Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Panther ❯ Of strawberry plants and holiday homes ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: Own Gundam Wing? *looks around* Who, me? Nope, sorry, you want the other side of the world.

Rating: PG-13, subject to change.

Warnings: Shounen-ai, kinda sappy I think, occasional language (mild, probably), angst (can't do without the angst!). I'll likely be adding to this list as I go along, so keep an eye on it people!

Pairings: Hmm, I'll try out a 3x2 I think…

Author's notes: I know, I know! I need to update `Untitled as of yet' (God, I need a title for that…), and I will! Soon! I promise! But Misu (my favourite plot bunny) jumped on me with this one and I just thought, `What a weird AU that would be…' Yes, another AU. You can tell I like these, huh…?

 

~]~]~]~]~]~]~]~]~]~]~

 

“Trowa? Hey, Trowa? It's Wufei on the phone. He wants to know whether you've still got his passport, `cos he can't find it.”

 

“… Didn't he give it to Heero?”

 

The blond boy, evidently in his late teens but perhaps a little short for his age, turned back to the petite black mobile he held in his hands.

 

“Wufei? Trowa says you gave it to Heero.” There was a short pause in which Trowa, a tall, mature looking boy, could hear that distinctive sound which is known worldwide as the sound of someone talking through a telephone. The blond looked back at Trowa. “Apparently, Wufei dropped it under the table when Dorothy came round to ours, got drunk and tried to make out with him.” Both boys winced in pained memory, and Trowa was fairly sure that Wufei, half a mile away, followed suit.

 

“That was not a happy hour…” Trowa muttered.

 

“Yeah. So anyway, is it under the table?”

 

The oddly-banged boy rose from his seat on the carpet with a minute sigh and made his way over to the item of furniture in question, a lovely mahogany coffee table that he had received from his sister as a house-warming present when he'd moved into this apartment a few months back. He knelt down beside it, moving a navy blue rucksack out of the way, and reached underneath with a long, muscular arm, rooting around blindly. After a few seconds, he straightened up again and shrugged at his companion, who sighed.

 

“Nope, it's not here, Wufei. Are you sure you didn't give it to Heero?” Another pause. “…” There was a quiet beep as the phone was switched off by its exasperated owner. “Wufei was sitting on it,” he said by way of explanation, rolling his eyes.

 

Trowa snickered slightly. It was rare that the boy in front of him, his best friend of eight years, got annoyed enough to hang up on someone. But the near frantic packing of the last day coupled with the necessary but hated inoculations they'd both received had left Quatre Raberba Winner in a mood that could hardly be described as his best.

 

They were going on holiday. Their little group of four; Heero Yuy, a computer and technology expert; Chang Wufei, a brilliant but occasionally absent-minded scholar; Quatre Raberba Winner, the business manager-in-training and musician; and Trowa Barton, acrobat and member of the Circus Classique. A varied group indeed.

 

It had been Heero who'd organised the holiday for them. According to his gruff insistences, he'd won it by complete accident, but Quatre (who'd always had the uncanny ability to tell this sort of thing) had reckoned otherwise. Thinking about it, Trowa and Wufei had to admit that Heero had recently been muttering about how they all worked far too hard (a statement which Wufei strongly disagreed with, but then again, the man lived for his studies), and how a long holiday, somewhere remote, would do them a world of good. And how else would their various employers have received a week's notice explaining the holiday, completely unknown to the three boys?

 

But whether Heero had won it or organised it, they were going to a rainforest in Central America, where they would stay in a `holiday home' just outside the outskirts of the rainforest itself. Technically, the holiday home was just an ordinary, fairly large two-storey house, but `ordinary, fairly large two-storey house' doesn't look nearly so good in a brochure.

 

The chaotic packing was due to the fact that Heero had neglected to actually tell the other three that they were going until the day before they were due to leave.

 

“Right! That has to be everything!” Quatre exclaimed, zipping up the large pine-coloured bag he was crouching over. “Yep, I think we're finally done. We're only going for two weeks, right?”

 

Trowa nodded and stood up, stretching up and shrugging his shoulders to get rid of at least some of the tension that came from hunching over luggage for several hours. “Heero's picking us up in half an hour,” he informed the Arabic boy, “so good timing.”

 

“Half an hour? I thought he said three o'clo…” Quatre frowned and flicked his watch. “Hmm. Time flies, huh?”

 

Trowa smiled affectionately. “Hm. We should carry our bags to the door,” he said in his gentle, light baritone. Quatre smiled back and nodded, hoisting a duffle bag onto his shoulder and heading for the front door.

 

Someone observing this scene may have assumed the two to be lovers. They would be correct only in assuming that the two were gay. The two were firmly written down in each other's books as best friends, and always would be. They'd never attempted a relationship simply because, conveniently, neither was the other's type. And both were more than content to leave it at that.

 

“Sand in a bag, what do you think you're doing, Wufei?!”

 

Trowa's smile grew a fraction of a millimetre upon hearing Quatre's favourite exclamation. Most people would use `bloody hell', or perhaps something stronger. Trowa's sister, Catherine (Cathy to her friends) used to be rather too fond of saying, `mad goats in April!'. But `sand in a bag' was Quatre's, and it could be heard at least twice a day, if not more often.

 

Brushing stray hairs out of his eyes, Trowa picked up the navy blue rucksack and headed outside, wondering what exactly Wufei was doing.

 

He stepped out of the door and stopped, blinked a few times, looked at Quatre, then directed his gaze back down to Wufei. Way down, all the way to the ground.

 

“…?”

 

“I'm not getting up until I have sufficiently proved to you that your strawberry plant is a dangerous health hazard and should be burnt!”

 

“…?!”

 

Quatre sighed. “Wufei tripped over the strawberry plant again.”

 

Trowa smirked.

 

~]~]~]~]~]~]~]~]~]~]~

 

The plane journey took roughly four hours. Wufei spent the hours alternating between reading a book almost heavy enough to need a ticket of its own to be on the plane, and arguing with Quatre over the strawberry plant. Heero typed away at the laptop he took with him everywhere he went, apparently finishing off an assignment. Trowa slept most of the way, knowing that he'd want to spend a large portion of the night looking out at the rainforest from the balcony that the house had. Trowa had always been fascinated by rainforests, mostly because of the enormous variety of unusual animals that resided there. He hoped to see some up close, and persuaded by Quatre's optimism on the subject, he'd brought along his video camera as well as a digital camera. And if something happened to his digital camera, he could always borrow Quatre's. Or Heero's.

 

Once they reached the house, having been driven there by taxi (1), the first thing Quatre and Trowa did (after tactfully tidying away or pushing to the side anything that Wufei might trip over) was unpack most of their stuff, leaving just the navy blue rucksack which contained various miscellaneous objects that were of the `just-in-case' variety. By the time that was finished it was past eleven and they all retired to bed, save Trowa, who stood on the balcony just as he'd known he would.

 

The warm, gentle breeze caressed Trowa's cheeks and played with his hair like a lover might, encouraging Trowa to simply close his eyes and enjoy the sensation. The tall acrobat did so, listening closely to the night-time noises that came from all around them. Birds, insects, mammals of all sorts; their various calls and cries livened up the muggy air.

 

Trowa opened his emerald eyes and picked up the free leaflet thing that had been lying on the doormat when they'd arrived. He flicked through it idly, looking at the stunning photographs and scanning over a couple of short articles. One in particular seemed to suddenly jump out at him; he stopped to read it more carefully, intrigued. It said:

 

But more interesting perhaps is the local myth of the `Panther Child'. According to the myth, a boy was lost at birth and found by the black panthers (panthera onca) that inhabit the rainforest, and was raised by them. He speaks their language and lives as one of their own. There have been several sightings of this Panther Child, but the people claiming to have seen him were not able to take a picture or any such solid evidence for various reasons.

Panthers are jaguars whose fur and skin pigments are naturally black; a result of genetic mutation. Though wolves have been known to raise human babies…

 

Trowa lost interest and returned to the first paragraph of the article. He read through it again, finding himself unusually fascinated. He allowed himself to half-believe it for a few moments before his more rational (and sceptical) mind kicked in. `They probably just saw a peculiar species of monkey,' he thought to himself.

 

Putting the leaflet on the seat of one of the wicker chairs on the balcony, Trowa yawned, covering his hand with his mouth as he did so, remembering what Wufei had said on the drive to the house; “My cousin's friend, Emilia, went to the Amazon rainforest one time, and when she yawned she accidentally swallowed an enormous mosquito. She says that they are the foulest tasting things on the planet. Save spiders, which taste like mouldy chicken according to her...”

 

A tiny smile made its way onto Trowa's elegant features. He'd have to be careful of that, if it was true.

 

He yawned again and, with one last look at the shadow-enshrouded trees, Trowa headed into the house, shutting the door that opened onto the balcony behind him.

 

Turning the corner, he carefully pushed open the cream-coloured door of his and Quatre's shared bedroom, slipping into the room silently and shutting the door. He smiled; Quatre was sleeping with his legs poking out from the bottom of the blanket and his arms out the top. He was barely covered by the blanket at all; it just sat in a large lump on his stomach and lower abdomen.

 

Trowa padded over and tried to arrange the blanket properly, but gave up when it became obvious that Quatre was sleeping on top of parts of the blanket, making it impossible for him to move it without disturbing him. Well, it was a warm night anyway. He certainly wouldn't be cold.

 

Trowa changed into his dark blue pyjama top and took his trousers off, leaving just his boxers on. He felt too warm for trousers. He lay in bed and wondered what they were going to do tomorrow. He was sure Wufei would be happy with anything that allowed him to learn something interesting, and Quatre would be happy as long as the others were happy.

 

Maybe they could get a guide to take them someway into the rainforest? That would be spectacular. Yes, he'd definitely suggest that tomorrrr…

 

~]~]~]~]~]~]~]~]~]~]~

 

(1) I've never been there, so have no idea whether there are taxis there. I would have assumed so, but… I dunno. Has anyone been there that can confirm this for me?

 

Sandy: ^^;; Where do my plot bunnies come up with these weird ideas…?! I really don't know, blame them not me! So what does everyone think? Good, bad, boring, interesting? I think it's fairly original, I don't think I've ever read a GW fanfic like this… Although I could be wrong… Kracken's `Instincts' fic (which is FAB by the way, go read!) is the closest I can think of right now, but… *shrugs*

Since Heero is kinda bastardized in my other fic, I decided to make him a whole lot nicer in this one. ^_^ organising a holiday is a nice thing to do! *hints at various people*

Anyway, please let me know what you think!