. Trowa stared at Middie as well, the pair of them blinking in silent shock over her words. Then Quatre frowned, leaning forward in his seat, impulses firing back to life.

"Oh, was that you? I didn't recognize you with Dorothy Catalonia's pubes all over in your face," he snapped back.

"Ooh...is that all you can come up with? So what if I like to sample other girls' goodies?" Middie asked, flipping her curled hair over her shoulder and aiming a coy expression in his direction. "At least I can sample variety. What can you say about yourself, Mr. Spaulding? At least I can fuck animate objects rather than inanimate ones."

"You-!" Quatre paused, wondering if he should allow himself to be drawn into the overly mean girl's web. Middie smiled with an almost predatory smirk, then turned back to Trowa, who tried to keep his leg from touching hers, as she was sitting so close to him that their chairs clinked together with each movement. Frankly, he was afraid of the girl. She just oozed 'black widow' vibes.

"I'm sure you deserve better, Trowa Barton," she said, placing a hand on his upper thigh. He frowned and jiggled his leg, panicking at being the prey rather than the aggressor. Across the table, Quatre felt himself seething, curling his fists into balls and staring furiously at the blond that was intruding on his boyfriend's personal space. "Once you get tired of being this shithead's barf bag, call me. I'll always be waiting for you."

Middie winked at him, rose from her chair, and walked off, brushing her skirt off prettily. Quatre stared after her, gnashing his teeth while Trowa wondered how he could disinfect his pants without permanently staining them.

Go blinked. "Well...that sure was interesting. What happened?"

>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<

Trowa sighed heavily, staring upward at the ceiling as the entire student body was enveloped with cheer over tonight's home game against Stanton High. Quatre was beside him, muttering every so often as the school song was blasted with high pep from the school band and the cheerleaders made sure every high pitched cheer made their ears ring.

Felicia clamped her hands over her ears and muttered the lyrics to Radiohead's "Creep", while Drake fingered a cigarette, fairly vibrating with unexpressed fury as he eyed the 'mascot' below. Quatre straightened from his position, and looked at Trowa.

"Well?" he demanded over the clashing sounds of trumpet notes and high pitched squeals of cheer.

Trowa looked at him. "What?"

"Aren't you going to say anything?!"

"About what, Quatre?"

"About-! About her!"

"About who?!"

"Yeah, about who?" Felicia asked, overhearing the conversation.

"Oh, fucking stab me with a spork...Quat's freaking out over this girl who approached me in Study Hall," Trowa muttered, bringing his feet to rest up on the bench below them, elbows resting on his knees.

"Who is she, Quat? I'll rip her eyes out for you," she asked.

"Her name's-" Quatre started to say, evil glint coming to his eyes as he realized that Felicia = girl, and that girl + girl= catfight. He hadn't seen a really good catfight in ages.

"NEVER MIND, Felicia!" Trowa growled, cuffing the back of Quatre's head to shut him up. Quatre punched him back, so Felicia waited for the two to stop beating each other up, drumming her fingers along the bench with impatience. The band quieted, and the principal walked toward the center of the court to address the student body, all of whom settled into their seats and waited, talking quietly amongst themselves. The principal waited for complete silence, then began a speech about Stanton High and Darken's rivalry with them, stressing that there would be hell to pay if anything were to happen on campus or with any student visiting.

"Her name's Middie Une," Quatre whispered, rubbing his side, where Trowa had driven his finger knuckles into his ribs.

"Oh, Christ. That's that blond bitch from Chemistry, ennit?" Felicia muttered, shaking her head as she immediately recalled the girl. "She's new, Quat. And she's been eyeing your toy like he was a fuckin' lollipop."

"What?! And he lets her?!" Quatre asked, staring at Trowa. Then he gave a panicked expression, fretting. "I mean, it's not like I'm jealous or anything...it's just...he goes on and on about preps and he allows himself to get all drooled over by one...er..."

"Yeah, man. I hear you..."

Trowa grimaced, but inwardly enjoyed the fact that Quatre was indeed jealous over the blond's attention. But he had to save face somehow. After all, he did dislike preps..."Hello?! I can hear what you guys are saying about me!"

"Yeah, man! Like, fuckin', you ain't enough for him. Just give me the word, Winner, and I'll take her out for you. Er, not in the lesbian sense, of course." Felicia cracked her knuckles with a grin.

"Good. I'll-"

"HELLO! I'm still here!!"

"Ignore him, Quat. He's just playing on your emotions, the sick freak."

"Stupid bastard, I can't believe he does this to me. I mean, it's not like I'm jealous, I'm just saying that he's behaving all hypocritically.."

"Stupid prat, ennit? So, how should this be done? Easy? Hard?"

"I want her to suffer to her very last breath..."

"As good as done."

"I love you," Quatre murmured in a highly exaggerated Spanish accent, while Felicia immediately went with it, hand over her brow and draping her upper half over his lap. Drake gave an annoyed roll of his eyes and looked in the other direction, while Trowa stared with absolute disgust.

"Marry me!"

"We'll head to Vegas after school and be married by Elvis..."

The pair completed their dramatized act with madly exaggerated acts of stroking each other's heads, Trowa staring up at the ceiling and silently asking 'why me'?

"Fuck, yeah! Then we'll fuck each other's brains out on the Stratosphere..."

"And name our kids 'Heyou' and Justin Case..."

"Groovin'. Oh, Trowa, you want something?"

"Oh, yeah, forgot about him. Ssh. Pretend you haven't said anything."

Trowa remembered that he was a year older than the pair he stared at, and took two calming breaths in order to keep himself from reaching out and choking them both. He opened his mouth to speak when both Quatre's and Felicia's eyes shifted from him and narrowed with venomous stares at his left. He closed his eyes and counted to ten upon smelling CK One and feeling a warm body press against his arm and leg. He shifted so that his knees were facing in the other direction, and his hands were folded in his lap. He had no where to go.

"Hi, Trowa. Are these your friends? Hi, my name's Middie. Ooh, I've never seen you before. Are you new?" Middie asked Felicia, even though the girls were acquainted through shared classes. "Wow, you almost look like a girl if you let your hair down...you're almost feminine! Anyway, Trowa, I was wondering what you were doing after school? Do you want to go into town and grab something to eat before the game starts? How about it, mm? Duo said that you like that sort of thing, and I was wondering, you know, since I'm new and all, if you would show me around. He said that you would..."

"Trowa," Quatre nearly growled under his breath.

Trowa turned and looked at Middie, inching away from her blond perkiness. It soooo did not go with his image. Not that he was thinking of going for it, of course... "I'm busy, all right? Leave me alone, please."

"Ooh, you can't mean it that much if you added the word 'please'," she said on a small titter, shaking a finger in his direction. She leaned her head on his shoulder as she laughed quietly. He inched it away from her, trying to put as much space between them as he possibly could. But there was only so far he could go-Quatre was sitting next to him, and the blond wasn't moving anytime soon. Trowa eyed him, wondering how the blond would react to having the goth climb into his lap to try and get away from the girl.

"C'mon...you can show me where you get your hair done. I really like it that way! Maybe you should dye it black...it'll really bring out your Latin features...you've got really beautiful eyes, Trowa. Wow, maybe you should be a model...Hey, think about what I said, all right? I'm going to go sit with Duo and the others, just down there. I'll see you after school, before the game! Ciao!"

Middie rose from her seat and daintily made her way down to Duo and the others, all of whom were watching her as she did so. As soon as she reached them, they began talking to her immediately. Trowa looked away in disgust, wondering what he did to deserve this sort of attention when he heard twin grinding sounds that didn't sound too healthy. He looked to his side to see Quatre gnashing on his tie and Felicia practically gnawing on her own arm to keep from rushing down there to confront her.

He sighed heavily, drawing their attention. They crowded upon him immediately, drawing interested stares from those sitting around them. Suddenly annoyed at the attention, Trowa hid his face behind his hands, curling his fingers over his brow and hunching over. Not like anyone knew he was sitting there, but, if he couldn't see them, then they couldn't see him. Right? Right?!

"You didn't do anything to push her away, Trowa Barton," Felicia growled angrily.

"What was with that, Trowa? Are you interested in her, now?!" Quatre asked just as fiercely.

"NO!" Trowa growled back at them both. "Fuck off, the both of you. This is stupid."

"You're stupid for allowing that bullshit, fucker!"

"What's with that, Trowa? Why didn't you tell her 'no'?"

Trowa rose from his seat and moved away from them, muttering underneath his breath. There, from his position within a group of extremely startled freshmen nerds, he glared at his boyfriend and their conspiring female friend for the rest of the pep rally.

>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<

Quatre fumed about Middie Une as he paced his room, arms crossed and scowl fixed on his face. It was so annoying for that hussy to say those things to him, and act so...so...brazenly towards Trowa! And Trowa didn't do anything! He didn't try and push her away, or try to tell her off! It was as if he were encouraging the entire thing! He was furious, and for one main thing, he really didn't know why. Sure, it bothered him that the blond could speak so...so...viciously, but then again, it was...well, he sure did dislike it when Trowa didn't fight her off.

Damn it! Why didn't the goth kick her, or something? Head butt her?! At least use the table as a baseball bat and knock her off to Kingdom Come!! Quatre figured he would have if he felt threatened! But Trowa did nothing! NOTHING!

There was a sharp knock at his door, and he looked at the clock on his desk, seeing that it was nearly an hour before game time. He gathered his things and threw his shoes on top of the space that was created over the large surface of the bag, and answered his door. Trowa stood there, looking as he always did-cool, collected and with a bored expression. He was dressed in a tight fitting black t-shirt over a pair of pin-striped pants, of which were tucked into knee high combat boots that had an highly inappropriate amounts of straps on them. As usual, the bangles, wristbands and bracelets added to the flair that was customary for the goth. Even the eyeliner was thicker than usual, and Quatre narrowed his eyes, wondering what the plans were for Trowa that night. Pictures of the goth and the dance team girl, brazenly fondling each other in a highly dramatized imagery, came to mind.

"It's a home game, Trowa. Aren't you going to watch this time?" he pressed as he shut the door behind him.

"I told you before, Quat. I don't do games."

"Why not?"

"All those people, cheering...happy...insane over public displays of athletic butchery?" Trowa shuddered. "No, thanks."

"But why not?!"

"I just told you, Quatre."

Quatre couldn't help but feel somewhat suspicious, recalling that blond bitch with a frown. He stared at the ensemble, the heavy eyeliner, the careful fall of hair that covered one half of a handsome face. Then he frowned even harder, scowling even, as he began walking toward the stairway. He wasn't jealous. No way, not he. It was just-! Trowa was being so hypocritical! Thinking of that blond bitch's attention as flattery, making no appropriate actions to stop her...He wasn't jealous. But why did the goth have to be so damn attractive in black?!

Behind him, Trowa could tell immediately what he was thinking. He was flattered, yes, but there was no way in hell anybody could distract him from his blond, demonic fanatic. He was hooked, and no amount of tugging was going to get him to let go. He reached out and wrapped his arms around Quatre's shoulders and kissed his cheek. Embarrassed that someone would see them, Quatre pushed him away, stumbling down the stairs.

"But why not, Trowa? I mean, it's a home game," he stressed as they made their way down the various levels.

"Why do you want me there, Quat? I know you're a good player. I know what you're capable of. And even though I know I told you I'd be there for you in every step of your way, I just don't do games. I can't stand sitting up there in the bleachers, pretending to have a good time. I'm going to go out with Drake, tonight."

Quatre whirled on him at the freshmen level. He stared up at Trowa with a suspicious glare, then whirled around and stomped the rest of the way down the stairs. "Whatever!" he yelled, waving a hand over his shoulder. "Fine! Be that way!"

Trowa paused at the bottom of the stairway, then shrugged as he walked off in the other direction. He heard Quatre's huff of breath, looking over his shoulder to see the blond glaring at him from the doorway of the dormitory. There weren't very many people around-they were all gathering in the gym to watch the home game against a very powerful rival, so Quatre was displaying his emotions without much trouble. It was entertaining, and yet pitiful at the same time.

"What, Quatre?" he asked on an air of impatience.

Quatre fiddled with the sleeve of his warm up, then chewed on the inside of his cheek. Finally, after a nervous glance in Lindy's direction (the security guard too involved in her romance novel to notice their confrontation), he blurted, "You're ashamed of me, aren't you?"

Trowa raised his arms in bewilderment. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked on a half-cry, half yelp of exasperation. "If someone's feeling ashamed of someone, it's you of me!"

Quatre grumbled something he couldn't hear, so he walked over, tugging on the thick strap of the gym bag, the blond jerking it out of his grasp. "Quatre, don't be stupid," Trowa said on a sigh. "Seriously, if anyone's ashamed of anyone, it's you with me."

"Whatever," Quatre muttered, as if closing the subject, but remaining in place.

"Look. Just...play like I'm there, all right?"

"But-! Can't you just come to one game?!"

"I don't want to! I don't belong at one of those things!"

"You went with Ralph! You even joined the team to be with him!"

"That was different, Quatre. Don't compare our relationship with that one!"

"But, this is stupid, Trowa! I want you to be there! You're the only one that hasn't seen me really play! I want you to be there!"

"Quatre, really, what does it matter?"

"Trowa," the blond ended on a whine, nearly stamping his foot.

Trowa snorted, shaking his head from side to side. "Where's my independent Quat? The one that couldn't care less if I wasn't anywhere near him? Damn it, Quatre, as soon as we started getting serious, you're like, really needy."

"I AM NOT NEEDY!" Quatre roared in fury.

Lindy looked up with a start in their direction. Embarrassed by the sudden attention to their argument, both boys slunk away from each other, each moving in opposite direction. She watched one disappear into the entertainment area and the other outside, gym bag getting caught within the door. With a shrug, she returned to the bodice-ripping adventures of her virginal heroine.

Quatre grumbled angrily to himself as he stomped down toward the gym, furiously clutching his bag close to him. Would watching one game of his really kill Trowa? What was so wrong with hanging out with the others-? Well, Felicia and Drake refused to participate in any sporting or school event due to their two man protest of the slander of their race as portrayed, so they were held in viable excuse. But Trowa's was that he didn't want to be part of the student body and refused to participate in any otherwise. But that wasn't a good excuse! Quatre wanted Trowa to be there-okay, so he got a little needy...

Trowa made him feel good. In many more ways than one. He was the only steadfast thing Quatre had since leaving home, and once he'd sank his claws into the goth (with much fuss and reluctance, of course), he wasn't about to let go. He didn't feel that he loved Trowa-that emotion was much too strong for this situation. He only felt that Trowa was his, well, his rock. Holding him in place. Of course, it wasn't love-it was comfort. Yeah, that's it.

Quatre shook his head to clear his thoughts upon entering the locker room. He hadn't dressed in his uniform yet, merely his warmups over a pair of shorts and wife-beater. So he walked over to one of the single benches that ran between locker walls and tossed his gym bag carelessly on top of it, nearly hitting Duo. Duo frowned up at him as he tied his shoelaces, he and Hiiro finishing up with their dressing.

Quatre scowled at them, then realized he didn't have any tiff with them. "Sorry," he muttered of his rude entrance.

"Whatever," Duo muttered, rising from the bench and walking off. Hiiro glanced after him, then finished dressing.

"We no longer have Hautta, so Ramos is putting me in his place," Hiiro said in his clipped voice.

Quatre nodded, running a hand through his hair. "Oh. Okay."

"I don't want to be bossed around."

"I don't boss people around, Hiiro."

"I see what you do. I don't want that done to me."

"Whatever, Hiiro."

"Stanton's our biggest rival, Winner. Don't fuck it up."

"Whatever, Hiiro," Quatre muttered as the Japanese left. Quatre knew that Stanton High was Darken's biggest rival, next to Duncan Jones. Stanton was another rich kid academy set in the lower south side of New Park, and had often led the games to wins, much to Ramos' frustration. Ramos had stressed just how high priority this game was, as it determined their rank among the others of their standing.

Quatre really didn't care-he was fairly confident that while he would do well, the others would buckle under pressure to overcome. All he really had to worry about was them fucking up.

He took off his warmups, and withdrew his uniform from his bag. Seeing that there was no one else in the locker room, he tore off his clothes and dressed quickly. For some reason, he just felt violated whenever he changed or showered. It felt like people were watching him, but he brushed that off to pre-and post-game paranoia, when adrenaline ran high. As he tucked his jersey in his shorts, he kicked his slippers off and used one foot to knock his bag to the floor. There, he bent to pick out his basketball shoes, hearing a slight scuff of rubber against cement. The sound startled him, so he straightened quickly to see who else was in the room with him. He saw no one, but the sound was making him rather skittish, so he quickly pulled on his warmups, pulled his shoes on and tied them within record speed.

Just as he was ready to leave the locker room in search of the rest of the team, Triton popped around the corner, armed with his own gym bag. The junior seriously annoyed Quatre to no end, so the blond glared at the taller boy as he passed. Automatically, he covered his rear with one hand just in case.

"Chill out, man, shit," he heard Triton mutter, a heavy gym bag flopping to the cement floor. Quatre ignored him and continued on, finding the rest of his teammates in the coach's room, watching over their recent games on a standardized holographic display. Ramos was pointing out their flaws and weaknesses, trying to cover an hour's worth of practice in ten minutes.

Quatre walked in and stood near the back, crossing his arms as he listened and watched the lecture. The girls were once more dressed in their peppy school decorations, complete with matching makeup and ribbons, and they were giggling low behind their hands as they sat at the edge of Ramos' desk nearby. He frowned at them, hoping they didn't fuck anything up while they were on court, or he was going to make them pay....