Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ I Got Game! ❯ Love Dump ( Chapter 26 )

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: Thankies for the review, Myca! I'm glad you think so of my OC's...frankly, they get a little irritating, even for me. And Middie...I think I've done rather well with her. There is always a girl like her in school, and it's soooo annoying-! BUT! This is high school-or, rather, a form of it-and high schools are FILLED with unbelievable characters! I should know-several of these people I actually know/knew. ^_^ um...I know this story is taking a long time...argh, but I still have more to say!! And do I detect criticism from plah?! If so, that's hella cool. It's nice to know the good and bad!

Chapter Twenty-Six~

"Love Dump" = Static X

Trowa looked pissed today. Quatre wasn't sure what was going on with him, and pulled his jacket tight around him on a grumble. Staring up at the weather, noting that it was going to snow again tonight-wasn't California supposed to be sunny and warm?!-Quatre inched closer to Trowa on the bench. They were sitting outside, on one of the outside benches that weren't covered with cold water from melted snow, and Trowa was sucking hard on one of his cigarettes. Despite the annoying habit that seemed to have mysteriously reappeared due to some stress in Trowa's life, Quatre wanted to be as close to Trowa as he possibly could. He loved being around the goth-the oodles of good feelings he had being with him made him severely addicted to Trowa Barton. He wouldn't say that it was love-just severe comfort. And giddiness. And happiness. And-

"Dude, you're crowding me," Trowa grumbled around his cancer stick, staring off into the distance as Quatre pressed himself against his side.

"I'm COLD."

"Go be cold somewhere else," Trowa growled.

"I don't want to. Trowa, can I ask you something?" Quatre asked, glancing around himself to be sure the coast was clear. He saw that they were the only ones out there, so he nuzzled his boyfriend's shoulder, practically purring with affection upon inhaling his smell. He wrapped his arms around Trowa's waist and gave him a strong squeeze of content.

Trowa used his elbow to shove Quatre off of him. "No."

Quatre stared at him, affronted by the cold way of pushing him away, and at the curt answer. Frowning, he crossed his arms and hunched his shoulders, wondering what Trowa's problem was. Over the past couple of days, Trowa had been awfully pissed, and he wouldn't say why. Frankly, Quatre was wondering if those rumors about him and Felicia were a part of it, but he couldn't take them seriously-! This was FELICIA PASSAGE they were talking about!! She was a total asexual creature! She wasn't desirable or even remotely interesting in that sense! For one thing, she was female. For another, she was manly. And on another, she had absolutely no breasts to google at. Well, he wasn't interested in breasts, but he knew of a lot of guys that were, so he had to think that they were important. But why would Trowa be angry at that? He knew that he and Felicia weren't the type to be interested in each other.

And frankly, this was getting bothersome. If Trowa was affected by those rumors, then Quatre realized that he had to do something about it.

"Trowa," he began, trying to think of a nicer way of telling his boyfriend to stop listening to false things. Then, with a slight smile, he turned to face Trowa, who was sitting on the bench with his legs on either side, facing him. Quatre moved in closer, so that his face was practically inches from Trowa's and subtly began fondling his crotch.

Trowa merely pushed him away, and brought his right leg over the bench to face away from Quatre. "Shut up, Quat. Can't you just sit there without having to open your mouth every second?!"

Quatre stared at Trowa with a startled expression. "Fuck! What are you so mad about?! God, Trowa! Things were running along fine, and then now you're all-!"

"What does it matter? Huh?! God, you were moodier than I am now when I first met you," Trowa muttered, stabbing his cigarette down on the ground, then burying it. He rose from the bench, Quatre following suit. "Can't I be moody every once and awhile?"

"Jeez, at least I told you what was wrong with me!" Quatre exclaimed. "You won't even tell me what's going on with you! And quit growing, Goddamn it!"

Trowa rolled his eyes, looking down at Quatre with a frown. He'd noticed that he had indeed grown a couple more inches, and he figured he was probably around six foot one now. Quatre didn't seem like he was moving in that same direction, standing still at five foot eight. He complained about this constantly, drinking more milk, stretching more, whining that he wasn't getting any taller and that he'd stopped growing. Trowa noticed that his own height wasn't the only thing that was changing. Trowa noticed that he had to shave more often, and that his body was losing some of that boyish baby fat that he had lingering around small areas of his body. But then again, he could be getting paranoid about that as well, so who knew?

"Or what? Are you going to punish me because I'm having a growth spurt?"

"Well, I was kind of thinking about it...anyway, that's not the thing, here. The thing is, why are you mad at me? Seriously, Trowa," Quatre added softly, trying to look as non-confrontational as he could. He reached out for Trowa's hand, holding it within both of his and tugging the goth to hold him in place. Actually, he wondered if he could call him a goth, because as of lately, Trowa hadn't been wearing his usual eye-makeup. And he was wearing more colored pieces. But then again, he wasn't exactly sure what 'goth' meant, anyway. Trowa was his only real example, and he was changing.

Trowa looked down at the imploring face before him, then sighed. "Look...I'm just...I'm just bothered by what people are saying about you..."

Quatre flung his hand from him with a forceful throw. "Are you fucking kidding me?! Fuck, Trowa! I can't believe you'd actually go and think that she and I are messing around!! That's totally untrue! It's inconceivable! Do you really have that much faith in me?! Damn it, Barton, I'm GAY! I don't like girls that way!!"

"Well-! Who says that you can't try, huh? Everyone slips up sometime!"

"But it's not true in my case, Trowa!" Quatre shouted, throwing his arms up into the air. "Goddamn it! I can't believe you think that of me! I can't believe you, Trowa! Why?! Why are you letting that shit bother you?! Stop it!"

"Quat, I can't help but believe it when you two are all over each other!" Trowa roared.

"GOD! Trowa, she just does that to annoy me! And, fuck! I can't help but think of her as a fuckin' boy!"

"Which means it's okay for you to go with her because if she's a boy, and you're GAY, then it makes it entirely OKAY!"

"NO! No, NO, NOOOO!! It doesn't! Goddamn, Trowa, you're so hard to talk to when you think of the stupidest shit to say," Quatre muttered, turning away from him and moving toward the main school building.

"Don't you turn and walk away from me!!" Trowa yelled, catching up to him, reaching out to yank him back. "You keep doing that! Why do you keep doing that?!"

"Because, Trowa, it's so hard to let you know things when you have your mind set on them!" Quatre shouted back, yanking his arm back. "And if you're going to freak out about something that isn't true, then maybe you should take the rest of the afternoon off and think about it! Because I am NOT cheating on YOU, and I would NEVER think of doing so! You don't even trust me, you don't have any faith in me-! How do you think I feel?!"

"I...don't know."

"It makes me feel like shit, Trowa! Like I'm not adequate enough for you!"

Trowa sighed, shaking his head as Quatre caught his breath, staring up at the face he'd grown so used to looking at. He could never get tired of it. The green eyes, the curved lips, the straight nose...he thought he had it pretty lucky to have such a good looking guy as his boyfriend. But then, Trowa's insecurity bothered him, too. He could understand why-that thing with Ralph Curt had him all shaken up. But then again, why didn't Trowa trust him?! Had he ever given any indication that he was capable of cheating?! Quatre couldn't even imagine doing such a thing to him! Ever! And it was totally unfair that he would.

"Look...all I'm saying, is that...I...I don't know, Quat. I just don't want it to happen. I-Quatre, before anything else happens, I need to say this!"

"What is it, Trowa?"

"Quatre, I lo--!"

"Hey, guys! What's up?!"

"Yeaaaarrrrgggggghhhhhh! DIIIIIIEEEEE motherbitch!!!" Trowa screamed, turning and running at the suddenly scared William, who'd innocently walked upon them. One glance at Trowa's murderous expression and sudden sprint sent the terrified sophomore in the other direction, screaming.

Quatre stared, wondering what the fuck Trowa was on to act that way. Then, he shrugged and tagged along, figuring he may as well as watch Trowa beat someone else up for a change.

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

Middie huffed as she flounced into the gym, dressed in her dance team uniform. She smiled at all the cute military guys that instantly looked in her direction, seemingly devoid of female attention. She was grateful that her forehead had healed, and she was back to her normal, cute self. Tossing her blond curls over her shoulder, she walked toward the second level of the gym, clutching her bag. Two military guys, one with a cute smile and another with very nice green eyes-but never as nice as Trowa Barton's-grinned at her and said 'hi', much to the annoyance of a military girl with a big rack nearby.

Middie entered the gym, glancing around to see that some of the team members from Darken were there, either sitting at the bleachers doing homework or shooting, as Triton Bloom was doing. Which reminded Middie, she had something to talk to him about. She deposited her Louis Vuitton purse underneath a group of cheerleaders' things and walked over to him, clearing her throat to catch his attention.

He caught the ball that bounced off the rim, looking down at her. He was nicely attractive, she had to admit. Tall body, friendly violet eyes, pitch black hair that was neatly trimmed to fall on the sides of his face, and it helped that he was a flirt. Middie knew she could stand here and flirt with him the entire time and have him eating out of her hand by the time he had to leave, but there was something about him that made her a little nervous. She didn't know what it was, but it was kind of exciting.

"Hi!" she greeted cheerfully, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Are you excited?"

"Yeah. Nervous, too. They're tough!"

"I'll bet they are. Being military and all," she said, rising to her tip-toes then falling back on her heels. "So, what are you going to do this weekend? Are you going out with Duo and the others to Dougie's?"

"Maybe. Wasn't planning on it, though. I thought I'd stay home," Triton replied, shooting the ball. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing much. I wanted to ask you something, so can you come with me?"

"Yeah, I'll come with you."

Middie grinned at the obvious double entendre, and took his hand as she led him off the court to sit at the bleachers. They arranged themselves into a comfortable seating order on the first bench, watching the gym fill with spectators. "So, I hear you really like Quatre Winner," she began, mind working furiously.

Triton gave a snort, dribbling the ball off the bench. "Who said that?"

"Well, I kind of heard it from somebody...and I was wondering if it were true," Middie said, raising her eyebrows as she peered into his face. "I can help you, you know?"

"Aren't you the one obsessed with Trowa Barton?" Triton asked, sure that he'd heard something along those lines from Duo.

"I wouldn't say 'obsessed'!" Middie laughed. Then she turned serious, looking at Triton pointedly. "But I do know what it's like to really like someone you can't have..."

Triton stared at her, blinking, wondering what kind of game Middie was playing. It was obvious she knew of his infatuation with Quatre-but to what degree? And what was she getting to? Suddenly, he felt very wary, very iffy of her motives. He held the ball against his thigh, thoughtfully chewing on his bottom lip as he took in the scheming green eyes, the 1940's styled hair.

"Ookay..." he said slowly. "What do you mean by that?"

"I'm sure you know what I mean, Triton. I've been watching you. I think you're really hot," she said, grinning and tilting her head in a innocent manner. "But I don't think you're interested in anyone else. You're always checking him out. Watching him. It's kind of creepy."

Triton felt a little heat rise to his face at the thought of someone noticing what he did when he thought no one was looking. But as such, he felt affronted, setting the ball between them. Middie was something else, that was for sure. In a way, he thought she was more psycho than he was. He indicated for her to go on.

She intertwined her fingers, bending them outwards. "I want to ask you something. And you have to be truthful, all right?"

"Whatever," Triton muttered, glancing around to see if anyone could hear what was going on between them.

"If I could promise you that you can have him, without any trouble at all, would you take that opportunity?"

"Er..." Triton stared at her, truthfully a little hesitant to where this was going. "I don't...I really don't know where this is going..."

"Oh, don't worry about it, Triton," Middie said, laughing. "Don't think I'm proposing to do something entirely baaaaad. Just...think about it. Think about it a little more. I know, like, seven other guys that would take this opportunity once I introduced it to them, without hesitation. Think on it, okay? And when you decide you want to be serious about it, come to me. I'll take you in, any time."

She rose from the bench, and flounced off, calling a greeting to Relena and the others as Triton stared after her. Frankly, he wondered if he should be afraid of the girl-he had an idea that what she was going to propose to him wasn't a good one. And it made him feel nervous, scared, but then at the same time, incredibly thoughtful. He did want Quatre Winner-but he hadn't decided on what reason. If Middie could get Quatre for him, then...should he take it?

Whichever, the entire incident left him creeped out. He rose from the bleachers and made out onto the court once more to begin shooting again. He'd have to be careful around that one.

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

The gym was already filling with various media two hours before the game, and he couldn't find Trowa anywhere, so Quatre went to the gym early. Mostly to see if he could catch Jamie before game time. He wasn't worried about Trowa showing up-after all, Trowa never did show up to any of his games after that one time with Stanton.

The Duncan Jones team was already there, still dressed in casual outfits and lounging around the gym, their coaches and such milling about and keeping order. Quatre paused as he walked into the gym, hefting his uniform bag up his shoulder as he studied the tall, well-built guys that milled about, laughing and joking amongst each other as they took a small tour of Darken's various trophy cases. He spotted Jamie talking to another guy at the end of the room, so Quatre deposited his bag near the kitchen and walked over.

Jamie turned, seeing him, and gave a wide grin. "Hey! What's up, man?! I haven't seen you in like, forever!"

"Yup, same here," Quatre said, grinning back as they hugged very briefly in manly greeting. "So? What's been going on in your life?"

"Hey, aren't you supposed to be growing?" Jamie realized, frowning as his friend walked away. He held a hand over Quatre's head, indicating the shortness of the blond to him. Quatre kicked his shin in reply, and Jamie missed that abuse. It had been far too long...

"I KNOW, all right?! Anyway, what's going on?"

"Oh, same ole-same ole. What'd you do for Christmas?"

"I went back to Laramie...."

Jamie's eyes widened, and he shook his head. "Oh, no way. Did you really?"

"Yeah...and, uh, I got into a fight. With Timothy and the other jocks..."

"No way...shit...Quatre..."

"What? They started it," Quatre grumbled, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "It kind of made me feel bad, you know? I mean, we were doing that kind of thing to the...well, fags over there, and to have it done on you...it wasn't very nice."

"Christ....no....shit, did you get hurt?"

"No. And then my father showed up."

"Are you fucking serious?! Dude, let's go sit down over here, and talk, man. I haven't talked to you in so long!" Jamie said, throwing an arm around Quatre's shoulders and leading him to one of the various bench-tables that were set about the area. They sat down, and began talking, learning and relating what was going on in each other's lives. As they talked, the gym continuously filled with various fans, students and media, giving a sort of pressure that both teams had better perform as they were hyped to be.

Across the room, Ralph Curt was sure that he'd seen Quatre before-but it just wasn't registering with him. He was standing with his teammates, Adam Bryons and Ian Peters, both of whom were commenting on the obvious lack of boys on Darken's golf team, and so weren't paying attention to him as he stared at Quatre. For some reason, Trowa came to mind. Trowa...

The banged boy had been on his mind since their last encounter at Jimboy's. Frankly, he was a little disturbed at the change the boy had made, from somewhat normal to downright freaky. And it was embarrassing, because a couple of the guys on the team knew that he'd been with him, and----well, it was just embarrassing. They already thought he was a fruit-Adam Byrons really hated homosexuals, and while his best friend was somewhat appeasing of the notion, he was in the same stall as Adam. And Ralph really liked the two-they were funny, serious, and very hardworking individuals.

The first time he'd come to Darken, he was impressed with their maturity. Adam and Ian had been on the streets in full patrol gear since they were thirteen, armed with the latest modern technology to keep control over the aliens and nonsense that roamed New Park City. Now at twenty, they were the ones that hunted down and arrested hard-edged alien criminals that flew out to Earth to escape justice in space. They were the ones that caught themselves in very real gun battles between gangs on the street-they were hardcore, and Ralph looked up to them. So, of course he was going to deny that he was with another boy, and that he wasn't interested in the male sex at all.

But lately, all he had been thinking about was Trowa. Chris even sensed his switch in moods, and was a little whiney about it, but Ralph couldn't help it. He missed looking into those green eyes, full of the need to be understood and wanted. Ralph missed the arguments they used to have, the way the boy would tag along with him just to stay on his good side and just to hang out with him. They didn't really do anything-Ralph, while liking the fact that Trowa was totally into physical intimacy and tried pulling him in that direction with subtle hints, was a little iffy on that aspect. He liked the boy well enough to kiss and make-out with him, but when it came down to sucking each other off or fucking up the ass-well, that was kind of weird. So he met Chris and things were right again.

But now that he was here at Trowa's school, he found himself unable to get the green eyed boy from his mind. He really wanted to see Trowa, maybe talk to him about some things, but he didn't know where to find him and that blond kid was so damn familiar, but he just couldn't place him.

So, he stood with his friends and tried to remember why he was so familiar.

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

Sometime, nearly an hour later, Quatre and Jamie rose from their table, saying brief goodbyes and jokingly threatening each other once they met again on court. Quatre retrieved his bag, looking up to see Felicia walking in through the front entrance doors, looking rather nervous. Quatre's eyes lit with some joy as he veered over in her direction. Without thought, he wrapped his arms around her in greeting.

"Ew, get off me!" she exclaimed, shoving an elbow into his gut.

"What are you doing here?!" Quatre asked, letting go of her. "I thought you didn't do games!"

"Er...no...real reason. Just thought I'd come and check out the hotties in uniform," she said, eyes dancing on everyone within the area. Quatre noticed the way she was suddenly shy, the way it looked as if she had fixed herself up.

Tonight, she was wearing a black turtleneck, knee brushing leather skirt, and knee high boots with mid-heels. Her hair was pulled into a casual ponytail, her makeup wasn't as harsh-oh, gosh, she was without red lipstick?!-and she smelled of that same musky fragrance she'd worn that one time. She was very pretty when she toned down her image, and Quatre couldn't help but wonder why she would...With a slow realization, he reached out and slugged her arm.

"Oh my God, you're crushing on one of them, aren't you?!" he exclaimed as she rubbed her arm.

"So?! Anyway, not really. I just...know him. Kinda figured I'd come in an' bug him, y'know? Maybe throw off his game, or somethin'...er...never mind."

"Who is it?" Quatre asked, turning as he scanned the faces of the military boys, all of whom were basically nondescript, and normal looking. No good-looking bunch of boytoys, here. They either had very short crewcuts, built frames that bordered on scary, or they were just kind of good-looking. Actually, as he searched, he really had no idea what type of guy Felicia was into.

"I ain't tellin' you! Aren't you supposed to be dressed?" she added, gesturing at his clothing. "The game only starts in an hour..."

"Geez, mom," Quatre rolled his eyes. "Come with me."

"Into the locker room?! Okay!"

"No! Upstairs to the gym..."

"Fine. You want me to hold your hand while I'm at it?"

"Yes, please. I might get lost," Quatre said with a heavy lisp, daintily taking her pinky. She laughed and shoved him away from her.

"Fuckin' idiot," she muttered as they made their way toward the stairway that would take them upstairs. "Hey, where's Trowa? Maybe if we're in public, people won't talk about us as much. Seein' as we're together an' all..."

"He doesn't come to these things, Felicia!" Quatre said on a sigh, moving to walk up a step when he realized that his friend was no longer at his side. Frowning, he turned to see that a rather tall, somewhat stringy guy from Duncan Jones had her in a bear hug, dragging her away from the stairway. She looked rather peeved and yet alarmed as she struggled to get away. Quatre started forward, wondering if she were being attacked until he realized that the girl knew him.

She grabbed one of his arms, made a fierce tugging motion downward, and threw him over her shoulder and onto the floor. He simply laughed as she stared down at him with a huff. Quatre was intensely curious as to what this guy meant to her-the guy's very presence made her cheeks suspiciously pink, her entire mannerism changing to that of a nervous girl.

Frankly, Quatre was very interested in this little scenario-it was obvious they had something going on between them, and he wanted to know the entire story. The guy rose from the floor, chuckling as his two friends shook their heads and muttered how dorky he was. The guy was familiar enough-he had very friendly blue eyes, dirty blond hair that wasn't a crew cut like the others' were, and he had somewhat of a large nose. While he was attractive enough on a level for a pleasant stare, he wasn't exactly handsome enough to keep one's interest. Quatre actually recognized him as being the one that had forced Ralph Curt from his and Trowa's table at Jimboy's a few months back. Quatre looked at the other two, then recognized Ralph Curt. He frowned, remembering their last encounter, and Ralph caught the expression, frowning back. Then, some flash of recognition caused the brown eyes to widen, and Ralph opened his mouth to say something, but their coach was calling for all his players to join him in the locker room. Without preamble, all of the military kids moved away from what they were doing and moved up the stairway, practically smooshing Quatre against the wall. The guy talking to Felicia said a quick goodbye and followed, leaving her practically speechless.

Quatre moved away from the stairway, grinning as he wrapped an arm around her neck. "Who was that?!" he exclaimed. "Is that the love of your life?!"

"NO!" she hollered, shoving him away from her, but her cheeks were a suspicious pink. "No! No! No! He's just a guy I know!"

"It doesn't look like that to me!" Quatre laughed. "You're in love with him! You want his babies!"

"NO I DON'T!!" she shrieked. "Shut up, Quatre!!!"

"You ARE! You're BLUSHING!!"

"It's hot in here!"

"Because of that guy, huh?! HUH?!"

"NOOOOOOO!"

Quatre laughed merrily, tossing his head to one side and mimicking Trieze Kushranada's dainty way of walking. "My name's Felicia Passage, and I want ten million of soldier-boy's babies! And I'll name them all 'Junior'!"

"You fuckin' fag! Fairy!"

Quatre laughed a little more. "Okay, okay, sorry, sorry. I was just teasing you. C'mon. Let's go up there so you can oogle his goodies while I get ready. Then we'll try to set you up..."

"I ain't getting set up with nobody," she muttered as she walked with him up the stairway. She then grinned, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. "But I can do it with you!"

"Gross. I don't know, man, that's just fuckin' gross," Quatre muttered as they moved through the crowd that was in the gym.

"Aw! It's crowded! Damn, I have to go find a seat-! Wait a minute! What the hell did you just say?!" she demanded, grabbing his shirt. "Did you just say I'm 'gross'?!"

"Yes, actually. Let go. I need to change."

"Good. Because I think you're quite icky, as well. All pale and shit. Get a tan."

"Grow a dick!"

"Better than yours!" she shot back, walking off to find a seat.

Quatre snorted, shaking his head as he moved to enter the locker room. The gym was already filling up, the seats hurriedly being taken by those wanting to watch the game, and it made him feel nervous. Like he had to prove something to everyone tonight. Sure, he was a little nervous for the Stanton game, but this one-with all the hype and the media that were posted about, he felt more pressure than usual. Which was okay, because he could handle that sort of thing on-court. But he couldn't help but feel that maybe he was going to be a little more than inadequate once he set foot on that court...

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

The game had started intense-the two tallest players on both teams, Triton and #72, had both connected the ball during jump ball, and the resulting chaos ended up with Quatre in possession of the ball, hollering for his team to get into formation. He noted that Jamie was now playing shooting guard, and Peters, #25, was point. Peters was barking out orders in a somewhat familiar way, his team automatically shuffling into man-to-man guard, with Peters jumping into Quatre's path with familiar determination. Quatre kept the ball from him, dribbling around the tall, stringy frame and passing quickly in Hiiro's direction. Hiiro caught the ball, dribbled quickly around #30, and shot to Triton, who fought hard to put the ball into the basket. But the taller players on Duncan Jones were there, blocking the shot, one of them hurling the ball outward to Peters. Quatre dove for the ball, pulling it back into his possession, and shooting a three. It made it through the net, Darken's crowd cheering loudly for the first points made by their team.

Quatre directed the team back into 1-2-3 formation, Hiiro disagreeing with a shout. Quatre glared at him from over his shoulder, #25 already taking the ball from inbounds possession and moving their way. Quatre took his attention off of Hiiro and moved to intercept #25, hearing the squeak of shoes behind him. #25 dribbled around him, firing a pass through Triton to #47, who put up an easy bank shot from there. A little more than annoyed that the ball had gone in so easily, Quatre glared at Triton, and positioned them into offensive mode. They all crowded the Duncan Jones players down court, Quatre shouting for man-to-man. #25 was already on him, long arms moving here and there, keeping up with Quatre's shuffling pace. Quatre wasn't bothered by his close proximity, needing to know that his players were in position so that they could make the points. Seeing that Duo was open, Quatre passed to him, cutting through the middle of feuding players to retrieve the quick pass-back. Seeing that Hilde was wide open, Quatre tossed the ball to her, the short haired girl putting the ball up with an easy leap.

Barely a point ahead of Duncan Jones, this style of play continued into second quarter, the crowds going wild, cameras recording every move everyone made.

Quatre kept moving easily, directing his team into keeping up the intense level of offensive strategy, wanting more points than working on their defense. The points were steadily rising from both teams, but Darken was still one point ahead. The high level of play was wearing out a couple of Darken's players, so Quatre quickly gestured at Ramos for their subs. The coach immediately went about as requested, sending in Sally for Hilde. Satisfied that Sally would be a better choice against Duncan's single female player, #23, Quatre approved of the subbing and immediately went back to intense crowding on #25, already designating him his most top priority, as the junior was the more threatening member of the court. He knew had to take command, his players respected him, and he was easily the more talented player they had. The others knew how to guard and make points, but this guy, as well as Quatre, knew how to arrange that. It was like playing against himself.

#25 dribbled from one hand to the other, and used his right shoulder to plow through Quatre's defense, sending him stumbling. He continued onto the hoop, making an easy shot, his height and his leap allowing him to touch the rim as he did so. Quatre stared in rising annoyance, muttering, "Show-off" under his breath as he took the ball from an inbounds pass. Turning around, he assessed the situation, finding that Duo was wide open despite the man assigned to him.

Quatre reached up to pat his head with a couple of taps, the players immediately breaking forth to set up for a Zone maneuver. Duo popped out at the three point line, Hiiro moved into his previous position, Triton moved out, and Quatre was wide open to make a neat layup once he was given the ball. The crowd cheered loudly as Darken players headed back court to set up for their defensive play. Quatre hung onto #25, clutching his jersey out of the ref's sight and shuffling with him as #25 searched for a way to pass out. #72 was in the open, so #25 moved to pass it over Quatre's head. Quatre leapt up, tipping the ball out of its flight path, and Zechs was immediately retrieving the ball in mid-air, hurtling it at Duo, who was making a quick break down court. After he made an easy three, giving them leeway ahead of Duncan Jones' scoring, Quatre felt a little comforted in the fact that they were doing rather well.

#25 chuckled as he moved to catch the inbound pass. "You jump pretty high!" he commented, sounding neither angry or annoyed about it, but genuinely nice. Still, Quatre kept his guard up, not wanting to be pulled into some sort of trap the point guard could play, and not wanting to be friendly with his opponents on the court.

Quatre merely nodded in reply, and moved in on him once he received the pass. #25 concentrated on his next move, dribbling one way, then the other, and then tearing down the court, his longer legs overtaking Quatre's own speed. He passed it off to Jamie, who then passed it quickly to #72, who made an easy dunk over both Triton and Winnie. Quatre sighed, wiping his forehead with his wrist guard. Really, that wasn't to be helped, because #72 was pretty tall, and he was pretty dependent on getting the ball in.

Quatre took the ball on inbounds pass, then dribbled around #25 in a speedy move that had him switching hands as soon as he bypassed the taller point. He then switched to his right, driving right through the middle of the court, the others momentarily stunned as he ripped right through them, making an easy layup. Duncan's coach screamed at their momentary lapse of paralyzation, and Quatre indicated for a half court press. Himself standing just beyond the front court's free throw line, he waited for #25 to receive the ball and come down his way.

He turned to move with him, but fairly bounced off #32's set screen. The kid's muscular statue and set stance set Quatre back on his ass on the court, but with a companionable smile, helped him back to his feet. Despite their good nature and somewhat fair tactics on court, Quatre still wasn't going to get friendly with them. He accepted the help and moved back into position as the ball became victim of a tug of war between Duncan's only female, #23, and Sally. Sally ripped the ball from the girl's arms, and tossed it to Quatre. Quatre ran to the ball, snatching it just before anybody else could, and turned to dribble down court, the other players following at a mad pace.

He faked a shot, a Duncan Jones player sailing past, and made a shot. Seeing that they were still ahead by at least six points, Quatre indicated full court press, Ramos yelling at him to make it half court. Quatre ignored him, pointing at Hiiro to take on #23, and for Duo to take on #32. Sally was already covering #47, and Triton on #72, so he turned to focus on #25. #25 eyed his options as he began dribbling, then signaled with a pat on his shoulder, the players on his team suddenly switching positions, causing Quatre's own teammates to become confused, moving half-heartedly against those that were switching position.

"Stay! Stay!" Quatre yelled as he kept up with #25, who shifted the ball to #32's handling, and took Center. Quatre hung onto the back of his jersey, using his body to push at the taller player as the ball came under the net.

The ball sailed overhead, moving to touch the backboard, and the taller players began leaping upward, to either block or assist. Quatre watched carefully as the ball bounced off the rim, and he leapt within the fray, tugging the ball into his possession and sprinting out of there, hurling the ball to Duo. Duo made an easy layup, and Quatre noted that they were still safely ahead.

#25 chuckled as he took the inbounds pass, wiping his forehead. "You're good!" he said. "And fast! Sometimes I don't see you..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Quatre muttered as he watched the ball. He heard the sound of a screen being set up behind him, and so he ducked extremely low, finding it hard to do so with his added inch, and just as #25 moved around the screen, Quatre had his arm out and was swatting the ball out of his possession. In confusion, #25 stumbled over the loose ball, and Quatre pushed himself across the floor to retrieve it, covering it with his body. The ref's whistle rang, for the second time that game, and it was declared a jump ball.

Quatre rose from the floor, rolling the ball over to the ref nearest the sidelines, and walked over to set himself in position. Duo took the ball, and passed it in to Hiiro, who passed it quickly to Triton. Triton dribbled quickly, making an over the back pass to Duo, who made a quick jump shot over #32's head. The crowd was screaming, and Quatre shook his head, realizing that it was much too easy for them to be doing this to a team that was described as 'undefeatable'. Really, it seemed that they were toying with Darken, and he wondered about the real story, when they were going to start really playing.

Then, he heard the buzzer, turning to see that four players were being subbed into the game-Ralph was one of them. Wiping his face with his collar, he felt Jamie's companionable swat on his back as he exited the floor, and he watched with some apprehension as Ralph eyed him with a sort of suspicious stare, listening to something #25 was saying.

Ralph took the ball for an inbounds pass, and set up down court for an offensive maneuver as Quatre stayed on #25. #25 took a deep breath, dribbling in one place as he directed his players into position. Quatre swatted at the ball, trying to distract him and to pull it into his possession, but #25 suddenly dribbled around him, using his height for an advantage. With a dull curse about his height, Quatre ran after him, staying with him after he'd passed the ball to Ralph, who quickly pivoted around Hiiro and made a three point shot.

After this, things seemed to pick up more-Ralph was apparently their best shooter. In frustration, Quatre stayed on #25 and tried directing the other players to double team the quick shooter, but every time he felt that Ralph was fully covered, the boy made a shot that proved true. He watched with a sinking heart as their score inched over theirs, and in frustration, signaled Ramos for a change-up in players. He complied instantly, signaling for a substitution in the players, besides Quatre, on the court. Subbed for Triton was Winnie, for Hiiro was Manny, for Sally was Hilde, and for Duo was Zechs. A little more confident with this particular lineup, Quatre directed them to keep man-to-man, and to double team Ralph when they had the chance.

Then, during the second quarter, the score reading 16-13, Quatre found his opportunity to cover Ralph. Ralph must have had some animosity after their last encounter, because the moment he was given the ball, he threw an elbow into Quatre's face. Just barely shifting to the left to avoid a sure shot to the nose, he felt the sweaty limb brush against his cheek, and moved in at the lunge to swat the ball out of his hands. Instantly loose, Quatre threw himself at it, pushing himself into a running dribble. Ralph was on his ass, practically breathing down his neck, so he threw a between the legs pass to a nearby Zechs, who made a jump shot from free throw.

Ralph muttered something Quatre couldn't hear, but before he could reply, #25 was on him as easily as he was at Jimboy's, whispering something that made Ralph wince and turn away. Quatre wondered about this team-they were playing so clean, so rigidly, and yet were so easy to keep each other under control, keeping them from reacting to something that Quatre felt he would do something about. Their comradery, their companionable pats and comments to their opponents, threw Quatre off. He was so used to playing with dirty players that to actually encounter one that played clean was more than unnerving.

But, he continued to play with as much push and shove as he could, using his speed and skill to get around the taller, stronger players. He played both first quarters, unsatisfied with the way they were suddenly unable to pick up any more points, due to Ralph's sure shots and Darken's suddenly faltering ones. Halftime popped up before he knew it, and he left the court in disappointed spirit. Ramos moved into a rather dull speech about how well they were playing, about how they were to step it up in order to keep it a close game, but really, Quatre knew that Ramos was really telling him that he wasn't playing as well as he could be. Some of the other players guessed this as well, and glared at Quatre from the small glances over their shoulders.

Quatre felt that he would, it was just...well, he was more than unnerved by the way Duncan Jones played. That was all. Next half, he would do better. They were released early from the locker room, in time to see the dance team performed their choreographed routine. He instantly found Middie in the center, smiling utterly cheerfully and sure was perky and bouncey with her curls and smile. It was sure disgusting, and Quatre found himself frowning at her. God, she was so cheerful that it made him sick. He still felt sick whenever he remembered how Trowa kissed her, but he was slowly getting used to the image and it didn't hurt as much any more, especially since they were getting along beautifully...well, they were.

He shook his head. He didn't want to think about his relationship right now. It would throw him off. The dance team performed their routine and left the court, freeing it up to the players that would practice their shots while waiting for the next half to begin.

The next quarter began intensely, with #25 out on the bench and Jamie taking his place, so Quatre had a chance to play for sure against his former friend and teammate. It was a welcome change. He knew Jamie's moves and the way he customarily dribbled, so Quatre didn't find it hard at all to anticipate his moves. What he found harder, through, was the fact that Jamie had grown faster and stronger since the last time they'd played together. It had to do with the military training he was receiving, because he was fast. Quatre had to work twice as hard as he usually did just to keep up.

In this intense quarter, Quatre was busily trying to cover Jamie, staying on him every step of the way, arms up high and feet moving quickly. Jamie knew his moves as well, easily bypassing every one of them to make a three over his head or a bounce pass between his legs. But even with this, Darken was slowly catching up, until they were two points behind.

Steadily burning with anger that they were losing despite their hard work, Quatre stayed with Jamie the entire time, dribbling the ball after an inbounds pass to fire a pass at Duo. Duo made his way through the crowding players of the court and made an easy three, evening both teams for a tie. Feeling utterly drained, Quatre fought to catch his breath, annoyed that the soldiers looked nothing but calm, barely winded as they began rolling out another quick inbounds pass. Jamie glanced at him from the corner of his eye, and nudged him with an elbow. In response, Quatre elbowed him back and went after the ball, ignoring Jamie's subtle reminder to keep a cool head. He knew what he was doing, he didn't need someone telling him otherwise.

In the last quarter, the crowd was screaming its approval as #25 made a three point shot, putting them at a comfortable ten points ahead of Darken, Quatre growing exasperated. Knowing that he was going to explode with frustrated anger, he turned and gestured at himself to Ramos, wanting to be taken out so that he wouldn't blow up on court. Ramos shook his head, indicating that he was to play. Quatre gestured again that he needed to be taken out, but Ramos indicated for him to continue playing.

"Dude, you're doing a good job!" Triton hissed in his ear, causing him to jerk reflexively away from him. "Just remind yourself that you're in the public eye! Don't blow it! You're doing good!"

"It's so frustrating!" Quatre growled back. "We're losing!"

"Just keep going! Don't give up! You're doing great! Just go back out there and keep doing what you can!" Triton encouraged, nodding his head repeatedly as he patted Quatre's shoulder, indicating for him to go back out there and do what he was doing. Quatre wiped his face with his already sweaty wristband then moved back into play.

The crowd screamed with approval as he made the next four points on his own, taking the ball entirely under his control. His team didn't like it-they were open, so they hollered at him to take them in consideration the next time he drove to the hoop. When he received the ball, he immediately turned, maneuvering easily through the crowded defense of the Duncan Jones players, and putting up another shot. It bounced off the rim, and three taller players were already snatching for it, so Quatre leapt up to snag the ball in mid-air, moving to land on the floor to start running and dribbling. Only, it didn't turn out that way-his left foot landed on the top of one of the players', and his falling weight sent his body in an awkward twist, his knee going in another direction from his body.

He landed on the floor with a pained shout as more intense, stinging pain ran up his thigh and down his shin. He dropped the ball, cradling his knee with a fierce expression, numbing pain making tears prick at his eyelids. It really, really hurt and he couldn't help but shout in pain as someone moved him. One of the Duncan Jones players pulled his leg straight and he gasped in severe agony as he registered that his knee was already growing rigid and swollen, everyone going as quiet as they could as the refs moved over to inspect the injury and hold-up of the game. Ramos was already there, crouching at his side.

"Can you move it?" he asked, watching Quatre intensely as the blond tried, but to no avail. It hurt too damn much to even twitch.

With an awful realization that he wasn't going to be able to play the rest of the game, Quatre fought the urge to yell in fury. #25 and Triton bent, helping him up from the floor as everyone erupted into appreciative applause, applauding his playing and for the fact that he'd played a good game. Quatre was just furious that he wasn't going to be playing for awhile, as he could not bend or move his leg due to his knee. The two players helped him off the court, Ramos directing them to take him to the locker room, so that the doctor on duty would check him over.

"You played good, man," Peters said cheerfully, not even winded from the intense playing on court as he and Triton deposited Quatre on a bench, one of the assistant coaches volunteering to stay behind and watch over the proceedings as Ramos returned to the court to watch over his team. "Good game, all right? I hope your leg gets better soon. You were a really good opponent!"

"Yeah...thanks," Quatre muttered, grimacing as he held his knee, trying to keep his tears at bay. It throbbed and stung like a bitch, making him realize that he'd either torn a muscle or sprained the damn thing. It was so unfortunate that it was in the middle of the season, too! Zone and State were at the end of March!

"See ya," Peters said, leaving the locker room.

"Here," Triton said, holding a cold pack wrapped in a towel against his knee. "Man, you were awesome out there!"

"You had at least twenty-three points," Andrew commented, looking at the doctor as he came in. "Real good game, Winner..."

"Thanks," he muttered again as the doctor knelt, gentling handling his knee. Wincing with the severe discomfort, Quatre held onto the bench with one hand and gripped the cold pack with the other, silently cursing himself for being so careless, for allowing this to happen. It wasn't that often that he'd hurt himself on the court like this, but a serious player couldn't pretend that it wouldn't happen to them. The doctor prodded and such, feeling with cold fingertips, making Quatre grimace with each touch. It felt as if his knee were completely torn from his leg, yet from obvious observation, it was still there. It felt weird to have elements within moving as he was forced to shift his knee from the bench to the doctor's knee. Bone grated upon bone, muscles were suddenly awkward, and he cursed himself again as he realized how long such injuries tended to heal. He would probably be out the entire season just to have it heal!

"Without the proper equipment, I can't tell you exactly what happened," the doctor said, looking at him with sympathy. "But you may have torn your ACL, or at least given yourself a pretty good sprain."

"Aw, fuck," Quatre muttered, holding tightly onto the area above his knee, the cold pack being shifted to lay directly over it, held in place by the doctor's gentle hand.

"Yeah, I'd say so. One time surgery can help it, though, if you take the injury seriously. Sometimes, that's what takes players out of the game, but in modern times...well, just get to the hospital tomorrow, and they'll recommend you to a reconstructive surgery center. The school covers its students with a very good insurance policy, so they can arrange for it to be paid and done for by the time your parents knew what happened," the doctor continued cheerfully.

"That's fuckin' awesome," Triton commented on a grin, having stayed there that entire time. He slapped Quatre's bare arm with a reassuring pat. "You should be up and about before we hit Zone..." "Yeah..."

"Remember, through, you need to stay off of it all night. I'll go get some crutches, unless your boyfriend here wants to help you-" the doctor commented, rising from the floor.

"He's not my boyfriend!"

"I'm not his boyfriend!"

"Er...excuse me. I just...thought that...never mind. Excuse me. I'll go get some crutches, and I'll wrap it. But you need to go get it thoroughly checked out so that it can be fixed. It's a half hour procedure and it won't take long to heal. So don't worry," the doctor finished, replacing Quatre's leg to rest on the bench once more. "You'll be back out there in no time..."

"Thanks," Quatre said, looking down at his swollen knee, noting the ugly rise and abnormally large size of it. He grimaced as it was starting to shift color, turning pale skin into black and blue splotches that were common with sprains.

The doctor walked out of the locker room, heading toward the coaches' office, and Triton snickered, shaking his head as he eyed the misshapen joint. "Dude, that just fuckin' sucks, man..."

"Tell me about it! I'm the one sitting here!" Quatre snapped, putting the cold pack against his knee once more.

"I'm not trying to start shit, I'm just saying that it really sucks. We need you. Those guys may hate you and all, but the team needs you. No one can play like you, or is willing to go all out like you do."

Triton's praise made Quatre's cheeks pink slightly, but it was just because it felt weird to be praised that way. He knew he was good-but he felt somewhat embarrassed whenever someone glorified him as such.

"Do you need anything? Want me to go get your warm-ups?" Triton asked, moving away from the bench.

"Um...yeah. I'm not playing..."

"Don't go anywhere, then," Triton warned, hurrying off with a grin.

Quatre shook his head, glaring at his knee. He went over what had happened to cause this, and shook his head once more. "Goddamn it!" he shouted at his knee. "Now look at what happened!! I hope you're happy!!"

"I'm sure if it could, it would answer you," the doctor said on a chuckle, returning with a pair of crutches and some wrapping material. He bent, wrapping the offending knee, then set the crutches aside and left after he was sure that someone was coming back for him. Quatre stared glumly at his knee, utterly annoyed that he was taken out in such a way. He knew it would happen to him one day, he just didn't think it would have happened so soon.

Sighing, he looked up as Triton came back in with his warm-ups and bag, to switch his shoes. With a somewhat embarrassed air, he allowed the guy to help him out of his basketball shoes and slip on his non-court shoes. Quatre pulled on his warmups, leaving his left side open to accommodate the wrap on his knee. After he was finished, he sighed heavily again, and used the crutches that Triton held out to him.

"Thanks," he muttered as he awkwardly began moving, leg raised slightly in front of him. "God... this fucking sucks..."

"But at least you left the game in a respectable manner," Triton said cheerfully, walking along beside him, carrying his bag. "You could have left the game on a 'T', or fouled out..."

Quatre eyed him nervously. "Aren't you supposed to be playing?"

"I just told Ramos I was helping you out..."

"Oh..."

Quatre felt severely uncomfortable in his company, due to that last harrowing experience with him in his room, but he supposed that he couldn't do anything about it, now. At least he wasn't trying to molest him in any way like he usually did.

They emerged from the locker room, the game still moving on. But upon emerging from the safety of the bleachers, the buzzer rang, and the crowd went wild at a game well played between both teams. Quatre sighed upon seeing the score, which was 70-63. Duncan Jones was just much better than they were...there wasn't anything anyone could do at this point, anyway. He stayed near the bleachers with a frown, standing awkwardly with the crutches, so all the Duncan Jones players moved to him, congratulating him on a good game.

It still felt so weird to play and know a good team that was impeccably clean. For one thing, they were entirely friendly and respectful despite their intimidating appearances, and for another, they had entirely good sportsmanship. It was just...weird.

Sighing, he noticed that Triton was still in possession of his bag, so he wondered how he was going to get it back and out of the gym before Trowa noticed what was going on. He moved to get out of the gym without anyone having to be troubled by him, heading over to the elevator, but he was interrupted in mid- step and shove, pulled into strong arms. In embarrassment, Quatre looked at Triton, who carried him easily toward the elevator, Tony carrying his crutches.

"Dude, good game, man!" Tony exclaimed, high fiving him as he adjusted the crutches to himself. "Really! You can get that shit fixed right up by heading over to that reconstructive surgery center on Winston and Fifty-Third! My older brother did the same fuckin' thing, and he was fixed right up. He was playing ball about three weeks later! It only takes a half hour to do..."

"Well, fine," Quatre muttered, somewhat mortified by Triton's holding of him. They exited the elevator, emerging near the pool area, and Triton let him down, Tony holding the crutches out.

"Let's go find your boyfriend," Triton said, moving ahead of him with his bag as Tony returned to the court upstairs.

"Wait! I can do that on my own!" Quatre said, awkwardly moving after him, cursing the crutches as he moved much too slow. He wanted to stay behind and talk to Jamie, but Triton was already out the front doors, and he was forced to follow. When he emerged outside, with the help of some kids that held the door open for him, he saw that Triton was shoving the gym bag into Trowa's arms and walking back into the gym.

Trowa hurried over to him, taking in the sight of the crutches. "Shit, what happened to you?" he asked around his cigarette, reaching out to steady Quatre when one of his crutches hit a patch of ice.

"I fucked up my knee. They said I could get it fixed really quick, so that's what I want to do tomorrow," Quatre said on a frown, Trowa bending to look at the wrapped joint. Grinning, Quatre felt all his frustration and such melt away upon Trowa's presence. "You can kiss it and make it better..."

Trowa snorted, dropping his cigarette on the sidewalk. "Whatever. Did you and Ralph go at it, again?"

"No. He's a really good shot."

"Yeah. He is."

"Hn. I would've thought you were out there trying to prove your dominance like the last time you two met," Trowa muttered, and Quatre detected the hint of brewing anger in his voice. Frowning, but not wanting to continue or start a fight, he shrugged awkwardly.

Trowa shifted his eyes to him, raising his eyebrows. "No comment to that?"

"No...I don't want to fight with you, Trowa...."

"Are you serious? Who are you trying to impress? You never let that kind of bullshit go...did you guys win?"

"No, we didn't win. Trowa...we're doing so good...let's not fight, all right?" Quatre asked, his voice dropping to a soft plea. "I just want things to be good again. Whatever it is you're all worked up about, please drop it."

Trowa frowned at this new side of Quatre Winner, but found himself unable to keep up his ire. He shrugged his shoulder, and kissed his boyfriend's cheek. "Fine."

Quatre smiled at him, glad that whatever it was Trowa was trying to work himself up on had died upon his request. He had to remember to use that again one day. He watched as Trowa shifted his gym bag on one shoulder, gesturing at him to follow him as he helped him maneuver through the various patch of ice that, despite being covered with kitty litter, tended to make his crutches slip. The crowds leaving the gym were numerous and loud, and Quatre kept expecting to hear either of their names being called, but nothing such happened. Trowa helped him into the dormitory building, and they headed over to the elevator located just beyond the security guard's desk. After a brief inquiry about his injury and the game, Lowell let them by, and Quatre frowned and sighed at his injury, leaning heavily on the crutches. His knee ached and stung with a horrible throbbing, and he didn't like the thought of being unable to play, even for one game.

Trowa helped him to his room, and inside, Quatre sat at the edge of his bed while Trowa gathered his pj's from the pile on the floor.

"You should really clean up your room, Quat," Trowa commented as he pushed aside various dirty clothes and shoes, clearing a space for him so he could take off his boyfriend's shoes and socks. "Whew! Your feet fucking stink!"

"I can't help it!" Quatre laughed at his face. "I put in so much powder and stuff...it's probably the material of my socks..."

"Get new ones, then."

"I like these ones. I hate change."

"I've noticed," Trowa muttered, raising his eyebrows at the room.

After Quatre had changed, and winced as he elevated his knee with the help of a bundle of sweaters that Trowa used to improvise as a pillow, he laid back on his bed, sighing heavily while Trowa stood at his side, staring down at him.

Quatre looked up at him, took in the stern features with a smile on his face, and gestured at Trowa to lay down with him. Trowa sat at his side instead, so Quatre sat up, giving him an awkward hug.

Unsure of the sudden affection, Trowa hugged him back, kissing sweaty hair. Quatre nuzzled his face against his boyfriend's arm, pressing an affectionate kiss against the covered biceps.

"Do you need any Excedrine, or anything for the pain?" Trowa asked, pulling away from him.

"No...I'm going to stay in, tonight. I'm pretty bushed...they were really tough. I felt like my lungs were going to burst at any second," Quatre said on a sigh. "Thank you for helping me, Trowa."

"Quat...you're being real cuddly...why?" Trowa asked, his wariness very apparent on his tone.

"Huh? Oh, I don't know. I just...I just feel this way whenever you're nearby. I don't know. Trowa...you make me feel happy when I'm with you. I probably don't tell you, and I should let you know. I don't want to lose you to someone like Middie Une...I need to show you more of what I feel and think to keep you happy. So, upon that thought, Trowa, I need to tell you something..."

"What?" Trowa asked cautiously, sure that at any moment, Quatre was going to say that he was dumping him for some dude on the military team.

"Trowa...I love you."

Trowa gaped at him, and Quatre stared at him with a held breath, watching for any indication that Trowa was going to be turned off on this. He felt like his lungs closed up, and everything that kept him in working order stopped, afraid that perhaps he'd said it too soon, or it was too much. He did, through, he'd reached that conclusion awhile back, and wasn't sure how to bring it up. But he was working on expressing his affections for the goth, and he figured he'd just tell him right off what he felt for him, so that Trowa was sure to know and wouldn't mistake any other rumor for anything otherwise. He knew the rumors were bothering him, so perhaps this reassurance of his feelings would help Trowa understand that Quatre wanted no other person in his life.

But the seconds passed, and Quatre began to grow scared, afraid that he'd revealed too much too soon, and he felt his cheeks pink with mortification. He looked away from Trowa on a rejected expression, but Trowa's hands were on his face, redirecting his eyes back to him. Trowa's eyes were intense and strong, and Quatre knew he hadn't made a mistake. He smiled faintly, then stronger as Trowa laughed softly, bending forward to rest his forehead on his.

"Do you know how long I've been wanting to say that to you?" Trowa asked, chuckling. "But every time I tried, it was like, someone either interrupted us, or something. Quatre...I love you too. I've loved you for awhile, now. And to know that you feel the same way..."

"Does it make you feel better, Trowa? I mean, because of those rumors...I don't want you to keep thinking that I want somebody else," Quatre explained, his voice soft as he reached up to hold Trowa's hands, curling his fingers over them. "I want only you...I love only you...you've been there for me for so long...I just want us to be good, again. That's all. And those are my true feelings..."

"Quat..."

"Trowa?"

"Yeah?"

"You're on my knee."

"Oh!" Trowa retreated from Quatre with a startled expression, seeing the blond's very pained one. "I'm so sorry! Oh, Quat, I'm sorry! Does it hurt even worse, now?"

"I'll live. But, Trowa, I just want you to know that I have not and will not cheat on you. I just want you to know that I love you. And I can't thank you enough for being there for me. I only hope that I can return your efforts the way that you do to me..."

"Quat, with that...I think I feel much better, now," Trowa said, shifting so that he could hug Quatre. "I love you, man. I'm glad I could say it, now. I'm so glad..."

"Do you want me to keep saying it? Just to reassure you?"

"As much as you can, Quat. As much as you can..."