Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ I Got Game! ❯ Family Situations ( Chapter 20 )

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...Don't own Crunchberries, Capn'Crunch, Albertson's, Bernie's, Wally World (Wal-Mart)...

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

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

A/N: YES! Thank you, precog74 for that correction. Geez, I really don't know what I was thinking...hmm...but thanks! It's always good to have that kind of verification...And thank you Myca for your very praising review! :sniffles: Er...both of them. ^_^

Chapter Twenty~

"Family Situations" = Chevelle

When the taxi finally arrived, it was snowing heavily, obscuring most of the sights as they were taken from the airport. Trowa stared out the window, watching what he could as Quatre fiddled rather nervously with his bag, staring out the other window. The cab driver was silent the entire time, quietly maneuvering the vehicle through the streets and taking them to the address that Quatre had given upon climbing into the vehicle. As a result, the cab ride was seriously still and quiet, and Trowa felt that if he thought hard enough, the others would hear what he was thinking. Finally, after about twenty minutes of driving through town and what Trowa deemed as psycho-country-wide-open-spaces (cue in Jeepers-Creepers cheap music), the cab pulled off on a dirt road and drove slowly up to a dimly lit house at the end. Trowa noted the wooden fences that hid whatever fields hid, and hunched his shoulders, unsure if he actually really knew Quatre. He wouldn't peg him as a farm boy, and he couldn't imagine the blond riding horses and all that. Trowa glanced at him now, watching as he chewed at his thumbnail with a ravenousness that was similar to a starving child on bread. Reaching over, Trowa swatted his hand from his mouth and wondered if that looked manly enough for the driver to look casual.

Quatre glared at him, but lowered his hand back to his lap. They were pulling up into a paved driveway, and from what Trowa could see, the house was a basic two-story, red brick and with white shutters. Trowa stared as the car came to a stop, and the driver announced their fee. The house was cheery, if not incredibly plain and yet interesting. As he got out, he saw that there were similar houses like it around, all of them clustered within a cul-de-sac. Blinking snow from his eyelashes, he shut the door while Quatre paid the driver, and they both removed their suitcases and such from the trunk.

The driver pulled away from the curb and drove off, leaving the two to stare at the house. Everything was covered in snow, so Trowa wasn't sure if they had gardens and all that typical out-of-the-city look. From what he could see-argh, it was snowing so hard he couldn't see the road they'd taken to get out here-the neighborhood was well off, and yet not well enough to have several cars in the driveway and atypical copy-cat lawn. Christmas was present everywhere with bright lights that were strung on roofs and gutters, with reindeer and Santas that ran along the front lawn. The next house over was completely bare with chipping paint and the one on the right was covered in gravel and decorative boulders. He took a deep breath, and looked at Quatre, waiting for him to make the next move because he was freezing his ass off standing here.

Quatre looked up at him nervously, clutching his suitcase and duffle bag in both hands, his traveling bag slung over his shoulder. Trowa raised an eyebrow, holding his own matching suitcases, his own traveling bag slung over his left shoulder. Well, if that didn't give them away, then what would? Taking a deep breath, Quatre carefully maneuvered his way through the snow to the porch, which was wooden and had such things as red clay pots-from Albertson's, Trowa believed-and comfortable outside chairs that were currently covered in snow. While it was lit, it certainly looked plain as Quatre opened the screen door and rang the doorbell. A holly wreath hung cheerfully from the door, ringing with the bells that were stranded on it. Trowa stood behind him, just outside the screen door, and tried to imagine Quatre living here. While they heard heavy footfalls coming their way, Trowa took a deep breath and readied to defend himself if Quatre's relatives suspected his orientation. He really didn't want this trip to turn out bad.

The door opened, filling with a very tall man with a thick, solid frame. Trowa was used to extremely tall, well built people, but what really stood out on this man was the beard. The thick, black hair decoration ran down from his sideburns, angled at odd spurts of hair at the jaw line, and fell sharply from a presumably strong chin. The rest of his hair was completely black, sticking straight up in stern tufts throughout his scalp. The thick eyebrows rose with surprise, and the squinting black eyes widening with the same expression. Trowa hesitated, unable to see his face clearly within the dim porch light, but he was sure it was a good thing because the man pushed the screen door aside and enveloped Quatre in a hearty, happy hug that looked quite painful.

"Quatre!" he boomed, Trowa wincing at the immense bass. Just imagine what the smaller children thought when they heard that voice being directed at them. "What a surprise! Get in here!"

Quatre's words were muffled by the large man's chest, but when he pulled away, he gestured at Trowa. The man straightened and looked at him, holding the screen door wide open and gesturing at the pair of them to enter the house. Trowa awkwardly shuffled his way into the foyer, which was nothing more than three feet of space that had plain wooden floors. They stomped their feet to dislodge the snow and mud, the huge, hulking man taking their suitcases within his large, capable hands. Trowa looked at Quatre, who was happily removing his layers of sweaters and jacket, but the goth would rather he were comfortable before removing his things.

The house smelled of a recently cooked meal, and something spicy. It was a soothing smell, making Trowa feel rather...comfortable. The man had set their suitcases at a nearby staircase, and looked back at them. From the foyer led a straight hall that emerged into a wide open space where the staircase was, and from the staircase was another hall that led into what looked to be a living room. With interest, Trowa stared at all of the framed family photos that decorated the hall, along with several homey decorations that consisted of cactuses and what looked to be Native American props. Quatre led the way, and Trowa stared at everything around him, sure that he could imagine Quatre being his self here, totally psychotic and yet happy. The man led them into the living room, which was dark save for the blaring images of a television set-television?! When everyone in New Park had holovision?!-and which was very comfortably arranged with a large blue sectional couch that covered nearly every available inch of the room. The television set was a humongous piece that nearly spanned one wall, with movies lining each side of it. All of the walls were decorated with Navajo rugs, Pendleton blankets, and more framed photos, and the carpet beneath their feet was a faded color of peach, and that, too, was strewn with overly large Navajo rugs. The coffee table that sat in the middle of the room was a heavily scarred wooden table that was stacked with candles, wood cedar chips in a basket, and various coasters that were in the shape of daisies.

Amid all the decorations Trowa assumed were the norm, there was the presence of Christmas-from the holly wreaths hung casually in the bay window, the lights that surrounded it, and the tall tree that was wedged between the television set and the wall, bright with decoration and multitudes of presents that made Trowa wonder if they were real presents or just decoration.

There was a doorway leading away from the living room at the end of the sectional, and the bay window was decorated in similar fashion as the coffee table save for a touch lamp that had wolves and snow on their leaves.

Trowa hid his smirk-it was very comfortable. Very...very homey. He felt totally at ease already. There was a woman sitting on the couch, a layer of material on her lap and sewing materials at her side. She looked up from the material, gasped, and set her things aside to hug Quatre in similar fashion as the man. The man dwarfed the large television set, smiling broadly as the woman hugged Quatre. Trowa awkwardly stuck his hands in his pockets and pictured the man and the woman as his in-laws.

"How are you?" the woman cried happily, pulling away. She was about his height, with long, dark hair that was liberally sprayed with gray, the ends dancing over her rather large ass. Her hands were sinewy and worn, the fingernails long and colored with coral. Her face was very round, with high cheekbones, carefully manicured eyebrows that were set over almond shaped brown eyes, and from her ears hung beaded chandeliers of Native designed decoration. When Trowa looked at her, one word came to mind-grandma. It wasn't that she was old-probably in her fifties, but there was something extremely comfortable about her, how her presence just brought one at ease. "How did you get here?"

"My friend bought me a ticket," Quatre said, finally able to speak and indicating Trowa. Both faces turned in his direction, and Trowa felt his face flush at the sudden attention. He wanted to disappear beneath the layers he wore, but had to stay calm when the large man approached him, indicating that he join them rather than stand in the hallway. "Trowa, this is Lana, and this is Rashid. Uncle, Auntie, this is my friend, Trowa Barton. He was going to be alone on campus, but...I invited him to come with me."

"Hello, Trowa!" Lana greeted, moving from Quatre to reach out and shake Trowa's hand. Her hands were soft to the touch, but the grip was firm. He met her questioning, curious eyes, and knew that she was wondering who he really was to Quatre. Instantly protective, he felt his face turn a little stony.

"Hi," he said curtly.

"It's nice to meet you, Trowa," Rashid boomed, almost making Trowa wince at the sound. When he shook the goth's hand, the goth felt suddenly overwhelmed by the strong grip and the way the hand completely enveloped his.

"Same here."

"He's kind of shy," Quatre explained, and Trowa rolled his eyes. 'Him'? 'Shy'? "But...um...is it alright that we're here? I didn't exactly have time to call and----"

"No, it's fine, Quatre!" Lana interrupted softly. "We are very glad you were able to come out. Thank you, Trowa, for giving us the chance to have him home for Christmas. We're very grateful for you."

Trowa shrugged.

"Sit down, sit down, the both of you!" Lana then said, indicating the couch. "Why are you acting like a stranger here, Quatre? You know where everything is...Would you like some coffee or hot chocolate, Trowa?"

"No, thanks."

"Here, let me take your jacket," Rashid said, reaching out for the layers Trowa was hiding under. Trowa reluctantly gave up his warmth, and while Rashid took the layers, he took an available seat at the end of the couch and tried to sit comfortably-but the couch was overstuffed and roomy, and definitely very comfortable. If he could, he would simply turn his head to the side and close his eyes, and he'd fall asleep very happy. Quatre sat at the other end, looking totally at ease as he took what Trowa assumed was his normal position-sitting sideways on the couch, arm over the back and a comfortable closeness with Lana, who was returning to her sewing. Trowa looked at it, realizing he was looking at an actual quilt in the making. The pretty designs and material went together to make what looked to be a queen-sized quilt.

"So what is your school like? What are the people like?" Lana asked, looking at the both of them in turn.

Quatre described in detail what Sophia Darken Academy was like, and while he did so, Rashid came back in, and took a seat near the middle of the section, resuming a position that was totally natural for him and flipping through the channels of the television set. Trowa's eyes flickered briefly to the set and back to Lana's and Quatre's conversation. He kept himself from doing his usual eye-groping of his blond beloved and kept his hands in his pockets because the one thing he'd forgotten about was his black nail polish. When Rashid stopped on an Animal Planet program about a pair of tiger cubs, Trowa found himself yawning, the events of today catching up on him.

The next hour passed in conversation, with Trowa adding his own bits of conversation and answering what questions were directed to him. He kept noting the wooden clock, though, wanting to curl up and sleep as he watched the hands inch to eleven. Damn it, he had been up since one-thirty, traveled through at least two time zones, suffered Christmas travelers in crowded airports, and was still damn sore in the ass. He was cranky and it showed on his face, but because this all benefitted Quatre, he was somewhat content despite the fact.

Rashid interrupted Lana's questions, pointing out the time. Cheering because it sounded like they were going to bed, Trowa roused himself from his dozing and looked around. Quatre was yawning, rubbing one of his eyes, Lana smiling and saying that they hadn't moved anything from his room. Trowa felt a little more awake at this, wondering what his room looked like.

"I'll bring down some blankets and a pillow for you," Rashid told Trowa, rising from the couch and disappearing through the doorway at the end of the sectional. The fact that he was going to sleep on this extremely comfortable couch made Trowa very happy. Lana bid them goodnight, gathered up her things, and walked out into the hallway toward the stairway. Quatre moved over to Trowa, a noted distance away.

"They're really neat, huh?" he asked on a yawn.

"Dude, this place is so neat," Trowa answered, blinking sleepily.

"What were you expecting?"

"I don't know. Outside bathrooms, teepees, one room shacks..."

"Shut the fuck up, you stupid dick!" Quatre laughed, punching him.

"No, seriously. This place is totally comfortable. I like it here."

"Wait until day time."

"Why? Will I be forever changed by the outside view? My life perspectives radically turning for the inspirational?"

"Man...Trowa...you're asking to be hit."

"Please. I'm so fucking tired. I'm going to sleep until four o'clock tomorrow afternoon."

"No, you won't. I'll come and wake you up at five thirty."

"Do it, and die, white boy."

"Stop calling me that-!"

"Here you go," Rashid said, emerging from the hallway with a large quilt and a thick body pillow. He handed them to Trowa, and then bid them good night as he left. Trowa took both things gratefully, kicking off his shoes and immediately rolling onto the longer section of the sectional, pulling the extremely soft quilt around him.

He mumbled a 'night' in Quatre's general direction, immediately feeling himself starting to snooze. Just before falling asleep, he faintly recognized his beloved's lips on his cheek, his soft whisper of 'good night'.

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

The next morning, Trowa awoke to the smells of coffee, light conversation and the sounds of clinking kitchen materials. Totally comfortable and not wanting to move, Trowa clamped his eyes shut and tried to will himself back to sleep. He heard Lana's light laughter and the resounding bass of Rashid's voice. Drawing the blanket tightly around him, he exhaled quietly and buried his nose into the back cushion of the couch. The house was very warm, and yet cool enough to keep the quilt on him. His feet were hanging over the arm of the couch, and he wondered when he had moved during the night. He was closer to the middle section when he'd fallen asleep...

There was the sound of keys clinking together, Rashid letting Lana know that it was nearly eight and she'd better hurry up or he was leaving without her.

"Wait a minute...where's the apple juice?"

"In the pantry."

"I wonder if that boy forgot..."

"Lana, he's old enough to use the phone. Let's go."

Trowa felt his lips curve into a smile, noting the affection that the couple had for each other, and especially the affection expressed for Quatre. He listened to them banter about being grumpy first thing in the morning, and the opening and closing of doors as they left. Figuring they had some obscure job somewhere, Trowa waited to see if he were tired enough to go back to sleep. But his eyes refused to shut, and despite his jet lag, he found himself rising to stretch. There was the sound of the car leaving the driveway, so Trowa felt it safe to venture around without being caught. Not that he was being sneaky and suspicious, but just to learn things on his own. He pushed aside the quilt and wondered where the bathroom was, rising from the couch. He noticed that he had morning wood, so he frowned at the tent he made, and then began walking, reaching down his pants to adjust himself as he explored. The gentle ticking of the clock and the quietness of the house was very soothing, and very different from the life that he had-he was so used to city sounds that it was weird to be listening to silence such as this.

He took the doorway that he'd noticed last night, entering a small hall that led into the kitchen. It was very roomy, with the sink at his left, stretching along the wall and onto the opposite wall ahead of him, with white cabinets and such in place. There was a rug set by the sink area, and kitchen appliances set out on that counter. To his right were the stove and oven, of which hand towels hung from the handle and empty cans lining the top. Peeking into the cans, he saw solidified grease and made a face as he moved through the kitchen. The kitchen was roomy enough for a large dining table to sit comfortably with six chairs around it, giving one enough room to maneuver their way around the stove without bumping into it. There was a small doorway just outside the counter, so he peeked in there and saw the laundry room. There was another door leading out from it, but from the bolt lock and the small window that was covered by navy blue curtains, he guessed that it led out into the back yard of sorts.

He moved through the kitchen to a corner hall that led into the foyer, so he walked over to the staircase. The steps were creaky and the carpet was worn, but Trowa was dead curious about where Quatre was. The stairwell was steep, and he felt his muscles working as he made his way up. The stairway came to a stop at a large hall that had one lone doorway at his right, and at least three other rooms to his left. He moved to his left, curiously noting that one room was the basic office setup, complete with book shelves, computer station, and desk. It was lightly cluttered, with the small trash can full and various binders of sorts lying open on the desktop. The curtains were drawn, making the room very dark and very cool. The next room was actually the bathroom, and this was decorated with light blue material-from the shower curtain with lace lining, to the mats on the floor, the blue clothes hamper next to the wall, and various towels that were hung neatly from the rack nearby. It smelled of country spices, the illuminating nightlight near the sink giving faint light to the otherwise dark room. There was a single window high within the shower, large enough to let air out, but not wide enough for someone to come through.

He moved to the next room, finding this to be a bedroom of sorts, but while it looked occupied, it was definitely empty. He wondered who occupied this room, and figured that it was the guest room. He moved to the next, finding that it was the master, complete with king sized bed, two sets of dressers, a larger bathroom, and the definite feeling that this room would be the one one would come and hide in if things were a little tough. Because there was the feeling of calm, serenity, of just knowing that one would be safe here. He wondered if this is what parents' rooms were supposed to feel like, and felt a little down that he didn't know his own.

He moved away from that room, and ventured toward the one at the end of the hall. Pushing the door open, he emerged into Quatre's room, breaking into a light smile at the clutter that he was used to. There were various basketballs lying about, with a large bookcase to his right, filled with various won prizes in both basketball and...soccer? He played SOCCER? Trowa choked back his snicker and walked onto the worn pale blue carpeting, nearly stepping on what looked to be a worn pair of jeans. His beloved was still sound asleep on a full sized bed that had faded white and blue sheets, and some clothing piled at the end. The window ahead of him was wide open, revealing the neighborhood outside. The dresser at his left was cluttered with some more clothing, deodorant, cologne, and various other things that Trowa would like to snoop through. The worn area rug by the bed was cluttered with shoes, cleats and shin guards, and Trowa shook his head, unable to believe Quatre actually played another sport. The walls were decorated with San Antonio Spurs posters, as well as a few of Manu Ginobuli. There were a few athletic sports posters, and a lone glow-in-the-dark poster of an alien. The room smelled of his beloved and something else that made Trowa frown, pausing as he tried to place the scent.

He saw more clutter on the other side of the bed, but the sleeping figure on the bed drew his attention more. Knowing that they were all alone, Trowa climbed into bed with him, startling him awake.

"Shh, go back to sleep," Trowa whispered, kissing his shoulder, smelling sleep and his familiar scent as he did so.

Quatre grumbled something that wasn't very intelligible, but shifted to give Trowa room and went back to sleep. Trowa adjusted himself on the bed, drawing up the faded sheets and finding himself totally comfortable. With a sigh, he closed his eyes and fell back asleep, totally forgetting that he had to piss.

When he woke up, the room was comfortably worn, and he'd kicked off the sheets. Quatre was snoring beside him, so Trowa nudged him in order to make him stop. The blond simply stopped snoring, shifted to his side, and continued sleeping. Smiling up at the ceiling, Trowa could totally imagine himself and Quatre in the future, elbowing each other in order to make the other stop snoring. Trowa was sure he didn't snore, but Duo had told him otherwise. He rose from the bed, seeing that it was nearly eleven, and he sure did have to piss.

He climbed off the bed and walked over to the bathroom he'd seen earlier, and did the usual morning routine. After that, he decided he was up and wanted to take a shower. He found his suitcase in Quatre's room, so he took out some clothes and his toiletries, and went to take a shower. The water, while warm and certainly strong, turned cold after ten minutes, so Trowa was now wide-awake as he brushed his teeth, fiddled with his hair and stuffed his feet into his new New Balance shoes.

He was dressed in a pair of Union Bay jeans that were held up with a plain black belt and a listing of various bars on Bourbon Street in New Orleans. He walked into Quatre's room, and decided that since he was awake, he had to be awake as well. Trowa climbed onto the bed, and began kissing his forehead, running his fingers through his hair. Quatre muttered death threats and tried to turn over, pulling a pillow with him, but Trowa snatched that away and tossed the blankets aside.

"I'm awake, so you have to wake up and entertain me," he demanded as Quatre curled into a fetal position, shivering slightly. Trowa noticed that the blond hadn't even bothered with changing into bed clothes, but had fallen asleep in his jeans from yesterday and his shirt. He was missing one sock.

Quatre glared at him through half-lidded eyes, then tried to kick him off his bed. Trowa caught his leg and climbed off his bed, pulling the blond with him. "All right, all right!" he shouted, kicking at Trowa to let him go. "I'm up! Jesus Christ!"

Trowa chuckled as the blond stumbled out of the room, grumbling loudly about rude house guests. He walked around the bed to examine more clutter, nudging aside various basketball magazines and Laramie High odds and ends. There in one corner was a simple file cardboard box that was overfilled with various papers, and he wondered what was in there. Moving away from the clutter, stepping on something that broke and made him wince, he paused with his hand on the dresser and lifted his shoe to see that he'd stepped on a glass figurine of a frog. He snickered at that and picked up the pieces. Just as he'd set them on the dresser top, Quatre walked in, blond hair everywhere and bleary eyes taking in Trowa's guilty face.

"Oh, that." the blond shrugged as he hauled his suitcase on his bed and began throwing everything out. "It was on my locker one day."

"You played soccer?" Trowa asked, indicating the bookcase.

"For awhile. I totally sucked."

"Then what are those trophies for?"

"I dunno. What's today? Tuesday...aw..."

"Why?"

"I dunno. Did you look around already?"

"Yeah. Whose bedroom at the end of the hall? The littler one?"

"Oh. Ramid stays there when he comes to the States." Quatre made a face, withdrawing some boxers and jeans from his overstuffed suitcase. He scratched his head with some trepidation.

Trowa made a sound of understanding, and gestured at the rest of the room. "So you're always messy, huh?"

"Dude...shut up. Okay? I clean...sometimes. When Lana threatens me. Look, as long as I know where everything's at, it shouldn't be a problem, right? Okay. I'm going to take a shower. There's stuff in the kitchen, I guess, if you want something to eat."

"I don't know how to cook."

"I don't know, maybe they have cereal down there. Cap'n Crunch! With Crunchberries!" Quatre said cheerfully, his face lighting up at the thought.

Trowa sighed, hanging his shoulders. "Well, fine. Just hurry up, all right?"

"Why? You need me to hold your hand and tell you what to do?"

"Yes!" Trowa said on an exasperated sigh.

Quatre laughed, then left the room with an arm full of clothing. Trowa decided that he just had to draw what he saw, so he rummaged around his traveling bag and withdrew his sketchbook and a charcoal pencil. He then left Quatre's bedroom, descending the stairway and making his way into the living room. He settled himself down on the couch and began sketching all that he saw, outlining the rooms and placing what he'd seen in artful splashes on the paper.

He didn't bother with breakfast, preferring to wait for Quatre to come down and cook for him, so he waited. When the blond finally finished his shower, he raced downstairs and disappeared into the kitchen, chanting "Crunchberries" over and over again. Trowa rolled his eyes and abandoned his drawings, meeting Quatre in the kitchen. He frowned at the sight of Quatre dumping half a box full of Cap'n Crunch into a large mixing bowl and eyed the massive serving spoon the blond was preparing to use. He shook his head, thinking of all the sugar that cereal contained.

Trowa rummaged through the pantry, finding a plastic Albertson's container of breakfast danishes, so he helped himself to a couple and joined Quatre at the table. "So, what do they do? I mean, their jobs," he asked conversationally as Quatre began devouring the cereal he'd poured.

"Lana works as a legal advocate for a nearby domestic violence shelter. Rashid works as an economic planner for the county in the county office," Quatre explained with a mouthful of half chewed cereal.

"Really. That's interesting."

"Yeah."

"They have kids?"

"Lana had four boys from her previous marriage. But one died in a car accident and another's in the military. The other two work at Wal-Mart and Albertson's, but they live with their dad on the reservation. Rashid has three boys, but they're stationed on one of Ramid's oil fields in Saudia Arabia."

"Grandkids?"

"Yeah. Lana has four grandchildren and Rashid has five. Seven boys and two girls between the two of them."

"Ah." Trowa wondered what it would be like to have a big family. He picked at his danish. "And your sisters?"

"Ten live here in the States, and the rest live in Saudia Arabia."

"Felicia doesn't believe me when I said you were Arabic."

"Yeah. I get that a lot. Rashid says that I look more like my mom." Quatre shrugged.

"And she died having you?"

"Yeah. Lana's as close to a mom that I can get. I consider Rashid as my father. Ramid's never around, so...you know."

"Yeah."

"Trowa, what about you?" Quatre looked at him, pausing in taking another massive spoon full of cereal. "What does your sister do, anyway? You acted all embarrassed yesterday when we were talking to Mary."

Trowa shrugged his shoulders. "She's an actress."

"Yeah, but I don't recall seeing her in any movie..."

Trowa cleared his throat. "Quatre, do you consider yourself a healthy boy? I mean, sexual interests and all?"

"Er...yeah?" Quatre looked up at him with a puzzled frown, crunching loudly on his cereal. "Why?"

Trowa took a deep breath. "Let me start from the top, okay? I was two years old and Catherine was about six when our parents died in a car accident in France. We're Spanish, but our parents moved all the time because our father was the type of guy that thought another place was better than where we were. So we moved around all the time. But we were placed in an orphanage in France, and we had a few foster homes here and there. We weren't separated because the officials felt that we shouldn't be. But, when we were older, she became my legal guardian when she was of age. She'd just landed a small role in the entertainment industry, and she worked hard at...it. Well, she was good enough to be noticed by American producers, so they offered her an audition in Hollywood..."

"But I thought you said the orphanage sent you here..."

Trowa sighed heavily. "That's what I told people."

Quatre frowned again. "You're hiding something, aren't you? Letting people think what they want..."

"Just listen, Quat. Anyway, so she got the part. She made good money, enough to have me come to the States as well. She'd heard about Darken, so she registered me there. She's still covering my financial costs because her job pays so well...but she wants another, so she's going to school, to study business management..."

"Trowa...?"

The goth took a deep breath. "She's a porn-star, Quat."

Quatre stared at him for a few moments, then let his spoon fall into his bowl with a loud sound. "Wow, really?! Holy shit! Are you ashamed?"

"No. I just...I just don't want anybody to think that...I don't know. That I'm not following in her footsteps. I mean, I'm proud of her for making her own way, but...damn it, she's a fucking porn-star. It's kind of weird."

"Damn..." Quatre crunched on his cereal in silence while Trowa picked at his danish. Then he watched with some fondness as Quatre tipped the bowl into his mouth and drank up the milk. Trowa shook his head, just imagining what a sugar high the blond was going to be after consuming half a box of cereal.

"Well! What do you feel like doing?" Quatre asked, wiping his mouth and carefully setting the spoon into the bowl. Then, he eyed the sink, preparing to throw the entire thing into the metal container.

"I don't know. How far out from town are we?"

"Just twenty minutes. It really isn't that far. We can call a taxi..."

"Do you feel like going out there, Quat?" Trowa asked curiously, raising his eyebrows.

Quatre threw the bowl from his position to the sink, the mixing bowl landing with a loud clatter as the spoon hit the metal first. "Well, yes! I mean, this is home!"

"Well, yeah, I know, but..." Trowa trailed off, then shrugged his shoulders. "I mean, from what it sounded like, it was really upsetting the way that you had to leave...so I just kind of figured, you know, since you made it sound so..."

"Well, yeah, I'm kind of...scared about that part, but..." Quatre shrugged his own shoulders. "But this is home, Trowa. I mean, I grew up here. I love it here."

"Do you really?"

"Yes! C'mon, let's call a cab, and then-no! Let me call Lana to see if she'll let me borrow her car! No, she probably wouldn't...wait! I'll tell her to come pick us up and drop us off, and we'll catch a taxi this way after we're done! Yeah, that sounds better!" Quatre jumped up from his chair and raced off to find the phone. Trowa sighed heavily, glared at his half-eaten danish, and hoped that things would be as good as Quatre made them sound.

To him, it was as if the athlete was forcing himself to believe that things were going to be fine and he wasn't scared at all. Well, they'd just have to see just how good it was going to be, then.

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

They ended up not going anywhere, but Trowa was fine with that. Lana had decided that they would go out for dinner instead, to a nearby restaurant called Bernie's Mexican Restaurant, and Trowa was a little wary to go out because it was still snowing. He'd never seen so much damn snow before. It was very annoying.

After Rashid arrived home after seven, they bundled up and piled into Lana's vehicle, ready to cruise out to town. Rashid was whining of a headache, but went anyway. That night, Trowa saw how wonderfully comfortable Quatre was with everything, laughing more than he usually did, acting more relaxed and clearly very happy to be back home. He was greeted by people he knew, but once his back was turned, Trowa saw how they whispered and speculated about the scandalous way he'd left. Trowa had wanted to go around and scream that they were acting so childish about the entire thing, that if they had something to say, they should just come right out and say it instead of whispering behind their hands. It was very irritating, and he had to remind himself that Quatre was able to fend for himself. But it just wasn't fair.

Trowa found himself in an internal battle of sorts, wanting to protect the blond from all the mean elements of those he so fondly spoke of, but then again...maybe he was just overreacting because this wasn't his area. Even though, he found himself glaring at those that gave snide comments just out of Quatre's earshot.

The first few days in Laramie, Trowa found himself gradually accepted by both Lana and Rashid, and found himself liking them whole-heartedly. Despite his resolve to keep his distance from the blond by not expressing any affection or such, he found himself needing that contact whenever they were out of ear and eyeshot of the others. Quatre, he found, was a little more reluctant to respond to such things, being in his environment. Even in the privacy of his room, when the adults were away, Quatre was a little reluctant to share a kiss or two, and had even refused to do anything more.

Trowa was a little hurt at this, wondering if having sex had changed things between them when he thought that it had brought them closer. But then he realized that it was because the blond was having an internal battle of his own, questioning himself once more. Trowa was irritated at this, because just when Quatre had finally identified himself and his orientation, and had furthered their relationship with sex, Laramie seemed to turn him back into his reluctant phase once more.

As such, Trowa found himself being held at arm's length away, unable to receive or express affection. Quatre was a little shamed at his own behavior, and tried to make up for it with little things, such as treating him to tours of his own design around Laramie, showing him the University of Wyoming's campus, introducing him to various people, but it just wasn't what Trowa wanted. Trowa wanted him.

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

Since Christmas was on Saturday, they celebrated it with the usual pomp and circumstance, and Trowa found it very enjoyable because he hadn't celebrated Christmas before. He and Catherine exchanged a few gifts in gist of the season, but that was about it. This Christmas, he found himself caught up in the Christmas cheer and happiness, and was surprised to find that Quatre had bought him a few presents during a few of their outings. He'd done the same thing, of course, even managing to find a few things for Lana and Rashid, so by the time they'd gone through the opening of presents and such, he had quite a pile of new things. He was both grateful and yet bashful about the entire thing.

They had a very large dinner-Lana had cooked the turkey and made up fluffy pieces of bread called 'frybread', and while he munched on one, he watched as Rashid and Quatre engaged in a contest on who can eat more in one sitting. By the time Rashid had finished with ten pieces-all of which were bigger than both of Trowa's hands put together and just as thick as pizza dough-Quatre was complaining of a stomach ache and yet happier than he had been at Darken.

Trowa was caught up with the good cheer inside the house, and met more of Quatre's family when they came over to visit the day after Christmas with their families. Rashid's family wasn't able to make it, but Quatre's sisters had mentioned separate visits that weren't planned out too well, so Trowa figured he wouldn't be able to meet them for sure. He met Lana's two sons, Jared and Jeff, both of whom were very tall, very easy going. The two Native American boys were kind of wary of Trowa, because of his hair style and quiet ways, but when they watched Quatre interact with him, accepted him gradually. Trowa, by some mysterious circumstance, found himself then watching over several kids under the age of ten when the 'men' played basketball on the outside court beside the garage.

Which was fine, really. Trowa liked kids, and they really liked him. But he couldn't help but feel entirely domesticated as he held a couple of girls in his lap, a boy climbing on his back, and another drawing multiple pictures in his sketchbook nearby as he watched Quatre play basketball with his older cousins. Amid all the shouts and laughter, Trowa felt that he'd reached a point in his young life where he was very sure that he could see himself and Quatre together for a very long time. This wasn't a quick high school romance-he knew that in his bones. As he watched his beloved play and cheerfully pop wild circus shots from various areas of the cement 'court', Trowa found himself wondering just how he could convince Quatre that their fate as a couple was sealed. Quatre may question himself ten times over, but all through it, Trowa would be there, waiting for him when he was done.

He tried to keep his feelings inside, but how could he really when he just felt the love for the blond build and bubble over through the Christmas spirit? He kept his distance good enough, and even flirted a little with the unattached cousins of Lana's family, finding himself accepted by the females quite readily.

New Year's Eve, Lana and Rashid had planned to go out with friends to a bar downtown, but Quatre was feeling ill due to constantly being outside and working up a sweat with the others, so they were vying to stay home. Jeff and Jared and their respective families had left to celebrate New Year's on their own, so the two were on their own. Trowa had the channel set to MTV, where they had already counted down to the New Year.

"Well, Quat? What's your resolution?" Trowa asked as he glanced over at his boyfriend, who was bundled up in sweaters and a Pendleton blanket, feeling 'cold'.

"For what?"

"New Year's! What do you plan for this year?"

"I dunno," Quatre said on a sniff, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "Um, better grades?"

Trowa snorted as he lifted his ginger ale to his mouth. "Whatever. Like that'll ever happen. You're so retarded you can't even do your homework to save your life."

"Shut up, Trowa! What's yours?"

"I don't know. Find time to date a hot rock star, man or woman, and one day grow my hair out. I want dreads."

"Ew..."

Trowa laughed. "Just kidding. About the rock star part."

"Trowa, that's disgusting. Don't do that to your hair. I'd have to break up with you."

"You would not. You would want the same thing. I can see you with dreads. Maybe dye them brown and keep the blond parts. It would be cool."

"Trowa," Quatre said on an exasperated sigh. "I am not going to have dreads. That's just nasty."

Trowa chuckled, and moved from his position on the far end of the sectional to cuddle up beside him. Quatre protested, looking nervously over his shoulder at the door. Trowa ignored this, reaching up to cup his chin and draw his lips up for a kiss. He so dearly wanted to tell Quatre what he really felt, but while it felt so right, he could only imagine the consequences and didn't want to risk it.

Quatre responded with a tentative kiss of his own, but pulled away, coughing.

Trowa released him, and sighed, adjusting himself to lean against Quatre's shoulders, stretching his shoeless feet on the couch and watching the entirely too cheerful veejays on the television set. He wanted to bring up the subject of Quatre's refusal to engage in physical affection with him, but felt that it wasn't the right time. So, he sighed heavily again and resolved himself not to stress too much about it.

"Trowa?"

"Hmm?"

"Um...I was kind of thinking, you know, over the last few days."

"Did you hurt yourself?"

"No, I-you ask that one more time, buddy, and see what happens, God damn it. NO! Trowa, I'm being serious," Quatre said on a sigh.

"All right, all right," Trowa said, rolling onto his stomach, propping himself up with his elbows underneath his chest, his hands in Quatre's lap. "What is it?"

"Well..." Quatre bit his lower lip, and looked at him with a rather timid expression. "Well, I was kind of thinking...I know..I know I haven't been...well, you know, not at all...well, like how we are at school. You know? All...touching and feeling, and all that..."

"Quat...I know you don't want them to know, so I don't try. But it has upset me that you won't even when we're in private," Trowa muttered.

"Well, I know, but...I don't know. I just feel weird about it because the last time I was here, I was being kicked out because of it. I mean, by my father." Quatre frowned, looking away from Trowa as he shifted his sight to the television set, eyes staring at something he remembered. "Man...I'd never heard Rashid yell like that, before. He and Ramid were really shouting at each other, and Lana was so upset...she was crying. She wanted to go to me, but it was like, Ramid had me in one hand and was yelling at Rashid with the other, you know? And then...I like that you're here, it's just...it's just weird."

Trowa stared at the designs on the blanket, then sighed, pinching at the material. "I understand, Quat. You don't have to continue. I know what you're talking about..."

"Trowa...I know you're...bothered by my lack of attention, I just...wanted to explain, you know?"

"Quat. I know. All right? I know. I'm just happy that you're happy here."

"Trowa...do you...?"

Trowa waited for him to continue, but when he didn't, he looked up at Quatre's face, finding the blond in deep thought as he continued to stare at the television set. When the silence persisted, Trowa nudged his knee with an elbow. "What?"

"Huh?"

"What were you going to say?"

"Oh...nothing. Never mind."

Trowa was intrigued, and raised his eyebrows. "Come on, Quat, just say it. We talk to each other about everything, so why are you being all James Bondish, now?"

"I don't know," Quatre mumbled, shrugging his shoulders and looking away.

Trowa was even more curious and rose onto his knees. "C'mon, Quat! Spill! You can't just not, now!"

"Trowa! Never mind!"

"Quatre Rebarba Winner, you'd better tell me now!"

"Ugh, don't say my full name! You-Trowa Barton...you don't have a middle name, do you?"

"Proud of it. Now, spill it!"

"NO! Trowa, get off me before I have to kick your ass! I'm sick, damn it!"

Trowa chuckled, but wrapped his arms around Quatre's neck and started kissing his cheek, pressing light kisses on the faint freckles he'd counted in the early aspects of his 'wooing', and shifted to kiss and tongue one perfect whorl of ear. He felt the blond shiver in reaction, his eyes closing briefly, a faint blush on his cheeks. The reaction only encouraged Trowa. "You know, they say physical activity really aids in fighting sickness..."

Quatre chuckled at that, liking the way Trowa was kissing him. They were all alone, and he did keep thinking about that other night...in response to that memory, he felt himself growing hard, and was rather sheepish with it. He glanced at the clock, seeing that it was nearly ten. Lana and Rashid usually weren't home until after the New Year, so he looked at Trowa, and met his lips with his.

Trowa didn't care if he got sick, he was just excited that Quatre was responding to him. He took this opportunity to gently push the blond onto his back, shoving aside the blanket in order to lay on top of him, pushing his legs apart to settle more comfortably on him. After a few minutes of this, he realized that his blond had a hard-on, and shifted to reach down and fondle it. It grew harder with his touch, and Quatre pulled his mouth away from his, breathing slightly faster, his eyes closed in pleasure. Trowa watched this expression, stroking his erection outside his basketball shorts, the slick material adding to the sensation.

He then lowered his head, pressing kisses along the exposed throat, careful not to leave marks as he rubbed and caressed Quatre's arousal. He then slipped his hand past the waist band of his shorts, past the boxers, and fully envelope the hot length within his hand, his fingers brushing through pubic hair. Quatre let out a small moan, Trowa's own body responding to this, inhaling his scent as he continued kissing.

"T-Trowa, wait," Quatre managed to say, lifting his head and stopping him from continuing. Trowa removed his hand from his shorts, looking down at him in worry, sharpening his hearing in order to hear if someone was nearby. But Quatre looked at him, shaking his head. "Let's go upstairs. Not in the open."

"Good enough for me," Trowa said on a grin, just glad that Quatre wasn't stopping this completely. He rose from the blond, pulling him up with him. After much adjusting of his clothing, Quatre glanced at the tv as Trowa made his way upstairs, and, for extra precaution, Quatre locked the front door before following the goth upstairs. He was certainly feeling extra giddy at messing around with Trowa, simply because the thought of doing such things in his home, in his room, had that extra sense of forbidden territory about it. They could get caught, or not, and that certainly upped the excitement factor.

He pushed the door open in his room and was immediately attacked by an obviously similar excited Trowa as the goth pulled him into his arms, shutting the door behind him. Quatre returned the hasty kiss, tonguing and licking as Trowa started to undress him. The deliciously naughty feeling made Quatre grow even harder, and it felt as if his skin had heightened in sensitivity, so he found every touch from the goth extremely pleasurable. Whether it was a stroke on his groin, or the feel of his lips against his ear, Quatre found himself whimpering and gasping with building emotion. Trowa was taking the lead, and he let it, too caught up in the heightened feeling of his own sensations.

Trowa led him to the bed, laying him on his back, and undressed just as quickly. Quatre reached up for him, reaching up to run his hands over the flat stomach, the smooth pectorals, and eagerly pulled the goth down on top of him as soon as Trowa rid himself of his shirt. The feel of warm skin against warm skin made Quatre squirm underneath him, pressing his erection against the goth. The slither of his cock against the goth's skin made him gasp softly, and he was eager to press further with this session. Trowa was mouthing kisses over his body, and Quatre wrapped his fingers into his hair, gently pushing him to where he wanted it. When Trowa's mouth enveloped his erection, he let out a soft moan, pushing his cock deep into that moist cavern, Trowa answering the push of his hips with a strong sucking motion.

The need to come was building up within him much too fast, and Quatre tried to focus on other things, but Trowa worked his cock very nicely with his mouth, and with a loud groan of pleasure, Quatre came into his mouth, the strong sucking motions Trowa made making the feeling just more intense. As he came down from his orgasmic high, he felt Trowa's fingers on the pucker of his entrance, and he started, clenching his cheeks tight. But then again...

He relaxed, reaching out to encourage the goth. Slippery fingers rimmed his anus, and he felt himself growing excited at the thought of being penetrated, so he pushed his hips down against the fingers, moaning softly. One of Trowa's fingers pushed past the ring of muscle, and Quatre found himself growing slightly scared, and yet more excited as he adjusted to this new sensation of being penetrated. His body worked against the finger, but he wasn't sure which was more prominent-the fact that he was excited, or scared. But then his body assured him things were fine, and he found himself reacting to the finger by pressing hard against Trowa's hand, encouraging him. He felt terribly wanton, yet somewhat very needy as he began to imagine what it would feel like to have Trowa's cock inside of him, moving in the same fashion as his finger. The thought was terribly exciting, arousing him even further and with much more enthusiasm.

Trowa leaned over him, kissing him, taking his tongue and sucking gently on it as he withdrew his finger and then inserted two. Quatre gasped into his mouth, his head moving back on his pillow as his body reacted even strongly to it. He was growing more nervous, but then it felt so good and he wanted more, so he shifted his hips, pressing against Trowa, grinding against him. He wasn't sure what Trowa was using as lube, and as the thought registered that he could be using his recently spilled seed to do so, the thought stimulated him, making him moan with urgency, the sense of naughtiness heightening and exciting him five times more than before.

"Are you sure?" he heard Trowa whisper against his ear, and he nodded, reaching up to wrap his arms around his shoulders, holding on tightly as he waited for the final penetration. He felt Trowa shift against him, hard, wet cock against his inner thigh, and Quatre squeezed his eyes shut as he felt his hips shifted, the tip of Trowa's curved dick pressing firmly against the entrance of his body. With a low, breathy moan, he felt Trowa push hard against him, entering him only slightly, lubed by only Trowa knew what, and the pain was simply-well, it really, really, hurt. His anus felt like it was splitting further apart, forcefully spread and adjusting to fit over Trowa's erection. He felt the need to push and expel, and his body did just that, resulting in Trowa pushing harder against the muscle to continue entering.

Quatre gave a pained grunt, holding tightly onto Trowa, squeezing his eyes shut as Trowa pushed in even more, invading his body with a painful force. Trowa's body was heavy against his, pinning him down onto the bed, his hot dick pressing entrance through his body and making him feel somewhat full. He felt tears prick at his eyes, and he whimpered painfully, curling his fingers into Trowa's moistened skin. Trowa continued to press into him, stretching him, the entire thing just painful. Quatre allowed himself to cry, pressing his head against Trowa's, trying to keep himself from further crying out as he felt Trowa's cock fully enter him, stretching him and feeling entirely...well, odd. He could feel Trowa's balls against his cheeks, his pubic hair brushing against his exposed skin, and he was aware of the smells, the feel, and the foreign sensation of small pleasure that he was receiving from this invasion. Trowa shifted his head away from him, felt the tears on his face, and kissed them away, licking the salty trails from his face, murmuring soft sex words to him.

"It hurts!" Quatre heard his voice hitch, and Trowa shifted against him, causing twin bolts of pain to shoot up his body, making him cry out again. When Trowa tried to move, Quatre only held him tighter, finding himself crying freely.

"Relax, relax, love. Just relax," Trowa whispered against his ear, shifting again as exquisite sensation ran up and down his body, his cock entirely hardened by the fact that it was being held so sweetly by Quatre's body. He could feel the blond's shaking, the feel the muscle tightening around him as Quatre reacted to the pain by growing frightened. He soothed comforting words into the blond's ear, feeling very disheartened by feeling the blond's wet cheeks against his face.

Quatre wiped his eyes with one hand, but refused to let go of Trowa with the other. Trowa began to pull out of him, but that only increased the pain, so he held Trowa's hips with both hands, forcing him to stop. "It hurts!"

"Let me pull out, then..."

"No!"

"Quat...I can't say here if you're saying it hurts...let me pull out..."

"No! Stay. It feels okay when you're in one place..."

Trowa chuckled slightly, his stomach fluttering against Quatre's. "We can't stay like this forever, Quatre."

"Yes, we can. Stay there until you get soft, then pull out. It hurts, damn it!"

"Quatre, love, that's-okay. Okay, don't move, all right? You feel so damn good...your body's holding onto me, the way your hand does. Squeezing me, tugging at me-you feel so good, I love how you feel against me...I love how you smell...how you taste," Trowa whispered against him, kissing what he could as he spoke, feeling Quatre relax slightly underneath him, breathing evenly. "I love how you move underneath me, how you feel when you're holding me...I love how you sound when you're feeling good, the way your mouth opens with your moans...I love the feel of your legs holding me in place, the way you make little sounds when I'm touching you...I love how you taste when you come in my mouth, and I love the way you sound when you come..."

Listening to Trowa's soft voice, enveloped in the distraction, Quatre felt himself growing rather stimulated by the entire thing, his lover's breath in his ear, his cock in his body. He held onto Trowa's shoulders, and shifted his hips experimentally, finding that although it was very uncomfortable, and still somewhat painful, it felt good in a way. Trowa gave a soft whimper against his ear, shifting, his cock scraping against Quatre's insides. The awkward sensation made Quatre jolt, his legs spreading to allow Trowa more room against him, then he held onto Trowa's hips with his knees, curling his arms underneath Trowa's own and holding his back. He could feel the skin growing slick with sweat, could feel his own sweat beading upon his flesh, slightly coating the bed sheets beneath him. The smell of Trowa's body, the way it felt against him, made him feel emotions he'd never felt before-he wanted to hold himself against Trowa and never let go, but then again, there was something more about it that had him wondering if what he was feeling was something he'd never thought to pin on this relationship.

"Okay, okay, go ahead," he breathed, trying to control his rising panic at more pain. But Trowa moved gently against him, pulling his hips back, pulling his cock halfway out, then moving back in. The sensation was entirely alien, and it was uncomfortable and it still stung, but it certainly felt good. Quatre encouraged him to move again with a rise of his hips and a whimper, so Trowa repeated the motion, pushing himself up from Quatre and bracing himself with both arms on the bed. Quatre held onto his hips tightly with both hands, spreading his knees out and shifting his hips against Trowa's, finding it certainly easier to move now that the initial penetration was completed. Trowa found this encouragement very good, and with a small moan of his own, pulled further out and slammed back in, enveloped by the good sensation he felt upon doing so. Quatre gave a small shout, clutching his arms in panic, and Trowa instantly stilled, worried that he'd hurt him.

Quatre stared up at him, eyes wide and his entire body quivering. "I don't know what you did, but that felt fuckin' awesome!" he exclaimed.

Trowa stared at him in silence, then laughed, dropping his head onto Quatre's sweat slicked shoulder. Then he lifted up again, kissing salty lips. "I thought I hurt you..."

"No, no, I mean, it hurts, but not as much...do that same thing again, all right?"

Trowa snickered, but did as he was told, and found the same reaction as Quatre bucked in his arms, letting a rather loud moan loose from his open mouth. Trowa braced himself against him, arms on the bed, and began moving in a similar fashion. Quatre, in a panic of the rising emotions and feelings that he was experiencing upon the pounding, clutched tightly onto him, his knees closing on Trowa's hips once more. He clung tightly to Trowa as the goth continued to move out and thrust hard against him, jolting his entire body, causing the bed to shake and squeak in protest. He whispered his lover's name, the sound growing steadily stronger as Trowa continued moving against him, feeling his balls slap against his body, the clapping sound adding to the noise already punctured by the moving bed.

He felt himself growing hard, his dick rubbing against Trowa's body as the goth moved over him, and with his teeth clenched hard due to the pleasure that was arising and the fact that he wanted to come, he lifted his hips and found a rhythm with Trowa's thrusting. He braced his feet against the bed, knees lifting, and lifted his hips with Trowa's thrusts. He found himself growing very vocal and uncaring of who heard as they worked together, Trowa's own heavy breathing against his ear and mingled whimpers heightening his entire being.

He wasn't completely sure if he should reach down and touch himself, but Trowa had suddenly picked up his pace and was slamming into him hard, jolting out loud shouts from Quatre as he clung to Trowa's body and tried to reach that pinnacle that was beckoning to him. Without another thought, he reached down between them and began pumping himself, feeling warm liquid shoot into him, coating his insides, but despite Trowa's loud groan of completed pleasure, the goth continued pounding into him with the same fashion he'd used before coming. With a rising moan of frustration that he was just not coming right here and now, Quatre pumped himself hard, squeezing his buttocks, pressing against Trowa. And when he finally came, he threw his head back and shouted loudly, clutching Trowa tightly as his semen sprayed over the goth's stomach and coated his own body.

Their heavy breathing was all that they heard as they relaxed, both of them feeling rather sated and extremely heavy as the remaining effects of orgasmic pleasure wilted away. Quatre felt extremely tired and exhausted, unable to move even if he felt sticky outside and in. He wanted to roll over and fall asleep, faintly realizing that Trowa had slipped his softened member from his body and rolled to the side, off of him.

Quatre managed to fling an arm over his lover, but that was as far as he got. He was aware that he was leaking fluid, and while that in itself was quite icky, he could not get past his sated state, one that made his mind entirely fuzzy, his senses in a state of euphoria, and his entire body exhausted with satisfaction. He wondered if Trowa felt the same way, and felt his eyes roll up into his head, completely drained of doing anything more.

Trowa laid beside him, unable to move as well. His eyes were practically crossed with pleasure, and he couldn't erase his lazy smile as his body felt similar to Quatre's drained state. The feel of the blond, the way he'd responded, the way they'd both worked together in a frenzy...he knew the sex between them would be phenomenal. He just knew it. Now, all that they required was a future's worth of doing it whenever they could, and he would be satisfied. He shifted, but was only able to roll onto his stomach, his arm flinging itself over Quatre's sweat moistened chest. Plaintively, he licked the saltiness from Quatre's arm, but that was about the extent of his activity. He rested his head next to his beloved's, and couldn't wait to get it back up again, because he definitely wanted to do that again.

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

Trowa found himself assisting with Lana the next night, dutifully cutting up various vegetables for a taco dinner and just generally thinking over the night before. After the initial resting, they ended up doing it at least two more times-Trowa penetrating once more and Quatre penetrating him. They were both very sore now, Quatre hiding his 'condition' with extremely baggy pants and the added excuse that he was sick and couldn't move very well due to various aches all over his body. But when the boys would see each other, a secretive smile and look in each other's eyes revealed what wasn't being said, and Trowa felt very reassured that things were back on track once more. This New Year was looking very well indeed for them both.

He was a little wary of all the spices and such Lana was putting into the meat, but was curious of how it would all turn out. Rashid and Quatre had gone off somewhere, Lana complaining that they always 'had something to do' while she prepared dinner. Trowa had tried to escape, but Lana had made a big show of doing things all on her own so he reluctantly volunteered. It wasn't that he didn't want her company, it was just that he had no idea what to cook or how to prepare things. She was very empathetic about it, and as Trowa helped her in the kitchen, realized that it had been her ploy all along to get him alone to talk to him.

He looked at her now as she moved about the stove, adding spices here and flipping tortillas within a black skillet. He had finished slicing up the tomatoes and was working on grading the cheese.

"So, Trowa...how did you and Quatre meet?"

Trowa thought about the first time he'd seen the blond. He had at first been so astonished that someone could have that shade of blue/green eyes, and that his basic appearance was somewhat of a wonder to him. He remembered the way his heart had done a ba-bump ba-bump similar to those in comic books. Even now, his love for the blond, multiplied ten times more by their great sex the night before, made color bloom on his cheeks and a fondness creep into his voice. He couldn't help feeling this way-he loved the blond, and he himself wasn't aware that his face told volumes whenever he had to talk about him.

"He was in my auto mechanics class. He had no idea what he was doing," Trowa answered slowly.

Lana chuckled as she glanced back at him over her shoulder. She noted the color, the way the quiet boy spoke what wasn't being said or acknowledged. She knew instinctively what was going on, but she wouldn't come right out and say it. They had to acknowledge it first before she would address it. She had hoped that with this conversation she would find out, so she began to press on. "He wouldn't. Rashid was always trying to teach him how to do this and that with our vehicles, but the boy just wouldn't pay attention. Always claimed that there was Jiffy Lube nearby, and there were always car garages in which he could pay someone to do his simple work."

"Yeah. That was the first day of class. I didn't actually talk to him until the next day. A mutual friend introduced us."

"Really? I am glad he made friends the first day. He was always friendly, but I wasn't sure how well he'd do in such a different environment. Laramie is so small compared to that city of yours."

"Yeah."

"He was also so very popular here. Had girls calling all the time, he was always out and about with his best friend, and he was always invited to play basketball with other teams and other people...I swear, the phone never stopped ringing for him."

"Yeah. That's what he said."

"So, what is it that you do, Trowa? Quatre mentioned that you're an artist..."

"Yeah."

Lana scrunched up her face and looked over her shoulder at him. She had expected him to elaborate. "I would like to see some of your work."

"I have some in my bag."

"He also mentioned that you'd played sports."

"For a little while."

Lana flipped a couple of tortillas and stirred the meat. She was slowly growing frustrated with Trowa's monotone answers, and the way he never seemed to continue any further with his answers. But that was all right. She'd find out soon enough what she wanted to know.

"It was really awful what his father did to him," she began. "He reacted so irrationally. He didn't even ask for the truth. I suppose, in his mind, what he did or did not do was an act against his upbringing. That, in itself was insulting, because Rashid and I had a very major part in raising him. We did what we could to instill a sense of tolerance, acceptance and open mind in that boy. I thought we were doing pretty well..."

Trowa grunted, stealing a pinch of shredded cheese and stuffing it in his mouth. He knew what Lana was trying to get at, but Quatre didn't call him 'stubborn' for nothing.

"Quatre has always been a very sweet child. He hates to disappoint those that love him. He was always trying to please his father, but this last act of Ramid's sent him over the edge. He was never so... so guarded. He was always very open. Now, you have to pry things out of him with a crowbar."

"I wouldn't know. To me, he's really...moody. Throwing things around one minute, and in the next, he's trying to kiss ass but being really sarcastic about it."

Lana chuckled slightly. "He has a temper."

"I know. I have stitches to prove it."

Lana whirled with surprise. "What?"

Trowa indicated the back of his head. "Here."

"Why?! With what?"

"I deserved it. Really. I said some things I shouldn't have, but that's over with."

Lana stared at him for several seconds, trying to adjust to this piece of information. Then she turned back to the stove. "Hmm," she murmured, finishing with the tortillas.

After awhile, Trowa began in on the lettuce, slicing carefully. It just wouldn't do if he cut his finger and bled all over the place.