Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Promises ❯ Promises Made ( Chapter 1 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Marika Webster 
The night of Megan's 18th birthday, confrontations are made between Quatre and Wufei.
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 02.16.2005 | Updated On: 02.16.2005 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.3K | Visits: 251 | Status: Work In Progress
The night of Megan's 18th birthday, confrontations are made between Quatre and Wufei.
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 02.16.2005 | Updated On: 02.16.2005 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.3K | Visits: 251 | Status: Work In Progress
Megan cursed as she stopped the pottery wheel. Her bowl, the required project for her class final, collapsed as though on cue. She resisted the urge to groan aloud and instead reached forward and punched the clay into something vaguely resembling a ball once more. She lifted the heavy mass and rose from her seat. She crossed the room to her designated worktable and sighed.
“You know it would be a lot easier if you would just relax. Stop trying to make it so perfect.” Alex winced as Megan dropped the clay unceremoniously in an unrecognizable lump onto the table.
Megan shook her head and vigorously began working at the clay once more. “If I don’t get an D on this project my fathers will flip out. It means I’ll only get a C in the class. They just don’t understand how they could have raised a child who could possibly fail pottery not once, but twice. I tried to explain that the teacher doesn’t grade on creativity or effort… but noooo.” She eyed her friend wearily. “How’s your mom?”
“Much better, thanks for asking.” Alex adjusted his seat on the stool, jade eyes focused on the clay-covered plastic spoon he was using to imprint swirls into his pot with. “She just finished her last round of chemo and her hair is starting to come back in already.”
“That’s good.” Megan paused, regarding her clay. “Maybe I’ll just make it a sculpture. I can call it ‘Ball of Clay’.”
Alex snorted. “Good try. I’m sure Professor Sonier will be as impressed as she was with last week’s ‘square of clay’.”
Megan reached for the saran wrap and ripped off a long section. “I’m done for today. I have to go home and get changed. You’re coming to the party, right?”
“Wouldn’t miss it. I’ll be there along with all the other social rejects.” Alex chuckled dryly.
Megan released a laugh as she placed the abused clay on the storage shelf and moved to the sink to wash up. “Good. We’ll be miserable and unpopular together.”
It didn’t hurt her feelings to know that Alex was dead on. She’d bonded with the odd young man her first day of classes 4 years ago. It had taken 6 months of begging and pleading to talk her parents into letting her accept NYU’s offer of early admission into their liberal arts program. They’d been adamant that she deserved to experience a regular high school atmosphere instead of skipping straight from the Montessori program she’d been in her entire life. She’d argued right back that the entire purpose of the self-paced program was to let her go at her own rate, even if it meant leaving the other children in the proverbial dust. Her crowning argument had been that she’d never have regular high school experience given who her parents and extended family were. They’d crumbled soon after that statement. After all, having the ESUN President for your aunt and the CEO of the largest corporation in existence for a father didn’t exactly lend itself to a normal childhood.
Alex had been one of the other students also in the accelerated program at the University. They’d both been wide-eyed and slightly out of place amongst the “prodigies” as they’d come to call their classmates. They were the oldest of the bunch, at the ripe age of 14, being only 3 months apart. In Alex she’d found her first real friend that wasn’t a cousin or other relative. They’d experienced all the things other kids did together. Their first driving lessons, their first fender bender (Megan’s fault) their first marijuana induced high (Alex’s idea) and their first date. It had been after that fateful date that Megan had sadly shook her head and Alex nodded in agreement. He’d announced a few weeks later that he’d figured out why there was no chemistry there.
Megan still chuckled at the memory of her very preppy, very nerdy best friend nervously declaring that he was gay. He’d been so scared, so afraid of rejection from the rest of their oddball friends that Megan had laughed out loud, inadvertently hurting his feelings. When she’d explained the ridiculousness of it all, he’d been suitably pissed. That had been their first disagreement, but not their last. Now it was the week before graduation. She and Alex both, were slated to graduate with their BAs, that was if she passed pottery.
Her cell phone vibrated in her overall’s pocket, sharply bringing her back to reality. She quickly dried her hands on a clean towel and shut off the alarm mode. “I have to go. My uncle’s picking me up. He’s taking me shopping for a dress.”
“You’re not very good at being a girl, you know that right?” Alex snickered. “Any other proper young woman would have had her dress weeks ago.”
“Yeah, but any other girl doesn’t have 5 gay men who think their God’s gift to fashion trying to dress them either.” She retorted dryly as she grabbed the beat up leather satchel and slung it over her shoulder. She waved cheerfully and sprint to the staircase, hoping Duo wasn’t later than the usual 10 minute lag she’d made accommodations for. The rest of the world ran on Greenwich standard time… Duo ran on a different clock, one the family had aptly named “Duo-time”. Duo-time was consistently 10 minutes later than regular time, on a good day.
As she flew out the front door of the arts building, her uncle peeled into the parking lot. She flinched as he narrowly missed hitting a pedestrian crossing the parking lot. “Flair and abandon.” She muttered beneath her breath as the vintage mustang screeched to a halt in front of her. She approached the car and steeled herself for what would obviously be a ride to remember. But then, riding with Duo always had it’s risks. A small part of her wished she’d insisted on driving her own car and meeting him at Hilde’s shop.
“Hey, Meggie.” Duo greeted happily, reaching over to turn the stereo down to an acceptable level. He adjusted the hearing aid in his right ear to a higher volume. “How was school?”
“You know, I’m absolutely astonished you’re not completely deaf after 35 years of listening to music as that volume, Duo.” She ignored his question and tugged at his braid pointedly.
He shrugged good-naturedly. “I’m 33.” He retorted promptly. “Hardly an old man. And I wish you wouldn’t nag, you’re worse than Heero.”
“Well he has a point. Both of us do actually.” She pointed out.
He snickered. “You are relentless aren’t you? Fasten your seatbelt, we’re gonna be late as it is.”
Megan bit back a comment on his sense of timing and obediently buckled herself in. He punched the clutch and set the car into gear. “Heero got called out of town on a mission, so he’s not going to be able to make it to the party. He said to tell you he’s very sorry. He also sent you that.” Duo pointed to an envelope taped the dashboard.
She fought back the rising disappointment at the idea that her uncle would miss the party. It wasn’t everyday a girl turned 18, but still, she’d learned not to complain about it. Saving the world was a job that had to be done, even if it did involve lousy scheduling conflicts. Tucked inside the card, simply signed with the initial H M-Y, was a check. She smiled a little at the silly message on the card. “You helped pick out the card, didn’t you?”
Duo glanced over to her, his expression guilty. “Cupcake, it’s not your fault that Heero doesn’t remember dates very well.” His voice was soft. “He doesn’t even remember our anniversary and we’ve been married for 10 years. He did good to remember your age. He’s just not as detail oriented as he used to be.”
Megan returned the smile. “It’s okay. I’m glad you helped him remember. It’s a sweet gesture.”
Duo cleared his throat. “Did I tell you what Ben did yesterday?”
He was referring to his and Heero’s youngest son, 5 year old Benjamin. Megan could tell he was uncomfortable with the subject of his spouse’s unintentional slight and wanted to change the subject. She decided to have pity on him, just this once. “No… tell me.”
He launched into a recitation of the latest in “The Maxwell-Yuy Adventures in Parenting.” Megan simply sat and listened with half an ear, allowing her mind to wander as she stared at her uncle profile. It was easy to get lost in his story-telling, but something completely unrelated to the tale was niggling at the back of her mind. Something that had been bothering her in increasing degrees through out the day. The nervousness in the pit of her stomach had a name. It always had. Wufei.
***************************************************
Quatre cleared his throat as he watched the staircase. Beside him, Trowa was involved in deep conversation with Sally and Dorothy. He surreptitiously glanced at his watch. Megan should be appearing any minute. As if on cue, his oldest daughter appeared at the top of the staircase. His heart leapt into his throat at the sight of her, as it always did these days. It was so hard to imagine that so many years had passed since the first time he’d laid eyes on her. She’d been so small, so heartbreakingly lost and so very sad. Now, she radiated with calm self-assurance. He elbowed Trowa sharply in the ribs.
His husband grunted in protest to the rough move and turned to see what the fuss was about. Quatre’s heart fluttered in response to the surge of pride that Trowa instantly felt. The blond man’s hand automatically went to his heart, rubbing it reflexively when that pride was replaced with a flush of surprise when he realized what their child was wearing. Beside him, Trowa stiffened. Quatre’s eyes drifted to his husband’s form. His expression had darkened visibly. Quatre bit back a chuckle. Trowa pasted on a tight smile and muttered for Quatre’s ears only. “What the hell is that?”
Quatre rested a restraining hand on Trowa’s arm. “That, my love, is a young woman.”
Trowa cast a glare at him and snorted, mimicking his tone perfectly. “No, that, dearest, is what will cause Duo Maxwell great bodily harm. Every male in the room is staring.”
“Yes, Trowa. They are. Because she’s beautiful, not because of her dress.” Quatre’s thumb stroked the spot just inside Trowa’s elbow. His lover’s weak spot. Trowa sighed heavily, relaxing instantly. Quatre turned his gaze back to Megan, who’d reached the bottom of the steps. The dress, he reflected, really wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. It was a bright red, as befitted their daughter’s vibrant personality, and cut modestly, revealing nothing to the naked eyes, but clinging in all the right places. All in all, she looked lovely. Hilde had done as good a job as usual. Quatre silently thanked Allah that the woman had found a passion in the unexpected of fashion design, and that she would accept a bribe every now and then to alter a neckline or hemline here and there.
Quatre’s heart quickened. His breath caught in his throat and he immediately realized that the calm Megan had felt was now shattered. It was replaced by a familiar ache and nervousness. His sought her out across the room, his eyes confirming what his heart already knew. Wufei was near his daughter. He swallowed hard and slipped his free hand into his pocket fisting it tightly within the confines of his slacks. Trowa, luckily didn’t notice. If he had, he’d have known immediately the unease in Quatre’s expression.
The taller man didn’t turn from his conversation, instead speaking earnestly about some subject or other. Quatre fought back a wave of worry and disappointment. Megan caught his eyes and smiled brilliantly, obviously not noticing his frown either. He mustered a weak smile in return and winked at her. His gaze traveled from Megan, who’d turned back to her group of friends, to Wufei who was nursing a glass of champagne and speaking to Milliardo and Relena. The hand that held the champagne was unadorned, but his right hand, the one that was relaxed at his side… there as usual on his ring finger was the thin braided band he’d been wearing for 13 years.
Quatre distinctly remember the day they’d decided to keep Megan, it had been the same day Wufei had returned their daughter to them bearing more packages than any child had a use for, and on a chain around her neck, she’d had a matching band. He’d been just short of livid. Trowa had managed to calm him with the rationale that the future was a long way off and Megan wouldn’t remember something so silly when she was older. It would fade into the promise made by an indulgent uncle to a favored niece.
But she hadn’t forgotten. Neither had Wufei forgotten his promise to wear the ring either. Whenever Quatre had seen the Chinese man from that day onward, he’d always worn the ring, unobtrusively on the same finger, never removing it. When Quatre had questioned him about it a few years after the fact, Wufei had steadfastly refused to remove it, flatly telling Quatre that he always honored his promises.
Now, 13 years later, Quatre was once again reminded of the foolish promise his friend had made on an indulgent whim. Surely Megan had forgotten by now, hadn’t she? He relaxed a little, chuckling to himself as he remembered the relief he’d felt when she’d asked permission to go on her first date. He’d been so relieved that she’d stopped fixating on Wufei and he’d prayed earnestly that she’d fall in love, really fall in love, with Alex. Then when she’d gone through her experimental phase and dated a girl, he’d prayed she’d be a lesbian, all the while feeling guilty for wanting to impose his own wishes on the daughter he loved more than life itself. After all, sexuality wasn’t a choice, it was instinctive. But Allah how relieved he’d been when she’d announced her date for the spring dance at NYU was a girl from her class named Cynthia.
That hadn’t lasted more than a month either. As Quatre recalled, Megan was at 16, as much a bundle of hormones as he himself had been. After a while, he’d contented himself with being grateful she hadn’t turned up drunk or Allah-forbid, pregnant. As far as he knew she’d confined her sexual experimentation to a few stolen kisses, interrupted when he and Trowa flashed the porch light at inopportune times.
He supposed though, that overall they’d done a good job with her. There had been a few scary moments as there were with any child, but nothing really horrible. She was happy healthy… and as of tonight, an adult. He’d resigned himself to letting go eventually. But now faced with the reality of it, why was it breaking his heart?
**************************************
Wufei caught Quatre’s eye and smiled, giving a relaxed wave. The other man made his way over touching his arm lightly. “Wufei, may I have a word alone with you? It will only take a moment.”
The Chinese man nodded. “Of course.” He excused himself from his conversation with the Peacecraft siblings and followed Quatre to one of the anterooms off the ballroom. His curiosity was piqued when Quatre quietly closed the doors to the room, effectively assuring them privacy. His brow wrinkled. “What did you want to speak to me about?”
Quatre regarded him quietly for a moment, then slipped his hands in his pocket and smiled benignly. Wufei’s frown deepened. He knew that expression. It was Quatre entering strategy mode. “Tell me something, Wufei, and please be honest because you know I’ll know if you’re lying.”
“Of course.” Wufei sternly reminded himself not to be offended by the implication that after almost 20 years of friendship, he’d be anything but honest with Quatre.
“Do you remember why you wear that ring?” Quatre’s words were pointed, quiet.
Understanding dawned on Wufei. He chuckled and smiled wryly. “That’s what was so important?”
“Just answer the question, Wufei.” Quatre’s tone brooked no argument.
Wufei sobered instantly. “Yes, of course I remember. I made Megan a promise.”
“Exactly, and I want to know what your intentions are.” His friend did not hesitate.
Wufei drew in a deep breath. “My intentions, Quatre, are to keep my promise. I will ask Megan out for dinner, she’ll refuse and I’ll be absolved from any further responsibility. My promise will have been honored and I’ll be free to remove the ring.”
Again, the blond did not give a moment’s pause before hissing in apparent annoyance. “You really think she’ll refuse you?”
It was official, Wufei was confused. He frowned again. “Of course she will. I’m old enough to be her father, not to mention she’s got too much other stuff going on right now to have time for it.”
Quatre seemed to relax a little. His tone was not as sharp as he questioned hopefully, “She is really busy with finals and graduation coming up, isn’t she?”
“Yes. And you know the Megan is nothing if not focused on getting her degree and collaborating on her project with Trowa. She’s not a foolish child anymore, she’s a determined young woman and I don’t believe she’d do anything to distract herself from her goals.” Wufei concluded logically. “Now will you please just relax and enjoy your daughter’s celebration. It’s not everyday your child turns 18.”
The blond man nodded minutely. “I do need to ask you one last thing.”
“What?” Wufei slipped his hands in his pockets and waited patiently for Quatre to continue.
“Why didn’t you ever marry Sally?”
“You’re joking right?” He laughed, amused by Quatre’s obvious unease. The other man appeared perturbed by this. Wufei coughed carefully. “For being such a smart person, Winner, sometime you amaze me with your ability to miss the obvious. Sally and Dorothy have been seeing each other on and off for the last 4 years. I haven’t gotten married because my first experience was a disaster and personally it’s one I don’t care to repeat. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to rejoin the party and our friends. I do hope you’ll join us.” He nodded curtly and left the room, leaving Quatre to stare after him in open shock.
“You know it would be a lot easier if you would just relax. Stop trying to make it so perfect.” Alex winced as Megan dropped the clay unceremoniously in an unrecognizable lump onto the table.
Megan shook her head and vigorously began working at the clay once more. “If I don’t get an D on this project my fathers will flip out. It means I’ll only get a C in the class. They just don’t understand how they could have raised a child who could possibly fail pottery not once, but twice. I tried to explain that the teacher doesn’t grade on creativity or effort… but noooo.” She eyed her friend wearily. “How’s your mom?”
“Much better, thanks for asking.” Alex adjusted his seat on the stool, jade eyes focused on the clay-covered plastic spoon he was using to imprint swirls into his pot with. “She just finished her last round of chemo and her hair is starting to come back in already.”
“That’s good.” Megan paused, regarding her clay. “Maybe I’ll just make it a sculpture. I can call it ‘Ball of Clay’.”
Alex snorted. “Good try. I’m sure Professor Sonier will be as impressed as she was with last week’s ‘square of clay’.”
Megan reached for the saran wrap and ripped off a long section. “I’m done for today. I have to go home and get changed. You’re coming to the party, right?”
“Wouldn’t miss it. I’ll be there along with all the other social rejects.” Alex chuckled dryly.
Megan released a laugh as she placed the abused clay on the storage shelf and moved to the sink to wash up. “Good. We’ll be miserable and unpopular together.”
It didn’t hurt her feelings to know that Alex was dead on. She’d bonded with the odd young man her first day of classes 4 years ago. It had taken 6 months of begging and pleading to talk her parents into letting her accept NYU’s offer of early admission into their liberal arts program. They’d been adamant that she deserved to experience a regular high school atmosphere instead of skipping straight from the Montessori program she’d been in her entire life. She’d argued right back that the entire purpose of the self-paced program was to let her go at her own rate, even if it meant leaving the other children in the proverbial dust. Her crowning argument had been that she’d never have regular high school experience given who her parents and extended family were. They’d crumbled soon after that statement. After all, having the ESUN President for your aunt and the CEO of the largest corporation in existence for a father didn’t exactly lend itself to a normal childhood.
Alex had been one of the other students also in the accelerated program at the University. They’d both been wide-eyed and slightly out of place amongst the “prodigies” as they’d come to call their classmates. They were the oldest of the bunch, at the ripe age of 14, being only 3 months apart. In Alex she’d found her first real friend that wasn’t a cousin or other relative. They’d experienced all the things other kids did together. Their first driving lessons, their first fender bender (Megan’s fault) their first marijuana induced high (Alex’s idea) and their first date. It had been after that fateful date that Megan had sadly shook her head and Alex nodded in agreement. He’d announced a few weeks later that he’d figured out why there was no chemistry there.
Megan still chuckled at the memory of her very preppy, very nerdy best friend nervously declaring that he was gay. He’d been so scared, so afraid of rejection from the rest of their oddball friends that Megan had laughed out loud, inadvertently hurting his feelings. When she’d explained the ridiculousness of it all, he’d been suitably pissed. That had been their first disagreement, but not their last. Now it was the week before graduation. She and Alex both, were slated to graduate with their BAs, that was if she passed pottery.
Her cell phone vibrated in her overall’s pocket, sharply bringing her back to reality. She quickly dried her hands on a clean towel and shut off the alarm mode. “I have to go. My uncle’s picking me up. He’s taking me shopping for a dress.”
“You’re not very good at being a girl, you know that right?” Alex snickered. “Any other proper young woman would have had her dress weeks ago.”
“Yeah, but any other girl doesn’t have 5 gay men who think their God’s gift to fashion trying to dress them either.” She retorted dryly as she grabbed the beat up leather satchel and slung it over her shoulder. She waved cheerfully and sprint to the staircase, hoping Duo wasn’t later than the usual 10 minute lag she’d made accommodations for. The rest of the world ran on Greenwich standard time… Duo ran on a different clock, one the family had aptly named “Duo-time”. Duo-time was consistently 10 minutes later than regular time, on a good day.
As she flew out the front door of the arts building, her uncle peeled into the parking lot. She flinched as he narrowly missed hitting a pedestrian crossing the parking lot. “Flair and abandon.” She muttered beneath her breath as the vintage mustang screeched to a halt in front of her. She approached the car and steeled herself for what would obviously be a ride to remember. But then, riding with Duo always had it’s risks. A small part of her wished she’d insisted on driving her own car and meeting him at Hilde’s shop.
“Hey, Meggie.” Duo greeted happily, reaching over to turn the stereo down to an acceptable level. He adjusted the hearing aid in his right ear to a higher volume. “How was school?”
“You know, I’m absolutely astonished you’re not completely deaf after 35 years of listening to music as that volume, Duo.” She ignored his question and tugged at his braid pointedly.
He shrugged good-naturedly. “I’m 33.” He retorted promptly. “Hardly an old man. And I wish you wouldn’t nag, you’re worse than Heero.”
“Well he has a point. Both of us do actually.” She pointed out.
He snickered. “You are relentless aren’t you? Fasten your seatbelt, we’re gonna be late as it is.”
Megan bit back a comment on his sense of timing and obediently buckled herself in. He punched the clutch and set the car into gear. “Heero got called out of town on a mission, so he’s not going to be able to make it to the party. He said to tell you he’s very sorry. He also sent you that.” Duo pointed to an envelope taped the dashboard.
She fought back the rising disappointment at the idea that her uncle would miss the party. It wasn’t everyday a girl turned 18, but still, she’d learned not to complain about it. Saving the world was a job that had to be done, even if it did involve lousy scheduling conflicts. Tucked inside the card, simply signed with the initial H M-Y, was a check. She smiled a little at the silly message on the card. “You helped pick out the card, didn’t you?”
Duo glanced over to her, his expression guilty. “Cupcake, it’s not your fault that Heero doesn’t remember dates very well.” His voice was soft. “He doesn’t even remember our anniversary and we’ve been married for 10 years. He did good to remember your age. He’s just not as detail oriented as he used to be.”
Megan returned the smile. “It’s okay. I’m glad you helped him remember. It’s a sweet gesture.”
Duo cleared his throat. “Did I tell you what Ben did yesterday?”
He was referring to his and Heero’s youngest son, 5 year old Benjamin. Megan could tell he was uncomfortable with the subject of his spouse’s unintentional slight and wanted to change the subject. She decided to have pity on him, just this once. “No… tell me.”
He launched into a recitation of the latest in “The Maxwell-Yuy Adventures in Parenting.” Megan simply sat and listened with half an ear, allowing her mind to wander as she stared at her uncle profile. It was easy to get lost in his story-telling, but something completely unrelated to the tale was niggling at the back of her mind. Something that had been bothering her in increasing degrees through out the day. The nervousness in the pit of her stomach had a name. It always had. Wufei.
***************************************************
Quatre cleared his throat as he watched the staircase. Beside him, Trowa was involved in deep conversation with Sally and Dorothy. He surreptitiously glanced at his watch. Megan should be appearing any minute. As if on cue, his oldest daughter appeared at the top of the staircase. His heart leapt into his throat at the sight of her, as it always did these days. It was so hard to imagine that so many years had passed since the first time he’d laid eyes on her. She’d been so small, so heartbreakingly lost and so very sad. Now, she radiated with calm self-assurance. He elbowed Trowa sharply in the ribs.
His husband grunted in protest to the rough move and turned to see what the fuss was about. Quatre’s heart fluttered in response to the surge of pride that Trowa instantly felt. The blond man’s hand automatically went to his heart, rubbing it reflexively when that pride was replaced with a flush of surprise when he realized what their child was wearing. Beside him, Trowa stiffened. Quatre’s eyes drifted to his husband’s form. His expression had darkened visibly. Quatre bit back a chuckle. Trowa pasted on a tight smile and muttered for Quatre’s ears only. “What the hell is that?”
Quatre rested a restraining hand on Trowa’s arm. “That, my love, is a young woman.”
Trowa cast a glare at him and snorted, mimicking his tone perfectly. “No, that, dearest, is what will cause Duo Maxwell great bodily harm. Every male in the room is staring.”
“Yes, Trowa. They are. Because she’s beautiful, not because of her dress.” Quatre’s thumb stroked the spot just inside Trowa’s elbow. His lover’s weak spot. Trowa sighed heavily, relaxing instantly. Quatre turned his gaze back to Megan, who’d reached the bottom of the steps. The dress, he reflected, really wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. It was a bright red, as befitted their daughter’s vibrant personality, and cut modestly, revealing nothing to the naked eyes, but clinging in all the right places. All in all, she looked lovely. Hilde had done as good a job as usual. Quatre silently thanked Allah that the woman had found a passion in the unexpected of fashion design, and that she would accept a bribe every now and then to alter a neckline or hemline here and there.
Quatre’s heart quickened. His breath caught in his throat and he immediately realized that the calm Megan had felt was now shattered. It was replaced by a familiar ache and nervousness. His sought her out across the room, his eyes confirming what his heart already knew. Wufei was near his daughter. He swallowed hard and slipped his free hand into his pocket fisting it tightly within the confines of his slacks. Trowa, luckily didn’t notice. If he had, he’d have known immediately the unease in Quatre’s expression.
The taller man didn’t turn from his conversation, instead speaking earnestly about some subject or other. Quatre fought back a wave of worry and disappointment. Megan caught his eyes and smiled brilliantly, obviously not noticing his frown either. He mustered a weak smile in return and winked at her. His gaze traveled from Megan, who’d turned back to her group of friends, to Wufei who was nursing a glass of champagne and speaking to Milliardo and Relena. The hand that held the champagne was unadorned, but his right hand, the one that was relaxed at his side… there as usual on his ring finger was the thin braided band he’d been wearing for 13 years.
Quatre distinctly remember the day they’d decided to keep Megan, it had been the same day Wufei had returned their daughter to them bearing more packages than any child had a use for, and on a chain around her neck, she’d had a matching band. He’d been just short of livid. Trowa had managed to calm him with the rationale that the future was a long way off and Megan wouldn’t remember something so silly when she was older. It would fade into the promise made by an indulgent uncle to a favored niece.
But she hadn’t forgotten. Neither had Wufei forgotten his promise to wear the ring either. Whenever Quatre had seen the Chinese man from that day onward, he’d always worn the ring, unobtrusively on the same finger, never removing it. When Quatre had questioned him about it a few years after the fact, Wufei had steadfastly refused to remove it, flatly telling Quatre that he always honored his promises.
Now, 13 years later, Quatre was once again reminded of the foolish promise his friend had made on an indulgent whim. Surely Megan had forgotten by now, hadn’t she? He relaxed a little, chuckling to himself as he remembered the relief he’d felt when she’d asked permission to go on her first date. He’d been so relieved that she’d stopped fixating on Wufei and he’d prayed earnestly that she’d fall in love, really fall in love, with Alex. Then when she’d gone through her experimental phase and dated a girl, he’d prayed she’d be a lesbian, all the while feeling guilty for wanting to impose his own wishes on the daughter he loved more than life itself. After all, sexuality wasn’t a choice, it was instinctive. But Allah how relieved he’d been when she’d announced her date for the spring dance at NYU was a girl from her class named Cynthia.
That hadn’t lasted more than a month either. As Quatre recalled, Megan was at 16, as much a bundle of hormones as he himself had been. After a while, he’d contented himself with being grateful she hadn’t turned up drunk or Allah-forbid, pregnant. As far as he knew she’d confined her sexual experimentation to a few stolen kisses, interrupted when he and Trowa flashed the porch light at inopportune times.
He supposed though, that overall they’d done a good job with her. There had been a few scary moments as there were with any child, but nothing really horrible. She was happy healthy… and as of tonight, an adult. He’d resigned himself to letting go eventually. But now faced with the reality of it, why was it breaking his heart?
**************************************
Wufei caught Quatre’s eye and smiled, giving a relaxed wave. The other man made his way over touching his arm lightly. “Wufei, may I have a word alone with you? It will only take a moment.”
The Chinese man nodded. “Of course.” He excused himself from his conversation with the Peacecraft siblings and followed Quatre to one of the anterooms off the ballroom. His curiosity was piqued when Quatre quietly closed the doors to the room, effectively assuring them privacy. His brow wrinkled. “What did you want to speak to me about?”
Quatre regarded him quietly for a moment, then slipped his hands in his pocket and smiled benignly. Wufei’s frown deepened. He knew that expression. It was Quatre entering strategy mode. “Tell me something, Wufei, and please be honest because you know I’ll know if you’re lying.”
“Of course.” Wufei sternly reminded himself not to be offended by the implication that after almost 20 years of friendship, he’d be anything but honest with Quatre.
“Do you remember why you wear that ring?” Quatre’s words were pointed, quiet.
Understanding dawned on Wufei. He chuckled and smiled wryly. “That’s what was so important?”
“Just answer the question, Wufei.” Quatre’s tone brooked no argument.
Wufei sobered instantly. “Yes, of course I remember. I made Megan a promise.”
“Exactly, and I want to know what your intentions are.” His friend did not hesitate.
Wufei drew in a deep breath. “My intentions, Quatre, are to keep my promise. I will ask Megan out for dinner, she’ll refuse and I’ll be absolved from any further responsibility. My promise will have been honored and I’ll be free to remove the ring.”
Again, the blond did not give a moment’s pause before hissing in apparent annoyance. “You really think she’ll refuse you?”
It was official, Wufei was confused. He frowned again. “Of course she will. I’m old enough to be her father, not to mention she’s got too much other stuff going on right now to have time for it.”
Quatre seemed to relax a little. His tone was not as sharp as he questioned hopefully, “She is really busy with finals and graduation coming up, isn’t she?”
“Yes. And you know the Megan is nothing if not focused on getting her degree and collaborating on her project with Trowa. She’s not a foolish child anymore, she’s a determined young woman and I don’t believe she’d do anything to distract herself from her goals.” Wufei concluded logically. “Now will you please just relax and enjoy your daughter’s celebration. It’s not everyday your child turns 18.”
The blond man nodded minutely. “I do need to ask you one last thing.”
“What?” Wufei slipped his hands in his pockets and waited patiently for Quatre to continue.
“Why didn’t you ever marry Sally?”
“You’re joking right?” He laughed, amused by Quatre’s obvious unease. The other man appeared perturbed by this. Wufei coughed carefully. “For being such a smart person, Winner, sometime you amaze me with your ability to miss the obvious. Sally and Dorothy have been seeing each other on and off for the last 4 years. I haven’t gotten married because my first experience was a disaster and personally it’s one I don’t care to repeat. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to rejoin the party and our friends. I do hope you’ll join us.” He nodded curtly and left the room, leaving Quatre to stare after him in open shock.