Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Post Up...And One! ❯ Crazy In Love ( Chapter 16 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Chapter Sixteen:
“Crazy In Love” Beyonce Knowles


Trowa narrowed his eyes with satisfaction upon seeing Quatre’s BMW in the appointed parking space, and quickly took the guest spot, shutting off the vehicle with a determined snap of his keys. Getting out, he focused on the front door of the blond’s apartment, and hurried over, determined to have words with the guy. They had to get things out straight, and leave no bullshit in between. He had to know what the hell Jake was doing, what Quatre was doing with him, what was going to happen now that Trowa was free, etc., etc. In other words, they had some serious discussions to accomplish.

He walked up to the door, lifting his hand to knock when he heard another car pull up. He glanced over to see that he didn’t recognize the silver Lexus, and knocked at the door harshly. If Jake was here...well... that would be killing two birds with one stone. Quatre couldn’t lie very well if confronted directly with an issue, and Trowa was sort of hoping that the single father was there. He was also hoping that he wasn’t.

The door opened, a familiar little boy peering out curiously. Trowa let loose with a small snarl upon recognizing the little boy, who looked at him with widening eyes.
Slowly, Michael took in the black Dickies, the black t-shirt with Jack Skellington on the front, the eyeliner, the multiple wrist adornments, and the motorcycle boots with metal adornments. His mouth dropped open as the doorknob slipped from his grasp.

“Are you...are you God?” he asked, in awe.

Trowa scowled at him, then barged in, looking for the blond and the single father. None were in sight.

“You look freaky, you psycho,” Michael continued, reaching out to poke at his watch cuff. Trowa snatched his arm away from the boy, and took in the empty living room and kitchen. Vengefully, he took the single step down from the living room and strode toward the back, Michael following.

Trowa vaguely registered a knock at the open door behind him, but he was bound and determined to interrupt something that should NOT be occurring within that back room. He marched into the bedroom with a snarl, startling Jake, who was busily kicking around the mess within the room, looking for something.

“What the fuck?” Jake asked in startled surprise, upon seeing Trowa.

“You!” Trowa snarled. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Dad! Dad! He smells funny!” Michael interjected.

“Michael! I told you never to open the door for strangers!”

“Excuse me, but this isn’t your home, and I’m no stranger here!”

“You’re strange looking, and that’s close enough!”

“Whatever the fuck you think you’re doing, you’re obviously out of place, here. You’ve no idea what the fuck you’re getting yourself involved with.”

“What the hell are you talking about, you sideshow freak?”

Michael sighed as more words were exchanged, and he heard a tentative “hello?” coming from the front, so he dashed out from the bedroom. Running into the living room, he saw a rather beautiful and familiar guy standing there, looking lost. He recognized him, and grinned. He knew exactly how to press Max’s buttons. The guy had no idea what to do with kids.

“I want to watch a movie!” he cried, running over to him. He knew how to work Quatre’s entertainment devices, but Max was fun to rile.

“Oh, er, well...um, why don’t you ask Quatre?” Max asked, looking more than uncomfortable as Michael dragged him over to where the movies were stashed haphazardly. It looked as if Quatre didn’t put the movies back into the cases after he was through with them.

“I wanna watch ‘Austin Powers’! Q’s in the shower, or taking a shit. Daddy’s fighting with someone in the back. I have no one to tend to my needs...I’m six years old, and I feel abandoned.”

“I’m...sorry to hear that, Michael,” Max said sympathetically as he searched the random collection for the movie.

“Do you wear makeup?” Michael asked him curiously, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “My mom says that men that wear makeup are fags. I don’t like fags. But I like Q because he’s cool. Are you a fag?”

“Er, uh, no. I don’t wear makeup. And ‘fag’ is a very hateful word.”

“That guy in Q’s bedroom is wearing makeup, and Daddy likes to fight him. I think he was looking for Q, but Q’s taking a shower, and that guy wants to talk to him, and I don’t think Daddy wants them to talk.”

Max straightened. “A guy wearing ‘makeup’? Trowa?”

“Daddy says that guys wearing makeups are fags. He’ll beat them up. He doesn’t like guys that like other guys, but I want Q to like my dad, and then for my dad to like Q, and then I could have two daddies, because I can’t stand Celia, and it would be fun to have two daddies cuz it’ll be all men, and we can do men things, and----I wanna watch AUSTIN!” Michael shrieked as Max abandoned his job to walk back there.

Michael immediately latched onto Max’s arm, and hung, deadweight, as the boy stumbled. Kicking and screaming at the top of his lungs, Michael managed to persuade Max back into the living room.

Of course, his tactic brought his father back into the living room, Trowa right behind him, to see if his son was being kidnaped. Upon viewing his son’s safety, Jake turned to start exchanging insults once more with the goth.

“Why don’t you take your RuPaul-modeling, freaky-ass looking face out of here?”

“I don’t have to listen to you. Who do you think you are, my father? Just because you made a mistake doesn’t make you father of everything!”

“You watch your fucking mouth, you–!”

“Guys, guys!” Max cried, intervening as he saw both males lunge at each other, Michael staring in utter fascination and horror. “What the hell is going on, here? Why are you two fighting?”

“Leave!” Jake commanded.

“You can’t make me,” Trowa replied smugly, and both of them reached out to grab at each other, but Max kept himself between them, knocking their arms out of connection. Michael rose from the floor, eyes wide and face cutely innocent as he watched the spectacle. “I knew you always had something for him, you closeted liar! How dare you lie to my face about it?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Jake retorted, but his face flushed.

“I know you two have something going on! I don’t mind the fact that my ex may have lowered his standards to find someone to briefly entertain himself with, but I mind the fucking fact that it’s you he chose to play with! I know you’ll fuck with his head! He’s so damn retarded, he doesn’t really think about what he’s doing until he gets hurt!”

“Get your fucking head out of his business!”

“Oh, God, you two,” Max interrupted, shoving them apart. Both were startled at the strength he used to pry them apart. He didn’t seem capable of the sort. “You both sound ridiculous. You are acting like toddlers over a toy! Quatre is not a toy, and he won’t appreciate this sort of behavior!...Where is he, anyway?”

“In the shower,” Jake replied. “What are you doing here? Where’s Passage?”

“Look, we’re not done with this,” Trowa began again, shoving Max’s arm away from him.

“Your freaky possessiveness is really getting on my nerves–!”

“Both of you! STOP!” Max commanded. Michael chose that moment to intervene, moving over to land a savage kick in the guy’s shin. As Max bent over in agony, Michael turned and kicked Trowa in the same spot.

“Stop yelling at my daddy!” he shouted fiercely at them both.

Trowa let loose with a snarl, stumbling, but reaching out to grab him. Jake lunged at him, and the two went flying toward the open door. Max, wincing, straightened to see Michael laughing as he ran after the pair.

“This is so ridiculous,” he muttered, walking away from the front door to head toward the back. He was determined to talk to Quatre–no matter what was going on right now. He ignored the shouts coming from the front of the apartment, and knocked hard on the bathroom door.

“WHAT?” he heard Quatre yell from inside.

Max felt his face flush as he realized that he didn’t know how to start this talk. Momentarily lost for words, he drummed his fingers against the door, and heard an unearthly human shriek from the front. Distracted, he ran out from the bedroom to see that Trowa had his arms full of a raging female, bent on his destruction.

“Oh my GOD!” he exclaimed, running out from the apartment. “What is going on?”

“How dare you just LEAVE me for him!!” Sylvia shrieked as she hit at anything connected to the goth. Jake was just laughing hysterically at the sight, while Trowa tried to fend off her savage feral-ness. “You fuck me over and leave me for HIM? After he left you for being such a prick? You think that he’d take you back so fucking easily? You fucking loser! LOSER!”

Max fretted, aware that the spectacle was gathering an interested crowd from Quatre’s neighbors. His phone rang at that moment, so he answered, watching as Trowa managed to push Sylvia off of him, keeping her wrists together.

“Hello?”

“Hi!” Felicia called from the other end. “Hey, when you comin’ home?”

“Ah...um...I’m at Quatre’s, right now, and–”

“What are you doing there? Is there a party going on? Who’s all there?”

“Ah...everyone...”

“Why aren’t I invited? Well, I’ll be there in ten minutes. Don’t leave.”

“NO! WAIT–!” Max sighed heavily as she hung up. Hanging his head back, he groaned, “I’m dead.”

“Kick his ass!” Jake was cheering.

“Of course I’d find you here!” Sylvia raged, ripping her arms away from Trowa, who looked very upset that she’d found him. “Of course you’d be here to hide! I know you had planned to be with him ever since he came back! I hate you! I hate you so much! I wish you were dead! All that shit I put up with you with, and you just LEAVE me without any explanation or word? COWARD! You Goddamned COWARD!”

“Sylvia, now’s not the time to discuss this,” Trowa growled, angrily flushed as he realized what a crowd he’d drawn. “Look, I’m sorry if I led you on, or hurt your feelings–”

“‘HURT MY FEELINGS’? ‘LED ME ON?’” Sylvia shrieked, her face turning an unnatural color of purple-red. “YOU BASTARD! Do you realize how STUPID you sound, Trowa Barton?”

“I–!”

“Oh my GOD! TROWA BARTON!” someone shrieked from the audience that had gathered. “I LOVE YOU!”

“Oh, snaps! It is! Hey, TROWA! Can I have you autograph me?”

“Wow! You sure look better in person!”

Trowa stopped fending off Sylvia’s hits, and looked, rather astonished, at those people yelling. His face then burned with humiliation as he had full idea of what they were talking about (certainly not his paintings), and wondered Why Me? as Sylvia managed a full slap against his left cheek. Wincing, he reached up to cover his stinging flesh as Sylvia pulled back from him, huffing and puffing with rage. Her eyes were clouded with tears, her hair in disarray, and when he looked at her, he felt so sorry for her.

Jake looked back with confusion as several people (most of them male) moved forward, all of them with a certain, rabid hunger that was reserved for well-known celebrities. A rather hefty woman with bright red hair lunged at Sylvia, and all hell broke loose.

Amid all the shrieks for autographs and Sylvia’s angry cries, he moved away from the crowd, looking for his son. Michael had content himself with watching “Family Guy”, and was chewing happily at a piece of bread.

“Hi, dad!” he said cheerily. “It’s crazy out there, huh?”

“Very. Listen, I’m going to shut that door. You make sure you don’t answer it if someone knocks, all right? And if someone does, you come get me,” Jake instructed, pointing at the door.

Michael shrugged, curling up comfortably on the couch as his father shut the door and locked it.

Jake could still hear the anxious screams and shouts from outside, and he shook his head in exasperation as he walked back toward Quatre’s bedroom. Hearing that the other male was finally out of the shower, he picked up a clear path from the doorway to the bed, and sat down at the edge.

Quatre emerged from the bathroom, yawning loudly as he dried his hair with a towel. He was dressed in a pair of cargo shorts and a tee, looking cutely disheveled as he spotted Jake. Grinning, he tossed the towel aside and asked, “Did you order anything, yet?”

“I have Chinese on the way. By the by, Trowa tried to call you, earlier.”

“Really? Huh...”

“You know, I think you need to set that guy straight, Winner. I think he’s confused by the attention that you give him. That you lead him on.”

“I don’t. I mean, he knows that I...I don’t want to get back together, or anything. I...how could he be confused? I don’t lead him on,” Quatre said in confusion, sliding his feet into a pair of houseshoes.

“Well...he called...you know, I don’t mind if you guys talk, it’s just...You...I don’t know. Maybe I’m making a big deal out of nothing, but it looks like you two have some...clearing up to do.”

“Eh?” Quatre looked at Jake curiously, noting the frown and the set expression. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. I mean...he knows where I stand. He knows I don’t want to get back with him. He takes things out of context. I’d rather not.”

“He’s gonna keep chasing you, Quatre, until you put your foot down. He reminds me of a dog.”

“Well, he knows that I don’t want him,” Quatre grumbled, running his hands through his hair. He caught faint shouts coming from outside, and turned to look out the window. But from this angle, he couldn’t see what was going down, so he lost interest in what was happening. He looked back at Jake, then looked around. “Where’s Michael?”

“Watching tv. No, I think you should lay it out straight, Quatre,” Jake persisted, frowning at him. “You need to talk to him. He doesn’t listen to me.”

“‘Listen to you’? What do you mean?”

“Oh, we’ve talked. But, ah, we don’t stay on the same lines. He needs to learn that you aren’t with him anymore. He won’t listen to anyone but you.”

“When did you guys talk?”

“Earlier. He called your cell while you were asleep. Why did you try and call him last night?” Jake then asked curiously.

Quatre reddened as his thoughts on the matter returned to him. Then he flushed darkly at the thought of Jake rummaging through his phone. Why do they always do that? He asked himself with an exasperated mental groan. As soon as you decide you want to be with someone, they always find need to go through your personal stuff...

“I...uh...was going to tell him exactly what you told me,” he muttered. “When I’m drunk, I’m brave. And stupid. Why did you go through my calls?”

“I’m sorry,” Jake then apologized with an embarrassed flush of his own. “It’s just that when Trowa called, the number said it was a repeat. So...I just...checked.”

“You don’t lie very well.”

“Well...Since you’re capable of drunk dialing, I just grew curious as to who else it was you were talking to...”

“Er...well...it wasn’t anything. Else. Honest. I mean...cheating isn’t something that I look up to in a person,” Quatre muttered, running his hands through his hair again. Then his eyes widened, and he gave a startled yell. Racing out of his room, he began searching for his phone. Upon seeing Michael on the couch, he hurried over to the boy, and sat on him while he squealed and laughed.

Quatre dialed Max’s number, sliding from the boy to sit on the floor while Michael wrapped both bony arms around his neck and tried to choke him.

When Max answered his cell, Quatre began laughing hysterically. “YOU WERE SO DRUNK!”

“Quatre? We need to talk–!”

“Damn straight! I won’t tell if you won’t! You’ll be castrated for what you did last night!”

“Wha–? I–! No! I mean–! Are you out of the shower, yet?”

“Well, DUH!”

“Then let me in!”

Quatre gave a confused expression, then rose from the floor, moving over to open the door. Once he did, though, he saw the big crowd outside his apartment. His eyes widened in surprise, and Max hurried over to him, looking thoroughly embarrassed.

“I don’t remember much of what I did, last night, but it had to be something terrible!” Max exclaimed, reaching out to hold onto his shoulders. “You remember anything?”

“Well...yeah...what’s going on out here?”

Max turned and surveyed the crowd. “Well, when Trowa and Sylvia were having words, someone recognized Trowa, and they all just started swamping him.”

“Trowa’s here?” Quatre asked in dismay. “ And Sylvia?”

“Yes. She’s very pissed. But enough about that! Quatre! What happened last night?” Max asked, looking terribly upset. “I don’t remember a thing! I–!”

“Let’s just say you’re a wild man when you drink!” Quatre laughed, grinning at him. “Now I definitely know you’re bi!”

“Quatre! I–!”

“YYYOOOOUUUU!”

“ ;GAH!” Quatre screamed in surprise as he was tackled to the pavement under a one hundred and fifty pound female. Max had to reach out and catch himself against the back of a spectator just keep himself from falling. The spectator, a rather burly male with a thick neck and designs on NFL millions, nearly swooned at whom he had to catch.

“You did this to us! You broke us up!” Sylvia shrieked, intent on bashing Quatre’s head into the sidewalk pavement. “I hate you! I hate you! I was driven to madness with my hate for you! I never ever ever ever act like this! I HATE YOU for ruining my life with him!”

“He started it!” Quatre cried, trying to get her off of him. But she was female, and he definitely couldn’t swing at her, or perform any other physical removal. He had a thing against hitting females–Felicia didn’t count.

“You encouraged him! You knew that you could get him back, and you worked it by being all ‘innocent’ and helpless!” Sylvia growled, grabbing handfuls of his shirt and thumping him against the pavement. “You called him and left him messages, knowing that he was with me! That he couldn’t resist you!”

“You make me out to be some femme fatale!”

“YOU ARE NOTHING MORE THAN SCUM TO ME!” she shrieked, slapping at him. “I hate you! I hope I never see you both ever again! After all the shit I put up with, I had you two to drag me down to the dirt, where YOU TWO live! I hope this happens to you!”

“ARGH! Stop slapping me!”

“You can have him, you whore! Keep that insignificant scum away from me, and I hope you’re both happy with each other!” Sylvia shrieked, rising from him, and then stomping her heel into his groin. As Quatre clutched himself and rolled over in pain, she whirled around, setting her furious sight on Trowa, who was still being swamped by his ‘fans’. “AND YOU!! I hope your dick shrivels and DIES! I hope you get HERPES! I hope that the next person you’re with, which is this scum here, CHEATS ON YOU AND MAKES YOU AS MISERABLE AS I AM! And same to you!”

After kicking Quatre once more, she turned and started off.

Max and Jake were watching with wide eyes as she passed, and both ducked into Quatre’s apartment when she whirled on them.

“As for you two! How DARE you watch and laugh!” she bellowed, picking up handfuls of grass and hurling clumps at them both. “What kind of men are you to watch this shit and laugh about it?”

And then, with a forceful whirl, Sylvia walked away from the chaos. She burst into angry tears as she climbed into her car. When she emerged, she was welding a baseball bat. The spectators that were watching were gasping with delighted surprise.

“Wow...I’d never seen her so pissed before,” Max whistled as he and Jake peered out from the doorway cautiously. Sylvia marched over to Quatre’s BMW. She checked the appointed number to make sure that it matched the number on his apartment, and gripped the bat with evil design.

“She is pissed,” Jake agreed.

“Definitely...” Max stepped out from the apartment to hurry over to Quatre, who was trying not to throw up. The pain from being kicked in the balls was something that made every guy utterly miserable. “Are you all right?”

“Feels like I’m going to throw up my balls,” Quatre groaned miserably. “Leave me alone to die...”

“Get up, Winner. She didn’t kick you that hard,” Jake snorted, walking over to roughly haul him to his feet. Max caught him as he started to slump over, moaning as he held himself. “Besides, you deserved that shit. Maybe next time you’ll think about the consequences should you ever decide to help someone cheat on someone.”

Max fretted about that, recalling that he and Quatre had ‘something’ going on last night.

Then, there was the impressive sound of metal against metal, causing everyone to look up. Quatre saw that Sylvia had just bashed in his front driver’s side light, multicolored glass littering the pavement. She raised the bat again, and made a homerun with the driver’s side side mirror.

“DAMN!” Max and Jake shouted, in a mixture of laughter and amazement. Quatre’s mouth just dropped open, and all his pains were forgotten as he watched his car become victim to a mad female’s rage.

Sylvia pulled the bat back, and grunted with the effort of driving the windshield into the dash. She then focused her rage on destroying all the windows to his car, and finished by destroying all his lights. By the time she was done, the BMW resembled something that should have belonged to the junkyard. Quatre could have wept at its destruction had it not been unmanly to do so.

With a puff of satisfaction, Sylvia turned and eyed him, clenching the bat tightly within both hands. At this, Quatre ducked behind Jake, who laughed as he moved out of the way.

“You deal with your shit, man. Don’t hide behind me,” Jake said, hiding behind Max.

“C’mon, Sylvia!” Quatre whined, hands in his hair. “You made your point. Look...I know there’s nothing I can say that can make it all better–!”

“DAMN RIGHT!” Sylvia shrieked. “Both of you are fucked up! Both of you deserve each other! I fucking hope the both of you rot together!”

“You go, girl!” someone shouted from the crowd.

“Give ‘em hell!”

“SHERIDAN! Which one’s your car?” Sylvia demanded, looking for more blood.

“Come now, Sylvia–I didn’t–I wasn’t involved!” Max protested, waving his hands about.

“Which one’s yours, Trowa?”

Several people in the crowd helped by pointing out Trowa’s car, the goth giving a stunned expression as she marched over, and proceeded to beat the hell out of it as well. He slapped both hands to his head as she destroyed what she physically could.

Afterward, she tossed the bat aside, and gave them both evil-eyed stares. Though there were a couple of tears racing down her cheeks, she still looked proud enough to turn her back on the damage she did. She turned, calmly climbed into her own vehicle, and drove off. Several women in the crowd cheered for a job well done as both Quatre and Trowa stared at their destroyed cars in shock.

“Fags!” Someone shouted amid laughter.

Quatre sighed, dragging his hand down his face. “I deserved that. I know I did. But why in the hell did she have to destroy my fucking CAR? It’s all HIS FAULT for getting with a psycho!”

“She’s nothing compared to you, you spastic freak!” Trowa bellowed back.

“I’m spastic? You’re the freak!”

“Listen here, you blond idiot–!”

“WHAT? IDIOT? YOU GET OVER HERE AND TELL THAT TO MY FACE!” Quatre roared, pulling off one of his house shoes and flinging it at him.

Trowa immediately started walking over, with the crowd shouting their approval for a fight. Jake immediately intervened, kicking Quatre into the apartment and slamming the door shut. Holding the knob tightly with one hand, he faced Trowa with a frown.

“I think you’ve caused enough excitement today, friend,” he said, refusing to budge as Quatre pounded at the door and worked the knob with various threats.

Trowa cocked his head, staring down at the older male. “You don’t tell me what to do,” he growled. “I have every right to be here. I don’t need someone like you getting into my face and telling me what to do.”

“I’ll tell you what to do, even if you’re too idiotic to listen to me,” Jake growled back. “You can have words with him all you want, but when it starts to get pathetic–”

“‘Pathetic’?” ;

“–PATHETIC, then I find myself intervening.”

“Because you know he still has feelings for me, and that’s why you always interfere, isn’t it?” Trowa asked smoothly, the crowd behind them listening with straining ears. There were wide eyes all around and even a couple of camera phones pointed in their direction. “You’re scared.”

Jake narrowed his eyes, then scowled at him as he presented his back, opened the door, and shut it right back in Trowa’s face.

Trowa smirked, the evil curl of his lips visible to those watching nearby. He eyed the closed door, and for the fact that he could hear arguing inside, and turned around. Various people were staring openly at him, waiting for SOMETHING. Scowling and reddening at the attention, he turned and made his way to his battered car.

Jake may have won the battle, but not the war.

#20#20#20#20#20#20#20

Later on that night, Michael had passed out on the front couch, and Quatre was putting away his clothes. He was more than sullen that he had to fix up his car, thanks to Sylvia’s rage, and things weren’t being helped when Jake just laughed about it. But Quatre had sure learned his lesson.

After the excitement had died down, Max had left with Felicia, and Trowa had left sometime after being released from the crowd outside. Though there were some stragglers remaining, eager to watch for more thrills, the apartment had quieted down, and they had eaten their Chinese dinner in relative peace.

“You know, the shop on Third in Marysville has a good deal for windows,” Jake said, where he was lounging atop Quatre’s bed, looking through a magazine. “They’ll give you a deal if you tell them your girl hit out your windows. Or...whatever.”

“How much?”

“For the windshield, about one thirty. For your car, of course. It’s where I always went when Celia fucked up my shit. For your sides, you should hit up that place on Rock. They’ll do your doors, lights and mirrors, actually. You don’t have to take it to the dealer to get it done, or else they’ll charge you up the ass.”

“But then again, I don’t care about money,” Quatre said, frowning at him.

Jake shrugged, flipping the page. “Just giving you suggestions. It’d probably be a good idea for you to get it done at the dealer, anyway. That way, they get it done within a week.”

“I don’t want to wait a week. I have training and practice coming up. I need my car to get around. Plus that, I’ve got my job to go to!” Quatre said on a sigh, yawning. “I need my car.”

“When does practice start?”

“The twentieth. Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays, from five to eight. It’s seriously going to kill me. Plus then, I’ve got work. But Dost said he’d work with it.”

“You think you can handle all this activity?” Jake asked curiously. “Work? Hoops? School?”

“I...I think so. I mean, it can’t be that hard,” Quatre said, but there wasn’t as much conviction in his tone as what he felt.

Jake shook his head, and pondered the magazine’s contents. “You’ll find out, I suppose. Hey...c’mere.”

Quatre set down the last of his shoes, and sighed heavily as he crawled onto the bed with him, feeling his arm snake around his shoulders. He could have purred if he were capable of doing so–one thing he really liked about Jake was his physical expression, something Quatre really enjoyed.

“Seeing as you’re going to be busy, we probably won’t be able to see each other as much,” Jake said into his hair. “On that note...what’s going on...you know...with us?”

“Is there an ‘us’?” Quatre asked, placing a kiss on the older male’s shoulder. He inhaled deeply of his unique scent, momentarily forgetting everything that happened recently. He adjusted himself so that he was lying facing him, with his face tucked against Jake’s neck. This position, of course, prevented Jake from looking at his magazine.

“I don’t know. Is there? I mean...yeah, we have something goin’ on, but...what is it?”

“What do you think?” Quatre asked, running his lips to Jake’s neck, touching stubble and the warmth emanating from this area. His tongue flicked out to caress his Adam’s Apple as he swallowed.

“I...just to be sure...well, my thoughts on this are that...Michael likes you. He really does, Quatre. And... and you know he comes first, right? I mean...I base all my decisions on...on his needs...And...I don’t think that...that he should know, quite yet...that you and I...you need to stop that. I can’t talk.”

“But I’m listening,” Quatre murmured, suckling gently at his pulse point, adjusting himself more comfortably against him. “You’re saying you want ‘us’ to be an ‘us’, but you don’t want Michael finding out.”

“Ah...yeah...but...not like that. It’s just...Quatre...if it doesn’t work out, I don’t want him...getting hurt. I mean, I would like us to be friends, but if...I don’t know. Just...I...am sort of hesitant on being a ‘couple’, because then, if we were, and his mother’s family found out about it, and–see, I can’t quite accept the fact that I am accepting another male’s affection, and it’s sort of hazy in that area, and–”

“Can I touch you?” Quatre asked, running his hands over his back, but still kissing along his neck.

“You’re not even listening!”

“You’re just unsure if you can accept yourself being gay with me,” Quatre mumbled, pulling Jake’s collar so that he could trail kisses along his collar bone. “And, for Celia’s family finding out that you’re playing homo with me.”

“Yeah...Yeah. And, I don’t know. I can’t do this...this until I’m sure that I want this, and I don’t want to go and hurt your feelings when I refuse or accept...something...and–”

“Jake, what’s your thoughts on sex?”

“...Now I know you’re not listening to me, Winner. Get off, you leech,” Jake muttered, pushing Quatre away from him. The blond flopped onto the floor with a surprised sound as Jake sat up, feeling more than flustered as he adjusted his shirt. “I just want to know how things are gonna stand, Q. That’s all. I didn’t ask to be seduced, or anything.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a prude?” Quatre muttered from the floor. “Fine, fine. Let’s get the boring stuff out of the way, first. Are you going to spend the night?”

“...I don’t know. I..don’t want to wake him up, yet. And what do you mean, a prude? I’m not a prude. I’d just like to get things straight, first.”

“Well, then, what’s your thoughts on sex?”

“...That’s not what I wanted to–”

“I told you before, Trip, I’m a needy human being. I need sex. I need physical relations! If that’s denied to me, dammit, I get cranky.”

“...I–Quatre! That’s not the topic I’d like to discuss!”

“You sound like one of those demure maidens I’m forced to study in English. Ooh, my virtue! My virtue!”

“...Shut up! I do not.”

“Besides, only girls talk about relationships and shit like that, Jake!” Quatre whined as he rose from the floor, sitting beside him. “Let’s just take it as it is. If you want, then Michael doesn’t have to know. I’m okay with that. I understand the whole straight thing, and...if you want, I guess I don’t mind that it’s gonna be like that. As long as I’m able to be with you, things should be okay!”

Jake gave him a skeptical look, reaching up to fiddle with his earring. At the recognized sign of the male’s nervousness, Quatre grinned, leaning his chin upon his shoulder and clinging onto his arm.

“I’m very simple to take care of if my needs are met,” he said, fitting himself against him. “And I won’t be in the way...like you said before, most of my time will be taken. And–”

“So, what you’re saying, is that this ‘thing’ will be based on sex and the occasional relationship bit behind closed doors?” Jake recited in a flat drawl.

“If it’s okay with you, of course! I mean...Jake, I like you. I admire you, and respect you. And for you to think of me in the way that you do makes me happy. I’m willing to do anything that makes you comfortable and happy, okay? No one has to know anything, all right? They won’t find out, that’s for sure. Who’s going to tell? No one knows!”

Jake sighed, thinking about this as Quatre’s words sank in. While he was more than hesitant on the ‘sex’ bit, he had to admit to himself that he really enjoyed Quatre’s presence. He really enjoyed being with him. He liked the guy, more than he should have, and any time with him was something he looked forward to. If they had to keep it secret, then...he would work to keep it secret.

He looked back at Quatre, who was busy planting kisses on his shoulder. He pushed the blond’s head back, staring into those blue/green depths. “I’m going to hold you to your word, Quatre,” he said seriously. “I would like to keep this...behind doors. I mean, I know it sounds wrong, but...I’m not fully ready to do that admitting thing, and...anything to keep Michael from getting hurt.”

“Right–”

“But you have to admit it, yourself, Quatre. I can’t be your other half without fully committing myself to you. If this is just a ‘thing’, something that’s casual, then that’s it. That’s all. There are limits as to what I can do, or what I can’t do for you, all right? If you pressure me into doing something that isn’t comfortable for me, I’ll let you know. If you manage to trick me into doing something that isn’t part of our agreement, then I’ll work you over. Got it?”

“Great! Now...about sex...”

“GWAH! Are you even LISTENING?”

“Yes! I understand! Fully!”

“Which meant, on that note, that I am not comfortable with that aspect, yet. The thought of doing another guy’s asshole gives me the creeps. And I don’t want to do anything in that sort of measure!”

“BUT–! But–!”

“And there’s no WAY in hell you’re getting anything up in me, got it?”

“JAKE! You’re taking away all my sex!”

“And, along this note, if you go to that drag queen for things that I cannot give, it’s OFF,” Jake growled, tightening his grip on Quatre’s hair. “Is that understood?”

“Ow...crystal...jeez, lay off the violence. I want a domestic violence free relationship...unless I’m the one throwing the punches.”

“Quatre, I’m being serious...”

Quatre sighed, head hanging as he realized his libido was going to be put on hold for a while...until he could convince the older male that sex up the ass was fun. He nodded with a pitiful expression, unsure of how he was going to get through this. Whining, slumping so that his head was resting on Jake’s thigh, he wondered what he’d just agreed to, having been distracted by the male’s nearness. Then he perked, grinning devilishly as he positioned himself near his crotch.

“Let me blow you, then,” he said, dropping his face onto where Jake’s bulge was.

The older male gave a startled sound at the contact, and pushed him away once again. “GOD! You’re horny all the time, aren’t you!”

“ARGH! I just told you! C’mon! You don’t have to do anything but just sit there! C’mon! Let me! Let me!”

“No. I’m going to check on Michael.”

Quatre sighed and whined in disappointment as he flopped back on his bed. Pitifully, he moaned, “But I’m horny...”

Once he was sure Jake was out of earshot, he muttered to himself, “Trowa would have let me.”