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"Persistence"Written By: Honor Disclaimers: I own Gundam Wing, a dragon (which
resides in my back yard) and possess the ability to fly at will. Pairings: 3x4 Spoilers: For episodes 3-10 Warnings: Romance, heavy lime, angst, sappy moments,
language, violence. I start out very much following the series, but
it doesn’t last long and will slide into a TWT. Some OOC (I gave
Trowa an actual personality, based on my interpretation of his character
in the series. It conflicts with the fanon view, which is why I’m
putting up the warning.) Rating: R Archived: Gundam Wing Diaries Betas: Velvet and Caitilin /thought/ *emphasized* <<vid or comm>>
"Persistence " "The difference between perseverance and obstinacy
is that one often comes from a strong will, and the other from a strong
won't."
He drove for hours until he reached the ship yard. It was dark when he arrived, and he watched the truck with Sandrock strapped to the back load. As it went on the ship he went to a local phone booth and set up a safe house. “Is this the San Francisco Starley Hotel? I’d like to reserve a room. I’m on my own, is that a problem?” he turned to see what was going on around him as he talked. It was something of a surprise to see another truck with a similar tarp-shaped bundle strapped to the back going in. The question was, who was it? He finished up the call quickly so he could see what was going on. The person behind the wheel looked very familiar. He caught sight of dark auburn hair and a lean face. Trowa?! He hurried forward, unable to keep a delighted smile from his face. Never in a million years had he thought he’d just bumble into the other pilot. The cargo hold was full of vehicles, so it took a bit of snooping around to spot the truck. He finally spotted him, dropping lightly from the truck. “Hi. So we meet again.” The redhead turned slightly to face him, brows needling slightly when he spotted him. “Funny that we meet in this place.” He’d assumed that one or two other pilots would go to New Edwards, but hadn’t imagined he’d meet anyone enroute. Trowa only looked at him. “I can do this alone.” “So can I,” Quatre replied with wry humor. “But it would be easier if we helped each other.” “I wonder.” Trowa turned away and headed for his cabin. “Two is always better than one!” Quatre called to his back. There was no response. Quatre sighed irritably. “I definitely have my work cut out for me.” + Trowa silently cursed his luck as he slammed into his cabin. A very narrow cabin. Dammit, why did the blond have to show up?! It was bad enough he spent most of the week dreaming about him, but now he was here in the flesh and just as personable and charming as always. He wanted to just jump him, rip off those school boy clothes and pound into that tight body until neither of them could remember their own names. It was hardly something that could be labeled as ‘mission preparing’. He knew Quatre enough by now to realize that the three day journey to the base would not be spent in peace. Quatre wanted to be friends…and friends spent time in each other’s company. It would hardly make his task easier in forgetting the Arabian. “Don’t get close,” Trowa whispered to himself. “It only hurts when you leave.” If he hadn’t known that, and believed it, then he might have been tempted to accept the hand of friendship that Quatre offered. He spent as much time in the cabin as possible, rechecking his plan of attack and generally killing time. It lasted three hours before there was a knock at the door. Trowa looked at it, resigned. Quatre. “Come in, Quatre.” The door opened and the pilot popped his head in, grinning. “I am predictable, aren’t I?” Trowa just glowered at him. “Seriously, Trowa, we need to work together. Otherwise we’re going to be tripping over each other when we land and the mission will be completely screwed up.” …he had a point. Surely just working with him this once wouldn’t hurt anything. Trowa gestured him inside and watched mutely as the blond happily closed the door and plopped next to him on the bed. It was no use fighting. What Quatre wanted, Quatre got if not through charm then through sheer willpower. He tilted his laptop so that the other could see it better and they both studied the plans for the base. “I was planning on approaching here, from the south,” Quatre pointed along the line. “It looks weaker than the rest of the defense, and it’s furthest from the mobile hangars. It should buy us a few minutes to slip inside.” That was what he had been planning exactly. “The conference room, of course, is surrounded by very tough security. It’s not going to be easy to get in…” Trowa paid great attention to every detail as they both worked through their plans. Not everything agreed of course, and compromises were made. Still, Trowa liked it. He liked sitting there, next to an ally, and knowing that he would have back up. It reminded him of the mercenary group he had lived in for so many years, and that was a comforting feeling. Eventually, the plans had been hashed over and there was nothing left on that topic to talk about. His thoughts turned to other things that he was curious about. “Where are your Maguanacs?” Quatre shrugged, a mite sheepishly. “I left them at home.” Trowa’s eyebrow arched slightly. “Why?” They were competent fighters. It would make more sense in his mind to take them along. “Well…I didn’t want them to get hurt. They aren’t in Gundams like we are. They’re more susceptible to harm.” Trowa blew out a short breath of…something. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You don’t agree with that, do you?” Trowa met his eyes calmly. “No. They are soldiers. It is their job to fight.” “Not in a battle with overwhelming odds,” Quatre refuted stubbornly. “Not when they don’t stand a chance of surviving.” “What you mean is, not when they are only there to protect you.” Trowa blinked, a little surprised to hear himself say something like that. Why was he even talking about this anyway? “…well, that too.” There was that sheepish smile again. Trowa shook his head, dropping the subject. It wasn’t worth pursuing. “So! We’re all planned out and ready to go, with two days left of travel. What shall we do to occupy ourselves?” Trowa’s eyes cut to his face. He didn’t expect them t spend *all* that time together, did he? Quatre’s eyes were twinkling madly with laughter, but there was something else there…something he’d seen that night they’d spent together when he’d had a firm and lithe body under him, aching for him. Trowa was a little startled to see it, frankly. He’d never had sex with the same person twice. “You want me again,” he murmured with something like perplexity. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Trowa Barton,” Quatre murmured back. The twinkle in his eyes softened into a slow smolder. “Can you blame me?” No. Trowa’s body was responding to the open invitation in that beautiful face. Really, it didn’t bother him. He’d wanted Quatre again, he just hadn’t expected to be granted that wish. “No lube,” his mouth growled (a tad plaintively). “I have a small bottle of hand lotion,” Quatre returned as he leaned in, snaking an arm around Trowa’s shoulders to bring him in close. “That’ll work.” Trowa had the suspicion that he’d been manipulated somehow, but the feeling faded as a hot and demanding tongue slid into his mouth. He tangled a hand in fine blond hair, kissing him back in matching hunger. They fell back to the hard mattress, mouths locked and hands ripping away clothing to get to heated skin. + Okay, how did this happen? It was nearly two in the morning. Trowa was lying on his back, Quatre curled up at his side and using him as a pillow. Never in his life had he spent the night with someone. Usually, he and whoever it was had sex and then one of them would leave. If they bothered to actually go all the way and have sex, that is. Most of the time it was just hand jobs or an occasional blow job. The only person he had ever slept with was Quatre, which was kind of understandable. He could tell the first time they’d had sex that Quatre was a virgin. He remembered quite vividly how it felt to be abandoned that first time he’d had sex, and he in no way wanted to subject Quatre to that feeling of inadequacy and loneliness. Quatre was…different. He required something more than the usual treatment Trowa subjected people to. Staying hadn’t been a trial to him anyway. But *this* time! Why hadn’t he given the cues to Quatre that he wanted to spend the night alone? There wasn’t any reason for them both to sleep on a narrow bed, sex or no sex. Quatre shifted slightly, as if sensing his bedmate’s unease then settled again with a sigh. Trowa stared at him with a growing frown. It was becoming more and more difficult planning his future moves, because they envisioned separating from Quatre and that was something Trowa was fast becoming reluctant to do. He *liked* Quatre, dammit! The blond was excellent company, a brilliant tactician, and sexy as hell. Not to mention a fast learner in bed. Trowa’s nerves were still tingling from the attentions of a very talented mouth. /After the mission is over, I have to get away from him. If I don’t, I’ll do something really stupid and fall in love with him./ Stubbornly he closed his eyes and willed his body to sleep. His decision was made, and nothing could alter that. It was past time to stop worrying about this. + Quatre had no idea what had changed the next morning, but he didn’t like it. Trowa was acting…distant. Well, more distant than normal. He had a sinking suspicion that the redhead had been thinking and come to the stupid conclusion that he shouldn’t get any more involved than he was already. Oh great. Now what was he supposed to do? The morning was tense as they showered, ate breakfast, and generally went their separate ways. Quatre hated it. /Everyone keeps telling me that I’m a brilliant tactician, so maneuvering Trowa into accepting me should be a piece of cake, right?/ Right. So why was he in his room, sulking? Absolutely fed up with himself, he stalked out. There must be *something* that he could use an opening line…oh! Yup, that was a pretty good excuse. He cheerfully stopped by Trowa’s door and knocked. “Come in, Quatre.” He did so, brow quirked. “One of these days, you’re going to have to tell me how you do that.” Trowa was sitting on his bed, laptop near him and…no shirt. The redhead had a really nice chest, all smooth and muscular and just asking to be tasted. /Can’t drool, can’t drool, can’t drool…/ Trowa looked a little pained to see him. /Am I testing your resolve, Trowa?/ Quatre flashed him a brilliant smile. “I have two questions.” Trowa sighed softly. “Fine. Shoot.” “Have you met any of the other Gundam pilots?” “…no.” Trowa’s head cocked. “There’s three others, supposedly.” “Hm. I really would like to meet them and form something of a team. I think, right now, that the only people we can really depend on are each other. We’re the only ones of our kind, and the only ones with this kind of mission. It would work better if we were able to rely on each other.” Quatre sank onto the bed next to him, still thinking. “We’ll probably meet them at New Edwards. I can’t imagine any of us letting this kind of an opportunity slip by.” “Hm.” He’d wormed his way inside again. Trowa really wished that he knew how Quatre did that. He was supposedly a decent infiltrator, but he could never hope to emulate what Quatre just did. “You said you had two questions.” “Oh, right. Are you ticklish?” Trowa just stared at him, face blank. How did one subject relate to the other? “Am I what?” “Ticklish.” Quatre beamed at him innocently. “Of course not.” “There isn’t any ‘of course’. Has anyone ever tickled you?” Well, no. “Then you can’t say one way or the other!” he pointed out triumphantly. What, the blond was a telepath now? “Let’s see, shall we?” Quatre was still
cheerful, but there was a devil’s smile on that angel’s
face. Faster than Trowa could blink, he hands shot out and started
gently working over the Latin’s sides. Trowa was able to hold
it in until the blond reached near his Quatre took that sound as encouragement and tried harder, trying under his knees and around his neck. Trowa truly lost it then, and was laughing aloud, a bright sound that echoed around the walls. He started squirming, fighting free of the attacker’s hands. Quatre was more tenacious than Trowa had given him credit for. And much faster than he had thought too. He could swear the blond had six hands and all of them moved faster than lighting. The Tickle Attack only stopped because Quatre had mercy on him. Trowa was flat on his back, Quatre on all fours just above him. He didn’t do anything more than focus on drawing breath into his deprived lungs. “You’re beautiful when you laugh, Trowa.” Quatre’s voice was gentle. He met Trowa’s eyes unwaveringly when the other looked up at him. “If you wanted me in bed again,” Trowa returned just as quietly, “all you have to do is ask. I don’t need your compliments.” “I give them to you without price.” Quatre felt like he was beating his head against a wall. Why couldn’t Trowa understand that he only wanted him? Hi friendship, his respect, his company. “I want you in bed, Trowa. You seem comfortable with that. What you aren’t comfortable with is that I want you out of bed as well.” “We’re soldiers, Quatre.” Trowa could tell the other was frustrated with him. It was better to make his viewpoint understood so that this could be ended before it became something messy and hurtful. “Being a soldier doesn’t mean that we’re machines.” “I don’t want emotional entanglements.” “You can’t tell me that in your entire life you’ve never been friends with someone!” Quatre snapped, irritably. “I haven’t,” Trowa shot back. That stumped the Arabian for a minute. “Honestly?” Trowa just turned his face away. “Allies, then.” Quatre was grasping at straws now. He simply could not believe that this beautiful person had been alone his entire life. “You must have had allies, to get to where you are now.” He had a point there. Trowa slowly relaxed. Why was he getting upset about this, anyway? “…yes.” “Then can’t you see me as an ally?” “I don’t normally agree to go on missions with people I don’t consider an ally,” Trowa pointed out dryly. “Um…okay, good point. It’s just, you seem to accept me in some ways but you can’t seem to accept me completely.” Quatre sat back on his haunches, only vaguely aware that this maneuver put him astride the other’s hips. “What am I doing wrong?” Trowa sat up carefully, not wanting to dislodge the blond on his lap. Quatre was honestly upset and frustrated. Trowa had been reading people for too long to misread those emotions or think them faked. “I’ve never had friends my own age before,” the blond continued miserably. “When I met you, I wanted to be friends because you’re like me. I thought…but I guess I screwed up. Is it because I seduced you?” Trowa damned himself for reacting to the helpless misery on Quatre’s face, but he just couldn’t stop himself. He reached out and hugged him. “No. That’s the only thing you’ve done that’s made sense.” Quatre sank into his arms with a sigh. Trowa must care
*something* about him if he were willing to offer comfort. Maybe the
teen was just as lost when it came to forming friendships as he was.
“I don’t think emotion is a liability,” he whispered
against the Trowa wasn’t sure how to respond. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t just coldly kicked Quatre out already. Nothing made sense to him anymore. He did the only thing he could do, which was put them on a level they were both comfortable with. He tilted Quatre’s face up and started to kiss him, gentle pressure that slowly deepened. Quatre snaked both arms around his neck, responding to the kiss with everything in him. In bed, there was a harmony and rapport between them. He’d just have t work on building a similar rapport out of bed. ~*~*~*~
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