Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Not Ready ❯ Chapter 1
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: deathangel125 
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 07.15.2013 | Pages: 3 | Words: 4.1K | Visits: 299 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 07.15.2013 | Pages: 3 | Words: 4.1K | Visits: 299 | Status: Work In Progress
Disclaimer: The G-boys and Gundam Wing don’t belong to me, duh. I’m sure everyone is already aware, but it has to be said anyway.
Warnings: Yaoi, some lime but nothing to give nosebleeds
Pairings: 1x4, 3x2
NOT READY
Shoving his way through the dense forest, Duo growled in frustration as his vision wavered, bracing against a rotting tree until he could see clearly again. Taking a deep breath, he glanced at the GPS he had shoved in his pocket, shaking his head as the numbers blurred. “Why in the hell do we hafta hide in the middle of nowhere?” he muttered, forcing his feet to move once again, feeling like lead weights were attached to his ankles.
“’Cause of the Gundams, you moron,” he answered his own question with a fatigued sigh, not finding it the least bit odd to converse with himself. “’Sides, it’s not like Heero or Wufei could fit in around normal people, but damn…it’s so far.”
He fell silent as the cool wind blew through the trees, slicing through his thin clothes like sharpened knives. Determined to make it back to the ramshackle house the other pilots were staying at, he turned his mind to the assignment he had just completed, allowing one sneer for the unknown man that had almost stopped him from blowing up the munitions warehouse.
Four days, four long days, of surveillance and research had determined the best zones to plant the explosives. Four days of camping in the wilderness with no equipment, no shelter, and no food had made Duo more than a little anxious to get the job over and done with. Not that he hadn’t gone without all those things before, he had done without more often in his life than he had been graced with meals or a warm bed, but he resented being the one sent on this assignment while the other pilots holed up at the two bedroom house, where they had water, food, heat, and a roof. It might have been different if he had a controller, someone to send him orders like the other pilots had, but it hadn’t been that way. The other pilots, mainly Wufei and Heero, had ordered him to take the mission, undoubtedly knowing the difficulties of the assignment, although they hadn’t bothered to share any details.
With detached curiosity, he tried to think of what he would do first when he returned to the house. Take a shower? Nah. Eat? Probably not. Sleep? Not willingly. Drink a couple of gallons of water to offset his terrible thirst? Nope, he shook his head, pressing a hand to his side ruefully. He wouldn’t even be able to tend to his wound until after he faced the dual power of the evil wonder twins, Heero and Wufei.
Raising a hand to his face, he could see the dark smears in the dim light of the setting sun as it filtered through the thick greenery, blood from the would that continued to bleed sluggishly. With a grunt he acknowledged he would have to get past the dark glowers of disapproval before he would be able to do anything else.
Wiping his hand on his dark pants, he worked up a tired grimace as he thought of the other pilots. Quatre was okay, usually willing to have a conversation when no one else could be bothered. Heero and Wufei both seemed determined to insult him at every opportunity; he was beginning to think of ‘idiot’ and ‘moron’ as endearments. Trowa…
Cursing as he tripped over something in the near dark, Duo managed to right himself before he plowed into the hard-packed ground with his face. With a groan of weariness, he staggered to his feet as he tried to figure out the tall, lean pilot of Heavyarms. Trowa never really spoke, unless it was to Quatre, though he did occasionally give Duo a short greeting of some kind, whether it was a head nod or a simple ‘hello’.
Calling himself a fool, Duo admitted each of those words and short gestures left him weak-kneed and light-headed, much as he felt now for a very different reason. Telling himself there was nothing between him and the tall teen, and never would be, didn’t stop him from wishing things could be otherwise.
If they had met under different circumstances, things could be different, right? If Duo was a little less noisy and Trowa could see him in a new way, would he be seen as less of an annoyance? Grinning despite the nausea, fatigue, hunger, and blood loss, Duo shook his head so hard the world tilted. “Get a grip, Maxwell. If we had met first he might pay attention to me, but it’s unlikely. Maybe if I dye my hair blonde, cut it all off and try to seem innocent?” The somber call of an owl echoed through the forest, making him laugh in agreement, the sound carrying a hint of hysteria. “Yup. That wouldn’t work. I might be a virgin, but I’m sure as hell not innocent. Wouldn’t have a chance of pulling that one off. I like my hair, anyway,” he told the unseen bird, wincing when the hair in question was snagged by a tree limb hanging down, the branches gripping like a skeletal hand. “There are times when short hair would be a lot less irritating,” he threatened his own braid as if it was a living thing.
Spying the hulking shape of a barn over the tops of the trees, he let out a sigh of relief. “Unless I went the wrong way, that should be home.” He stumbled out of the woods, laughing at his own words. Home. Home was where you were supposed to feel wanted and safe. For him there was no such thing as ‘home’ and there never would be as long as this damnable war continued. Hearing the mania in his laughter he cut it off quickly, moving his feet faster and wishing he hadn’t when dizziness had him sinking to his knees, one hand pressed firmly against his side, the other holding his head in an effort to make the ground stop spiraling.
Rising carefully, he absently wiped his bloody hand on the grass to remove some of the blood and weaved toward the house. He could see the dim light of candles through the windows as he hauled himself onto the sagging porch, snickering as it creaked with his weight, announcing his presence.
Forcing himself to stand straight, he grinned when the door flew open and he was faced with the barrel of Heero’s gun, the owner of said weapon staring at him coldly. In spite of feeling like he was going to fall over any second, Duo used his clean hand to give a sarcastic salute, “Honey, I’m home!”
Eyes glinting in displeasure, Heero grunted and moved aside, lowering the gun as Duo moved through the doorway. “Was your mission a success?”
Seeing the other three pilots in the tiny den, Duo jerked his head in greeting before answering Heero’s query. “Nope. Decided it would be better for Oz to keep their weapon stash. Instead of blowing them up, we built a campfire to roast marshmallows and sang Kumbaya.”
“Must you always have an attitude, Maxwell?”
Turning his eyes to Wufei, sitting on one end of a worn couch, Duo asked sweetly, “Must you always have that stick up your ass, Chang? If you took it out you might be able to walk without your cheeks clenched together so tight that you squeak.”
Wondering why these two seemed to hate him so much, Duo acknowledged he didn’t have the energy or strength to fight Wufei right now. Ignoring the way Wufei rose from the couch and stalked across the room toward him, Duo sighed heavily, “Mission accomplished, Heero. The weapons are gone, just like the hundred or so Oz personnel that worked there. Satisfied?” he glanced at Heero, frowning as he saw a stunned expression. A peek at Wufei revealed the same look of shock, but he was far too tired to decipher its meaning.
Fighting the need to press a hand to his side, he stuck his blood-stained hand in his pocket so it would be concealed, looking past Wufei to where Quatre and Trowa still sat, watching him silently. “My stuff still here, or did they toss it hoping I wasn’t coming back?” he jerked a thumb at Heero and Wufei, both now standing beside him. “I’m guessing they sent me on a nearly impossible mission for a reason.”
“Duo, no one wanted you to…” Quatre trailed off as he glanced at the teens standing at Duo’s side, apparently unsure Heero and Wufei didn’t wish he would disappear. “We managed to clean out one of the other rooms so there is a third bedroom.”
“Got it,” he shrugged, assuming he would have a room to himself. It was better that way, he knew, though the realization he was disliked hurt as badly as the physical pain he was in. “If Oz comes knocking at the door, do me a favor and leave me here, okay? I’m going to bed and I’d be better off with them than you two.”
“You need to debrief us on what happened,” demanded Wufei, anger making itself known once again.
Too tired to come up with a witty comeback, Duo stuck his middle finger up at the dark-eyed teen. “Stuff it, Wufei. Obviously, I work best alone and that means I don’t have to tell you shit.”
A stunned silence filled the room as he trudged away, heart aching while his wound throbbed painfully. He had tried to get approval from the other pilots, but it seemed no matter what he did, Heero and Wufei always found a way to cut him down, each verbal attack slashing across his soul and leaving deep scars.
The short hallway seemed to be miles and he needed to find the room designated as his before he collapsed, unwilling to show weakness when he was so detested. Gritting his teeth when he stumbled, he slowly moved one foot in front of the other, peeking into the two rooms he came to and bypassing both since there were two beds made from blankets on the floor, determined not to ask for help, no matter how badly he needed it.
A hand on his arm had him jerking in surprise, toppling into the wall as he lost his footing. When the supporting hand steadied him, he blinked up into emerald eyes. “How’s it goin’ Trowa?”
“Our room is here.”
Duo’s eyebrows shot up, disappearing underneath his bangs. “Not really interested in touring yours and Quatre’s room right now, man. I just want to lie down.”
Ignoring his argument, Trowa steered Duo into the room he had indicated, closing the door behind them. “Not mine and Quatre’s. Yours and mine.”
The room was lit by candlelight, allowing him to see his own bag sitting in the floor beside a make-shift bed. For several long minutes, Duo wondered what deranged movie he had been plucked down in. After a moment, he gave a nod of comprehension, “Drew the short straw and got stuck with me, did you?”
An odd expression on his face, Trowa took Duo’s arm again. “Quatre and Heero took a room together. I chose to let Wufei have a room for himself.”
Realizing he was being led to the ‘bed’ with his bag, Duo attempted to pull away with little success. If he sat down on the mound of blankets the blood from his wound would soak the light-colored cloth in a matter of minutes. “I appreciate you keeping Wufei from disemboweling me. I’ll try not to be a bother. I’d really just like to sleep. It’s been a long week.”
Trowa finally stopped beside the bed, turning to face Duo. “Let me see?”
“See what?” The smile Duo attempted turned to a gasp when Trowa yanked his shirt up to expose his side. “Damnit, Trowa. What the fuck?”
“No fucking involved…for now.”
Certain he was hearing things induced by fatigue and blood loss, Duo remained perfectly still as Trowa eyed the gash in his side, partially hidden by the black pants he wore, glad he had had at least a change of clothes with him to put on after his had been ruined in the fight he had gotten into. When hands went to the clasp of his pants, he jumped away, regretting the sudden move when the floor lurched under his feet. “Whoa, buddy. You’re not getting my pants off that easy. A date first would be nice,” he teased, hoping to slow his heart before it pounded its way out of his chest or he passed out from blood loss.
Trowa’s eyes were steady and unwavering as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Either you take them off or I will. We’ll date later.”
Duo forced a laugh until he realized Trowa didn’t seem to be joking about the first statement. He didn’t know how to react to the second comment at all. “I really can take care of myself, but thanks for the offer.”
“The pants, Duo.” When he hesitated again, Trowa reached for him, unbuttoning the black pants before he was able to evade. Feeling fingers on his zipper, he shot one hand out to hold the flap together.
“All right. I’ll take them off, but can you turn around or something?”
“I don’t see what the problem is. I’ve seen you in shorts before. You’ve nothing to be ashamed of, Duo.”
With no idea how to take that comment, the remainder of the blood he had rushed from the rest of his body to his face. “I’m not ashamed, but I don’t have shorts on.”
There was a split second where Duo thought he saw interest in Trowa’s visible eye, gone so quickly he must have imagined it. “Duly noted, now take off the pants. You have five seconds and then I’ll take them off myself.”
“I can deal with the cut myself,” he insisted, focusing his gaze on his feet in an attempt to control his abruptly raging hormones, not the least dampened by the notion he could be slowly bleeding to death.
“Quatre has seen you naked. What’s the difference?”
Because I didn’t want to jump his bones, was Duo’s thought. Aloud he evaded, “It just is.”
His eyes, still fastened to the floor, widened as a shirt fluttered down to land in a pile. Hearing a zipper, he jerked his head up to discover Trowa calmly removing his own clothing, pants sliding easily over feet that only wore thick socks. “What are you doing?” he squeaked, hoping he wasn’t drooling at the sight of the tanned chest, more developed than his own.
“I thought you would be more comfortable if I wasn’t clothed,” replied Trowa, fingers sliding under the elastic band holding up his briefs.
All the blood that had rushed to his face abruptly headed south. “I think I’m gonna pass out,” he muttered. “Please don’t take those off,” he pointed to the red briefs, red for god’s sake, shakily, his focus captured by the prominent bulge straining the cloth.
He knew he was staring but couldn’t seem to stop himself even as the bulge swelled, the tip of Trowa’s erection peeking out from the waistband. “Take your pants off, Duo,” he was commanded in a soft voice.
Fingers that were calloused yet strangely gentle pried his hand away from where they gripped his pants closed. As hands smoothed them down his legs, Duo tried to put the sight of Trowa’s near-naked body out of his mind, concentrating on himself as the cool air of the room wafted over his bare skin. “You have nothing to be ashamed of,” Trowa repeated quietly. “Lie down, Duo.”
Too stunned to do anything but obey, Duo let hands guide him until he was lying on his side. Biting his tongue to get his brain working again, he reasoned Trowa hadn’t really been turned on, not by a scrawny little nobody like himself. All of the pilots were teenagers; they all had hormones running around, making them do strange things and reacting in strange ways.
Something wet swiped across the wound, so he focused on that, ignoring the raging hard-on he had, fighting the instinct to cover himself as much as possible with one hand. Other than Trowa’s even breathing and his own erratic gasps, which he attributed to pain and not to the fact he was more turned on than he could ever recall being, the room was silent and still as Trowa cleaned the wound.
As he felt thread being pulled through his skin, he winced at the uncomfortable sensation, “Not even gonna offer me a shot to numb the pain?”
“All I have is morphine and I know you don’t like to use it.”
The calm statement had him jerking again with surprise, hissing when a hand steadied him, warm on his cool skin, fingers gripping his hip gently yet firm at the same time. “How do you know that?”
“I know a great deal about you, Duo. I’ve been watching you, waiting.”
Duo frowned as he heard a snip, signaling the end of the stitches. “Waiting for what?” he dared ask as a bandage was firmly taped to his side.
Behind him, the blankets shifted, but he dared not move. When warm breath ghosted over his neck, he fought a groan at the foreign sensation. “Waiting for a chance to speak to you alone, away from the others.”
“Talk about what?”
There was no way to stop the ragged moan that slipped from his mouth when a hot tongue trailed over his exposed shoulder, teeth lightly nipping his skin. “That should be obvious. Us,” Trowa informed him softly.
“There is no us,” he retorted, eyes threatening to roll back in his head. “You’ve barely talked to me before now.”
“You avoid Heero, Wufei, and me. The only person you don’t hide from is Quatre.”
Mention of the blonde brought up a new set of questions. “I thought you and Quatre had a…thing.”
“I never wanted him, or he me,” Trowa sat up on one elbow, leaning over Duo and looking down at him with an intense gaze. “If we had a…thing, he would be here instead of you, wouldn’t he?”
“So you and Quatre aren’t…this is insane.” Weary, Duo tilted his head up to regard the teen stretched out behind him. “This is a nice fantasy and all, but you’ve got to be serious for a minute. I’m not going to have sex with someone just because they decide to be nice to me. I know you guys can’t stand me.”
With a frown, Trowa studied Duo for a moment before looking away, one hand absently trialing across Duo’s hip, just underneath the fresh bandage. “I don’t talk a lot, Duo. I have a hard time trying to find the things I want to say. Where I come from…words don’t have a lot of meaning. If there was something that needed to be said, it was done with actions. I’ve been watching you, trying to figure out the best way to make you understand. While you were gone, I finally understood you need the words if you are to see what I want you to.”
Touched by the soft explanation, Duo shifted to lie on his back. While he was uncomfortable with his nudity, he didn’t mention it as he realized Trowa was likely even more uncomfortable sharing his thoughts this way. “What do you want me to see?” he asked softly as Trowa’s eyes moved to scan his body.
Not looking at Duo’s face, Trowa took a deep breath, “I think you’re amazing. I would like a chance to know you better.”
Assuming the other teen was talking about sex, Duo sighed heavily, “I’m a virgin, Trowa.”
Startled green eyes met his. “You’re a virgin?”
“Not everyone from L2 is a whore,” he grumbled, stunned at the sudden pain in his chest.
“I never thought you were,” Trowa told him with such sincerity it was impossible to doubt. “It’s not what I meant. You’re just so…beautiful.”
“I’m scrawny and scarred; not the best prize in the universe.”
Duo stared wonderingly at the shy smile that crept across Trowa’s mouth as he leaned down to Duo’s shoulder, tongue swiping a thin line of scarred skin Duo had worn for years as a reminder of his rough youth. “Beautiful,” Trowa whispered quietly, the words a hiss of air, performing the act over other scars he could reach without shifting Duo. “Each scar tells a story. They make you no less beautiful.”
Though his body was on fire from the brief caresses, grey and black began to dance across his vision. He pressed his eyes tightly closed, wanting to discover what Trowa wanted from him, fearing he would wake up to find the whole interlude nothing more than a figment of his own over-taxed mind and desperation for some human contact.
Apparently, Trowa noticed the movement. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. What did you want to tell me?” Duo questioned, forcing his eyes open again.
After studying him a moment, Trowa shook his head. “I should have realized how tired you are. We can talk about this later. Sleep.”
“But I want to know.” The entreaty would have been more firm if his eyes hadn’t already been closing, Trowa rubbing the long-haired teen’s arms to help him relax.
“Later, Duo, I promise I will tell you everything you want to know. Right now you aren’t ready to hear what I have to say and understand it.”
Warnings: Yaoi, some lime but nothing to give nosebleeds
Pairings: 1x4, 3x2
NOT READY
Shoving his way through the dense forest, Duo growled in frustration as his vision wavered, bracing against a rotting tree until he could see clearly again. Taking a deep breath, he glanced at the GPS he had shoved in his pocket, shaking his head as the numbers blurred. “Why in the hell do we hafta hide in the middle of nowhere?” he muttered, forcing his feet to move once again, feeling like lead weights were attached to his ankles.
“’Cause of the Gundams, you moron,” he answered his own question with a fatigued sigh, not finding it the least bit odd to converse with himself. “’Sides, it’s not like Heero or Wufei could fit in around normal people, but damn…it’s so far.”
He fell silent as the cool wind blew through the trees, slicing through his thin clothes like sharpened knives. Determined to make it back to the ramshackle house the other pilots were staying at, he turned his mind to the assignment he had just completed, allowing one sneer for the unknown man that had almost stopped him from blowing up the munitions warehouse.
Four days, four long days, of surveillance and research had determined the best zones to plant the explosives. Four days of camping in the wilderness with no equipment, no shelter, and no food had made Duo more than a little anxious to get the job over and done with. Not that he hadn’t gone without all those things before, he had done without more often in his life than he had been graced with meals or a warm bed, but he resented being the one sent on this assignment while the other pilots holed up at the two bedroom house, where they had water, food, heat, and a roof. It might have been different if he had a controller, someone to send him orders like the other pilots had, but it hadn’t been that way. The other pilots, mainly Wufei and Heero, had ordered him to take the mission, undoubtedly knowing the difficulties of the assignment, although they hadn’t bothered to share any details.
With detached curiosity, he tried to think of what he would do first when he returned to the house. Take a shower? Nah. Eat? Probably not. Sleep? Not willingly. Drink a couple of gallons of water to offset his terrible thirst? Nope, he shook his head, pressing a hand to his side ruefully. He wouldn’t even be able to tend to his wound until after he faced the dual power of the evil wonder twins, Heero and Wufei.
Raising a hand to his face, he could see the dark smears in the dim light of the setting sun as it filtered through the thick greenery, blood from the would that continued to bleed sluggishly. With a grunt he acknowledged he would have to get past the dark glowers of disapproval before he would be able to do anything else.
Wiping his hand on his dark pants, he worked up a tired grimace as he thought of the other pilots. Quatre was okay, usually willing to have a conversation when no one else could be bothered. Heero and Wufei both seemed determined to insult him at every opportunity; he was beginning to think of ‘idiot’ and ‘moron’ as endearments. Trowa…
Cursing as he tripped over something in the near dark, Duo managed to right himself before he plowed into the hard-packed ground with his face. With a groan of weariness, he staggered to his feet as he tried to figure out the tall, lean pilot of Heavyarms. Trowa never really spoke, unless it was to Quatre, though he did occasionally give Duo a short greeting of some kind, whether it was a head nod or a simple ‘hello’.
Calling himself a fool, Duo admitted each of those words and short gestures left him weak-kneed and light-headed, much as he felt now for a very different reason. Telling himself there was nothing between him and the tall teen, and never would be, didn’t stop him from wishing things could be otherwise.
If they had met under different circumstances, things could be different, right? If Duo was a little less noisy and Trowa could see him in a new way, would he be seen as less of an annoyance? Grinning despite the nausea, fatigue, hunger, and blood loss, Duo shook his head so hard the world tilted. “Get a grip, Maxwell. If we had met first he might pay attention to me, but it’s unlikely. Maybe if I dye my hair blonde, cut it all off and try to seem innocent?” The somber call of an owl echoed through the forest, making him laugh in agreement, the sound carrying a hint of hysteria. “Yup. That wouldn’t work. I might be a virgin, but I’m sure as hell not innocent. Wouldn’t have a chance of pulling that one off. I like my hair, anyway,” he told the unseen bird, wincing when the hair in question was snagged by a tree limb hanging down, the branches gripping like a skeletal hand. “There are times when short hair would be a lot less irritating,” he threatened his own braid as if it was a living thing.
Spying the hulking shape of a barn over the tops of the trees, he let out a sigh of relief. “Unless I went the wrong way, that should be home.” He stumbled out of the woods, laughing at his own words. Home. Home was where you were supposed to feel wanted and safe. For him there was no such thing as ‘home’ and there never would be as long as this damnable war continued. Hearing the mania in his laughter he cut it off quickly, moving his feet faster and wishing he hadn’t when dizziness had him sinking to his knees, one hand pressed firmly against his side, the other holding his head in an effort to make the ground stop spiraling.
Rising carefully, he absently wiped his bloody hand on the grass to remove some of the blood and weaved toward the house. He could see the dim light of candles through the windows as he hauled himself onto the sagging porch, snickering as it creaked with his weight, announcing his presence.
Forcing himself to stand straight, he grinned when the door flew open and he was faced with the barrel of Heero’s gun, the owner of said weapon staring at him coldly. In spite of feeling like he was going to fall over any second, Duo used his clean hand to give a sarcastic salute, “Honey, I’m home!”
Eyes glinting in displeasure, Heero grunted and moved aside, lowering the gun as Duo moved through the doorway. “Was your mission a success?”
Seeing the other three pilots in the tiny den, Duo jerked his head in greeting before answering Heero’s query. “Nope. Decided it would be better for Oz to keep their weapon stash. Instead of blowing them up, we built a campfire to roast marshmallows and sang Kumbaya.”
“Must you always have an attitude, Maxwell?”
Turning his eyes to Wufei, sitting on one end of a worn couch, Duo asked sweetly, “Must you always have that stick up your ass, Chang? If you took it out you might be able to walk without your cheeks clenched together so tight that you squeak.”
Wondering why these two seemed to hate him so much, Duo acknowledged he didn’t have the energy or strength to fight Wufei right now. Ignoring the way Wufei rose from the couch and stalked across the room toward him, Duo sighed heavily, “Mission accomplished, Heero. The weapons are gone, just like the hundred or so Oz personnel that worked there. Satisfied?” he glanced at Heero, frowning as he saw a stunned expression. A peek at Wufei revealed the same look of shock, but he was far too tired to decipher its meaning.
Fighting the need to press a hand to his side, he stuck his blood-stained hand in his pocket so it would be concealed, looking past Wufei to where Quatre and Trowa still sat, watching him silently. “My stuff still here, or did they toss it hoping I wasn’t coming back?” he jerked a thumb at Heero and Wufei, both now standing beside him. “I’m guessing they sent me on a nearly impossible mission for a reason.”
“Duo, no one wanted you to…” Quatre trailed off as he glanced at the teens standing at Duo’s side, apparently unsure Heero and Wufei didn’t wish he would disappear. “We managed to clean out one of the other rooms so there is a third bedroom.”
“Got it,” he shrugged, assuming he would have a room to himself. It was better that way, he knew, though the realization he was disliked hurt as badly as the physical pain he was in. “If Oz comes knocking at the door, do me a favor and leave me here, okay? I’m going to bed and I’d be better off with them than you two.”
“You need to debrief us on what happened,” demanded Wufei, anger making itself known once again.
Too tired to come up with a witty comeback, Duo stuck his middle finger up at the dark-eyed teen. “Stuff it, Wufei. Obviously, I work best alone and that means I don’t have to tell you shit.”
A stunned silence filled the room as he trudged away, heart aching while his wound throbbed painfully. He had tried to get approval from the other pilots, but it seemed no matter what he did, Heero and Wufei always found a way to cut him down, each verbal attack slashing across his soul and leaving deep scars.
The short hallway seemed to be miles and he needed to find the room designated as his before he collapsed, unwilling to show weakness when he was so detested. Gritting his teeth when he stumbled, he slowly moved one foot in front of the other, peeking into the two rooms he came to and bypassing both since there were two beds made from blankets on the floor, determined not to ask for help, no matter how badly he needed it.
A hand on his arm had him jerking in surprise, toppling into the wall as he lost his footing. When the supporting hand steadied him, he blinked up into emerald eyes. “How’s it goin’ Trowa?”
“Our room is here.”
Duo’s eyebrows shot up, disappearing underneath his bangs. “Not really interested in touring yours and Quatre’s room right now, man. I just want to lie down.”
Ignoring his argument, Trowa steered Duo into the room he had indicated, closing the door behind them. “Not mine and Quatre’s. Yours and mine.”
The room was lit by candlelight, allowing him to see his own bag sitting in the floor beside a make-shift bed. For several long minutes, Duo wondered what deranged movie he had been plucked down in. After a moment, he gave a nod of comprehension, “Drew the short straw and got stuck with me, did you?”
An odd expression on his face, Trowa took Duo’s arm again. “Quatre and Heero took a room together. I chose to let Wufei have a room for himself.”
Realizing he was being led to the ‘bed’ with his bag, Duo attempted to pull away with little success. If he sat down on the mound of blankets the blood from his wound would soak the light-colored cloth in a matter of minutes. “I appreciate you keeping Wufei from disemboweling me. I’ll try not to be a bother. I’d really just like to sleep. It’s been a long week.”
Trowa finally stopped beside the bed, turning to face Duo. “Let me see?”
“See what?” The smile Duo attempted turned to a gasp when Trowa yanked his shirt up to expose his side. “Damnit, Trowa. What the fuck?”
“No fucking involved…for now.”
Certain he was hearing things induced by fatigue and blood loss, Duo remained perfectly still as Trowa eyed the gash in his side, partially hidden by the black pants he wore, glad he had had at least a change of clothes with him to put on after his had been ruined in the fight he had gotten into. When hands went to the clasp of his pants, he jumped away, regretting the sudden move when the floor lurched under his feet. “Whoa, buddy. You’re not getting my pants off that easy. A date first would be nice,” he teased, hoping to slow his heart before it pounded its way out of his chest or he passed out from blood loss.
Trowa’s eyes were steady and unwavering as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Either you take them off or I will. We’ll date later.”
Duo forced a laugh until he realized Trowa didn’t seem to be joking about the first statement. He didn’t know how to react to the second comment at all. “I really can take care of myself, but thanks for the offer.”
“The pants, Duo.” When he hesitated again, Trowa reached for him, unbuttoning the black pants before he was able to evade. Feeling fingers on his zipper, he shot one hand out to hold the flap together.
“All right. I’ll take them off, but can you turn around or something?”
“I don’t see what the problem is. I’ve seen you in shorts before. You’ve nothing to be ashamed of, Duo.”
With no idea how to take that comment, the remainder of the blood he had rushed from the rest of his body to his face. “I’m not ashamed, but I don’t have shorts on.”
There was a split second where Duo thought he saw interest in Trowa’s visible eye, gone so quickly he must have imagined it. “Duly noted, now take off the pants. You have five seconds and then I’ll take them off myself.”
“I can deal with the cut myself,” he insisted, focusing his gaze on his feet in an attempt to control his abruptly raging hormones, not the least dampened by the notion he could be slowly bleeding to death.
“Quatre has seen you naked. What’s the difference?”
Because I didn’t want to jump his bones, was Duo’s thought. Aloud he evaded, “It just is.”
His eyes, still fastened to the floor, widened as a shirt fluttered down to land in a pile. Hearing a zipper, he jerked his head up to discover Trowa calmly removing his own clothing, pants sliding easily over feet that only wore thick socks. “What are you doing?” he squeaked, hoping he wasn’t drooling at the sight of the tanned chest, more developed than his own.
“I thought you would be more comfortable if I wasn’t clothed,” replied Trowa, fingers sliding under the elastic band holding up his briefs.
All the blood that had rushed to his face abruptly headed south. “I think I’m gonna pass out,” he muttered. “Please don’t take those off,” he pointed to the red briefs, red for god’s sake, shakily, his focus captured by the prominent bulge straining the cloth.
He knew he was staring but couldn’t seem to stop himself even as the bulge swelled, the tip of Trowa’s erection peeking out from the waistband. “Take your pants off, Duo,” he was commanded in a soft voice.
Fingers that were calloused yet strangely gentle pried his hand away from where they gripped his pants closed. As hands smoothed them down his legs, Duo tried to put the sight of Trowa’s near-naked body out of his mind, concentrating on himself as the cool air of the room wafted over his bare skin. “You have nothing to be ashamed of,” Trowa repeated quietly. “Lie down, Duo.”
Too stunned to do anything but obey, Duo let hands guide him until he was lying on his side. Biting his tongue to get his brain working again, he reasoned Trowa hadn’t really been turned on, not by a scrawny little nobody like himself. All of the pilots were teenagers; they all had hormones running around, making them do strange things and reacting in strange ways.
Something wet swiped across the wound, so he focused on that, ignoring the raging hard-on he had, fighting the instinct to cover himself as much as possible with one hand. Other than Trowa’s even breathing and his own erratic gasps, which he attributed to pain and not to the fact he was more turned on than he could ever recall being, the room was silent and still as Trowa cleaned the wound.
As he felt thread being pulled through his skin, he winced at the uncomfortable sensation, “Not even gonna offer me a shot to numb the pain?”
“All I have is morphine and I know you don’t like to use it.”
The calm statement had him jerking again with surprise, hissing when a hand steadied him, warm on his cool skin, fingers gripping his hip gently yet firm at the same time. “How do you know that?”
“I know a great deal about you, Duo. I’ve been watching you, waiting.”
Duo frowned as he heard a snip, signaling the end of the stitches. “Waiting for what?” he dared ask as a bandage was firmly taped to his side.
Behind him, the blankets shifted, but he dared not move. When warm breath ghosted over his neck, he fought a groan at the foreign sensation. “Waiting for a chance to speak to you alone, away from the others.”
“Talk about what?”
There was no way to stop the ragged moan that slipped from his mouth when a hot tongue trailed over his exposed shoulder, teeth lightly nipping his skin. “That should be obvious. Us,” Trowa informed him softly.
“There is no us,” he retorted, eyes threatening to roll back in his head. “You’ve barely talked to me before now.”
“You avoid Heero, Wufei, and me. The only person you don’t hide from is Quatre.”
Mention of the blonde brought up a new set of questions. “I thought you and Quatre had a…thing.”
“I never wanted him, or he me,” Trowa sat up on one elbow, leaning over Duo and looking down at him with an intense gaze. “If we had a…thing, he would be here instead of you, wouldn’t he?”
“So you and Quatre aren’t…this is insane.” Weary, Duo tilted his head up to regard the teen stretched out behind him. “This is a nice fantasy and all, but you’ve got to be serious for a minute. I’m not going to have sex with someone just because they decide to be nice to me. I know you guys can’t stand me.”
With a frown, Trowa studied Duo for a moment before looking away, one hand absently trialing across Duo’s hip, just underneath the fresh bandage. “I don’t talk a lot, Duo. I have a hard time trying to find the things I want to say. Where I come from…words don’t have a lot of meaning. If there was something that needed to be said, it was done with actions. I’ve been watching you, trying to figure out the best way to make you understand. While you were gone, I finally understood you need the words if you are to see what I want you to.”
Touched by the soft explanation, Duo shifted to lie on his back. While he was uncomfortable with his nudity, he didn’t mention it as he realized Trowa was likely even more uncomfortable sharing his thoughts this way. “What do you want me to see?” he asked softly as Trowa’s eyes moved to scan his body.
Not looking at Duo’s face, Trowa took a deep breath, “I think you’re amazing. I would like a chance to know you better.”
Assuming the other teen was talking about sex, Duo sighed heavily, “I’m a virgin, Trowa.”
Startled green eyes met his. “You’re a virgin?”
“Not everyone from L2 is a whore,” he grumbled, stunned at the sudden pain in his chest.
“I never thought you were,” Trowa told him with such sincerity it was impossible to doubt. “It’s not what I meant. You’re just so…beautiful.”
“I’m scrawny and scarred; not the best prize in the universe.”
Duo stared wonderingly at the shy smile that crept across Trowa’s mouth as he leaned down to Duo’s shoulder, tongue swiping a thin line of scarred skin Duo had worn for years as a reminder of his rough youth. “Beautiful,” Trowa whispered quietly, the words a hiss of air, performing the act over other scars he could reach without shifting Duo. “Each scar tells a story. They make you no less beautiful.”
Though his body was on fire from the brief caresses, grey and black began to dance across his vision. He pressed his eyes tightly closed, wanting to discover what Trowa wanted from him, fearing he would wake up to find the whole interlude nothing more than a figment of his own over-taxed mind and desperation for some human contact.
Apparently, Trowa noticed the movement. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. What did you want to tell me?” Duo questioned, forcing his eyes open again.
After studying him a moment, Trowa shook his head. “I should have realized how tired you are. We can talk about this later. Sleep.”
“But I want to know.” The entreaty would have been more firm if his eyes hadn’t already been closing, Trowa rubbing the long-haired teen’s arms to help him relax.
“Later, Duo, I promise I will tell you everything you want to know. Right now you aren’t ready to hear what I have to say and understand it.”