Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Just One Thing ❯ Chapter 1
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: deathangel125 
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 10.27.2011 | Pages: 1 | Words: 2.0K | Visits: 309 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 10.27.2011 | Pages: 1 | Words: 2.0K | Visits: 309 | Status: Work In Progress
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, the g-boys belong to someone that isn’t me. If anyone has a way to remedy this, let me know.
Warnings: Yaoi, meaning males doing things that would never be put in kid books, abounds in the following fic. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. I will not respond to snitty messages, and will send my children and/or gassy dog after you if you ignore the warning.
Pairings: 3x2 main, 1x Solo, 5x4
AN: If you like it or hate it, let me know. I’m open to constructive criticism – mostly. Thanks!!
On with the fic!!!
Trowa looked around, nervous in the surroundings. People crowded and jostled him at every turn. He wasn’t able to walk more than two steps at a time without bumping into someone, or having someone bump into him. It felt like he was being herded, unable to go another direction against the thick mob of party-goers and revelers.
Beside him, his agent/best friend danced along with the music that seemed to be playing from every corner of the city, blue eyes alight with excitement. After nearly tripping over yet another drunken partier, Trowa moved as close to the blonde as possible and yelled to be heard over the horde, “What are we doing here?”
“Were supposed to be having fun,” Quatre shouted back with a happy smile. Seeing the look on the tall man’s face, he sighed loudly and rolled his eyes. “You said you needed to do research for your next book, right?” Trowa nodded, not understanding what the question had to do with their current situation. “You wanted to know how a large group of people would act if they were celebrating on a grand scale. You can’t get a better example of that than at Mardi Gras! It’s a week full of people prepared to celebrate the joy of life and fun.”
“I wanted to research and observe, not be in the middle of it!” Trowa’s assertion was ignored for several minutes as Quatre was pulled into a quick dance with a busty woman that had lost most of her clothing over the course of the night. Then again, she might have dressed that way in the first place. Apparently, Mardi Gras was an excuse for people to wear next to nothing and drink themselves into a coma.
Eventually, the blonde managed to extricate himself from the woman’s grasp, his face burning. Trowa wasn’t sure if his friend was merely out of breath, or embarrassed because the woman had shoved her ample breasts in his face. Going with the safest option, he chose not to ask. The blonde grabbed his hand and pulled him through the mass of bodies with the tenacity of a pit bull.
Finally out of the middle of the street, where the crowd was the thickest, Quatre led him around clusters of people, obviously with a destination in mind. Down a side street, Trowa followed - glad when the noise fell down to a more bearable level. “Why did I let you talk me into this?” he questioned rhetorically.
“Because you know you need to get out more. You told me that you’ve been lonely,” chirped Quatre, still smiling.
“That didn’t mean that I wanted to fly five hundred miles to go to a block party. I just wanted someone to talk to,” he insisted, wincing as he did so.
Quatre stopped and turned, fixing hurt blue eyes on Trowa, who immediately felt guilty, though he had no idea why. “I have tried to set you up, Trowa, but there is always something wrong with the people I introduce to you. Every single person has some sort of defect in your opinion.”
“I never said that. I merely shared my opinions about them. I wasn’t comfortable with any of them.”
“That’s why you are supposed to date someone,” chided Quatre, “you’ll never feel comfortable with someone if you don’t get to know them first.”
Side by side, they continued to walk, looking into various shops and windows along the way. There were still people here celebrating, but the crowd had thinned out a lot. While walking, Trowa thought about what Quatre had said. Was it really necessary to know someone for a while before you felt comfortable with them? He had always assumed that he would, one day, meet someone that he had an instant connection with, someone he felt comfortable with right after meeting them. With a sigh, he decided that it was time to let go of the foolish dream and give some of his dates more than a passing chance.
Hoping to get his mind off the depressing thoughts, he asked, “Isn’t this where that friend of yours lives? The actor you were telling me about on the way here?”
Quatre hadn’t really said much, just that an actor friend lived in New Orleans, and he hoped they could get together sometime during the week. Trowa didn’t bother asking for details about the friend since he didn’t really watch TV shows or movies, and he probably wouldn’t have known who the person was anyways. The only names he would recognize were the most popular, and he couldn’t see a star living here instead of in a major filming area like New York or Los Angeles, even somewhere like Chicago.
“Yeah, but he said he’d call if he got back in time for us to see each other,” Quatre shrugged it off, apparently not concerned. “He’s supposed to be filming on location, or doing an interview or something. I can’t keep up.”
The remainder of the evening was spent with the two of them exploring shops or trying some of the more exotic foods that they found. For the most part, Trowa enjoyed the new experience once he was away from the crowds. He was able to spend some time with his best friend and do some research for his next book all at the same time.
Back at the hotel, they parted, going to their separate rooms, with Trowa promising meet in Quatre’s room for a late breakfast the next morning. Absently he flipped on the TV for background noise, turning it to one of the news channels that he normally watched. At home, he would play music while he was working, since it wouldn’t distract him. He just needed something to fill the silence that often invaded his mind, sending him into a dark depression. One of the reasons he had decided to write was because it was a way to rid himself of the inner demons that plagued his mind, dark imaginings that he had never understood. Though the dark thoughts bothered him, they had made him a very popular horror novelist that was in high demand.
Settling at the desk with his laptop, a recent acquisition, he ran a loving hand over it before opening it and starting to type, wanting to make sure he was able to capture the noise and confusion he had felt of the street, quickly losing himself in the memories of the celebratory air of the people that continued to party far below his floor of the hotel even now.
He was deep into a new chapter with the recurring character that had made him famous just beginning to enter a dark crypt when a name on TV brought him back to awareness. Curious, he focused on the screen, where a reporter was attempting to interview an attractive man with a long rope of chestnut hair draped across one shoulder. The reporter was brushed off politely, the man stating that he had an appointment with a friend that he didn’t want to miss. Trowa smiled at the pleading expression the reporter sent the actor, smiling a bit when the actor caved with a laugh, a low husky sound that he was famous for just as much as his good looks and charming personality. “Just a few questions, okay? I really do need to hurry,” the actor was saying, smiling at the reporter like she was the only person around.
“Are you really playing the lead in ‘They All Fall Down’?”
Trowa blinked at the title of one of his own books. He had read and approved the script almost a month ago, but had never assumed that there would be a well-known actor in it. He leaned forward, listening for an answer. “Nothings been finalized yet. There are a lot of talented people that are up for the various roles,” the man laughed again, side-stepping the question easily, a talent that both frustrated and charmed the media time and time again.
The handsome face on screen twisted slightly into a wince when a familiar blonde head appeared at his side. The expression was quickly erased, replaced with a tight smile that seemed strained. Trowa wondered what had caused it. After all, the pair was the leading couple in Hollywood – what many called a dream match.
The reporter took advantage of the woman’s sudden appearance, turning the questions to her, since the man was well-known for evading anything that resembled a personal question. “Are the rumors true about yourself and Mr. Maxwell? Has a wedding date finally been set?”
There was a flash of horror on the actor’s face. The starlet, however, practically oozed smugness as she piped up from his side, her tone sweet as honey, “You’ll just have to wait and find out with the rest of the world, won’t you?”
The couple moved away, the woman flouncing, and the man moving stiffly, like he was moving automatically. The reporter blinked at the sudden withdrawal, turning to the camera with a wide but slightly baffled smile. “I guess that’s all were going to hear from the dream couple for now. Stay tuned to channel twenty-three for more on the leading star of ‘Bouncing Back,’ the wonderful and handsome Duo Maxwell, who we just had a few words with.”
With a push of a button, Trowa turned the TV off, his calm destroyed. Climbing into bed, he kept recalling the image of the actor when Relena Dorlian had clung to his arm. The man hadn’t appeared to be happy about it, but Trowa couldn’t figure out a reason why the actor had reacted that way. Suddenly realizing that he was analyzing the moves of a man he would never meet, Trowa berated himself for being a fool. It was impossible to develop feelings for someone he had never met.
That didn’t stop him from falling asleep with a picture of the actor in his mind, the husky laughter chasing him into sleep.
Converting /tmp/phppDLMNc to /dev/stdout
Warnings: Yaoi, meaning males doing things that would never be put in kid books, abounds in the following fic. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. I will not respond to snitty messages, and will send my children and/or gassy dog after you if you ignore the warning.
Pairings: 3x2 main, 1x Solo, 5x4
AN: If you like it or hate it, let me know. I’m open to constructive criticism – mostly. Thanks!!
On with the fic!!!
Trowa looked around, nervous in the surroundings. People crowded and jostled him at every turn. He wasn’t able to walk more than two steps at a time without bumping into someone, or having someone bump into him. It felt like he was being herded, unable to go another direction against the thick mob of party-goers and revelers.
Beside him, his agent/best friend danced along with the music that seemed to be playing from every corner of the city, blue eyes alight with excitement. After nearly tripping over yet another drunken partier, Trowa moved as close to the blonde as possible and yelled to be heard over the horde, “What are we doing here?”
“Were supposed to be having fun,” Quatre shouted back with a happy smile. Seeing the look on the tall man’s face, he sighed loudly and rolled his eyes. “You said you needed to do research for your next book, right?” Trowa nodded, not understanding what the question had to do with their current situation. “You wanted to know how a large group of people would act if they were celebrating on a grand scale. You can’t get a better example of that than at Mardi Gras! It’s a week full of people prepared to celebrate the joy of life and fun.”
“I wanted to research and observe, not be in the middle of it!” Trowa’s assertion was ignored for several minutes as Quatre was pulled into a quick dance with a busty woman that had lost most of her clothing over the course of the night. Then again, she might have dressed that way in the first place. Apparently, Mardi Gras was an excuse for people to wear next to nothing and drink themselves into a coma.
Eventually, the blonde managed to extricate himself from the woman’s grasp, his face burning. Trowa wasn’t sure if his friend was merely out of breath, or embarrassed because the woman had shoved her ample breasts in his face. Going with the safest option, he chose not to ask. The blonde grabbed his hand and pulled him through the mass of bodies with the tenacity of a pit bull.
Finally out of the middle of the street, where the crowd was the thickest, Quatre led him around clusters of people, obviously with a destination in mind. Down a side street, Trowa followed - glad when the noise fell down to a more bearable level. “Why did I let you talk me into this?” he questioned rhetorically.
“Because you know you need to get out more. You told me that you’ve been lonely,” chirped Quatre, still smiling.
“That didn’t mean that I wanted to fly five hundred miles to go to a block party. I just wanted someone to talk to,” he insisted, wincing as he did so.
Quatre stopped and turned, fixing hurt blue eyes on Trowa, who immediately felt guilty, though he had no idea why. “I have tried to set you up, Trowa, but there is always something wrong with the people I introduce to you. Every single person has some sort of defect in your opinion.”
“I never said that. I merely shared my opinions about them. I wasn’t comfortable with any of them.”
“That’s why you are supposed to date someone,” chided Quatre, “you’ll never feel comfortable with someone if you don’t get to know them first.”
Side by side, they continued to walk, looking into various shops and windows along the way. There were still people here celebrating, but the crowd had thinned out a lot. While walking, Trowa thought about what Quatre had said. Was it really necessary to know someone for a while before you felt comfortable with them? He had always assumed that he would, one day, meet someone that he had an instant connection with, someone he felt comfortable with right after meeting them. With a sigh, he decided that it was time to let go of the foolish dream and give some of his dates more than a passing chance.
Hoping to get his mind off the depressing thoughts, he asked, “Isn’t this where that friend of yours lives? The actor you were telling me about on the way here?”
Quatre hadn’t really said much, just that an actor friend lived in New Orleans, and he hoped they could get together sometime during the week. Trowa didn’t bother asking for details about the friend since he didn’t really watch TV shows or movies, and he probably wouldn’t have known who the person was anyways. The only names he would recognize were the most popular, and he couldn’t see a star living here instead of in a major filming area like New York or Los Angeles, even somewhere like Chicago.
“Yeah, but he said he’d call if he got back in time for us to see each other,” Quatre shrugged it off, apparently not concerned. “He’s supposed to be filming on location, or doing an interview or something. I can’t keep up.”
The remainder of the evening was spent with the two of them exploring shops or trying some of the more exotic foods that they found. For the most part, Trowa enjoyed the new experience once he was away from the crowds. He was able to spend some time with his best friend and do some research for his next book all at the same time.
Back at the hotel, they parted, going to their separate rooms, with Trowa promising meet in Quatre’s room for a late breakfast the next morning. Absently he flipped on the TV for background noise, turning it to one of the news channels that he normally watched. At home, he would play music while he was working, since it wouldn’t distract him. He just needed something to fill the silence that often invaded his mind, sending him into a dark depression. One of the reasons he had decided to write was because it was a way to rid himself of the inner demons that plagued his mind, dark imaginings that he had never understood. Though the dark thoughts bothered him, they had made him a very popular horror novelist that was in high demand.
Settling at the desk with his laptop, a recent acquisition, he ran a loving hand over it before opening it and starting to type, wanting to make sure he was able to capture the noise and confusion he had felt of the street, quickly losing himself in the memories of the celebratory air of the people that continued to party far below his floor of the hotel even now.
He was deep into a new chapter with the recurring character that had made him famous just beginning to enter a dark crypt when a name on TV brought him back to awareness. Curious, he focused on the screen, where a reporter was attempting to interview an attractive man with a long rope of chestnut hair draped across one shoulder. The reporter was brushed off politely, the man stating that he had an appointment with a friend that he didn’t want to miss. Trowa smiled at the pleading expression the reporter sent the actor, smiling a bit when the actor caved with a laugh, a low husky sound that he was famous for just as much as his good looks and charming personality. “Just a few questions, okay? I really do need to hurry,” the actor was saying, smiling at the reporter like she was the only person around.
“Are you really playing the lead in ‘They All Fall Down’?”
Trowa blinked at the title of one of his own books. He had read and approved the script almost a month ago, but had never assumed that there would be a well-known actor in it. He leaned forward, listening for an answer. “Nothings been finalized yet. There are a lot of talented people that are up for the various roles,” the man laughed again, side-stepping the question easily, a talent that both frustrated and charmed the media time and time again.
The handsome face on screen twisted slightly into a wince when a familiar blonde head appeared at his side. The expression was quickly erased, replaced with a tight smile that seemed strained. Trowa wondered what had caused it. After all, the pair was the leading couple in Hollywood – what many called a dream match.
The reporter took advantage of the woman’s sudden appearance, turning the questions to her, since the man was well-known for evading anything that resembled a personal question. “Are the rumors true about yourself and Mr. Maxwell? Has a wedding date finally been set?”
There was a flash of horror on the actor’s face. The starlet, however, practically oozed smugness as she piped up from his side, her tone sweet as honey, “You’ll just have to wait and find out with the rest of the world, won’t you?”
The couple moved away, the woman flouncing, and the man moving stiffly, like he was moving automatically. The reporter blinked at the sudden withdrawal, turning to the camera with a wide but slightly baffled smile. “I guess that’s all were going to hear from the dream couple for now. Stay tuned to channel twenty-three for more on the leading star of ‘Bouncing Back,’ the wonderful and handsome Duo Maxwell, who we just had a few words with.”
With a push of a button, Trowa turned the TV off, his calm destroyed. Climbing into bed, he kept recalling the image of the actor when Relena Dorlian had clung to his arm. The man hadn’t appeared to be happy about it, but Trowa couldn’t figure out a reason why the actor had reacted that way. Suddenly realizing that he was analyzing the moves of a man he would never meet, Trowa berated himself for being a fool. It was impossible to develop feelings for someone he had never met.
That didn’t stop him from falling asleep with a picture of the actor in his mind, the husky laughter chasing him into sleep.
Converting /tmp/phppDLMNc to /dev/stdout