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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 " Chapter 4 It seems to me that trying to live without friends
is like milking a bear to get cream for your morning coffee. It is
a whole lot of trouble, and then not worth much after you get it.
Trowa rolled his eyes, but returned the hug. Even to himself he had a hard time admitting that hugs from Quatre were…nice. “Hi.” “I grabbed some take out in town, if you’re hungry.” He was starving, actually. It had been a real trial to escape Cathy this time and he had missed any chance of eating because of it. “Yes.” Quatre reluctantly pulled away. “Just toss your stuff in the bedroom, then. I’ll heat it up for you.” There was barely anything in the small cabin. It had been chosen for its location more than its amenities. There was a single range stove, a microwave, running water in the sink and bathroom and a bedroom. That’s it. However, it sat on the edge of a mountain and overlooked a nearby base that was more of a lab than the usual base. The question was, was it a major contribution to the war effort or was it just there? Trowa came back out, a pullover sweater on this time. It was of a deep forest green that did magnificent things with his eyes. Quatre was beginning to be thankful that it was rather chilly in the house. Trowa sat and started consuming food. Quatre blinked at him, amazed that someone could *eat* that fast. “Ah…when was the last time you ate?” Trowa held up both hands, then two fingers. “Twelve hours?” Quatre shook his head. “Ouch. That’s rough. Tell you what, I’ll brief you while you’re eating that way you don’t have to ask questions. There’s been practically no activity at that base since I got here, and I arrived very early this morning. From what I can see through the binoculars, there’s nothing particularly interesting at the base. If there is something going on, it’s probably happening under ground. The best viewing spot is, believe it or not, from the bedroom window. I made the bed the base of operations and turned it to face the window. I have to admit, it’s warmer that way. I’ve been wrapped in blankets since I got here.” Trowa paused with the fork halfway to his mouth. For a paralyzing moment, he had the suspicion that Quatre was pulling his leg. One look up at that deceivingly angelic face dashed that hope to smithereens. “Are you telling me that for the rest of the week we’re going to be in bed most of the time?” “Uh…is that a problem?” Yes, that was a problem! Trowa’s hormones couldn’t behave themselves when he was away from Quatre, and now the blond expected him to stay in a bed with him (because when one of them was awake and watching, the other one would be sleeping) for a week and not give into the need for some physical intimacy?! Quatre absently rubbed over his heart. “Trowa? You look like a deer caught in the headlights. What’s the problem?” Very deliberately Trowa put his fork down. “Quatre. Since we’ve met, we have never managed to spend more than twelve hours in each other’s company without falling into bed. How do you expect both of us to behave for a week, especially since we’ll be in a bed the entire time?” Quatre hitched a shoulder, looking away. “I didn’t think it was a problem. I’m only a convenient bed partner for you.” “Don’t be stupid,” Trowa snapped back harshly. “I’d have to be dead and in the ground before I’d stop wanting you!” Quatre’s head jerked back up. He was surprised to hear that tone from Trowa. Then it really registered what had been said and his eyes went wide. “…oh.” Trowa rolled his eyes heavenward in despair. “God save me from blonds! You really didn’t think I…shit.” He’d accepted Quatre as an ally (and a damn good one, too!) and tentatively as a friend. He’d never thought that their attraction to each other would come into question. They’d barely known each other ten hours before they were in bed screwing like bunnies, for heavens sakes. He rose up, jerked Quatre out of his chair, and roughly pulled him into his lap. Quatre squawked at the manhandling, arms flailing a little until he was abruptly settled onto rock-hard thighs. His eyes were wide with surprise and uncertainty as they looked back into unhappy green ones. “I’m only going to say this once,” Trowa growled. “You are the *only* person I have ever wanted on a continual basis. In bed and out of it! You…you are…” Trowa’s mouth shut in frustration. There wasn’t even a word to describe just what he was feeling at that moment! “There is no way that I can be with you for an entire week, mission or no mission, and keep my hands off of you, okay?!” The Arabian was glowing, the softest smile on his face. Trowa’s chest constricted just at the sight of that happy _expression. “Okay.” “I don’t understand how you got such a stupid idea in your head in the first place,” he muttered darkly, a trifle embarrassed at his own outburst. It infuriated him for some reason to see Quatre think so little of himself. If there was anyone in space that should be overly confident, then it should be Quatre. “Well…every time we’ve made love it was because I pushed things.” Made…love… Trowa looked up at him thoughtfully. Is that how he viewed it? More than fucking, more than sex? Maybe that was why whenever they were in bed, Trowa was so content to stay there. He’d never been touched by someone who cared about him before. Roughly he jerked his attention back to the present. “The only reason why I let you start things was because I wasn’t sure if you grew tired of *me*.” “Trowa, I’ll be dead and on ice before that happens,” Quatre assured him dryly. “Hn.” Hesitantly he slid his arms up around the other’s back. “So where does that leave us?” “Um…” *beep-BEEP* “Shit!” Quatre exploded from Trowa’s arms, racing for the bedroom. Trowa sat there, stunned for a moment (Quatre actually knew a dirty word? And used it?! He didn’t even swear when he climaxed!) before he snapped back into reality and raced after him. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” “Quatre?” Trowa leaned over his shoulder to see what was happening. The blond was staring at his laptop in complete disbelief. “I rigged Sandrock’s sensors to alert me if
something on the base moved.” He cast the other teen a sheepish
grin over his shoulder. “Honestly, there’s so little movement
here that I fall asleep sometimes watching. It was a back-up contingency.
Anyway, the alert was…” Quatre’s eyes fell back to
the screen. “Oh boy. The alert was because a mouse just darted
over the Trowa waited for the punch line. “A mouse.” “Yup.” “Are we sure that anything is happening on that base?” “I give the possibility of activity on that base the same chance that I do to the moon being made out of green cheese,” was the honest answer. Trowa was about to suggest that they call their respective scientists (who were going to hear about this at great length) and call off the rest of the mission. However, there was a small part of his mind that observed that he had a very willing Quatre, a tube of lube (bought *just* in case) and no company for at least twelve miles. Very carefully he moved the laptop to the floor and out of the way. Then he pounced on Quatre. When his back hit the mattress, he looked up wildly. “T-Trowa?!” “You said it yourself,” the Latin purred, eyes sparkling dangerously. “There’s nothing going on, and the only warm place here is the bed. We might as well put the time to use.” Oh…my. It was just beginning to dawn what Quatre had unwittingly done. He had given tacit permission for Trowa to pounce on him whenever he got the urge. He tried to rustle up some concern about that, somewhere, but the only thing his rooting around did was unearth pure delight and anticipation. “I don’t have anything—” “I have lube,” Trowa interrupted. Quatre was getting hard just looking at him and thinking about a week in bed with no distractions. “On you?” he croaked. “Duffle bag.” “Get it!” Trowa scrambled off the bed to the far corner of the room, ripped into the bag and started tearing things out when he couldn’t immediately lay hands on the tube. Quatre took that moment to toe off shoes, rip off shirts and generally try to get naked as quickly as possible. When Trowa turned around, he was greeted by the sight of Quatre halfway naked and struggling out of jeans. He lunged for him, helping to get the jeans off with one hand and struggling with his own clothing with another. When the jeans finally lost and fell to the floor, Quatre ignored his boxers and focused on getting Trowa out of all those stupid clothes. When nothing separated them, they lunged for each other and kissed desperately, hands roving for as much contact as possible, hips grinding into hips. If the laptop beeped, neither noticed. + Even the teenage libido (which was on par with a minor god) could only make love so many times before the body simply needed rest and fuel. Trowa quickly discovered that Quatre could heat things up and not much else, so he took over kitchen duties. It was chilly in the cabin so he was usually in the green pullover and jeans if he needed to get up. Quatre spent the times between bouts of heavy sex trying to figure out *why* they were watching the base at all. He did tons of research, but couldn’t come up with a reason except incompetence on somebody’s part. When they were in bed, just resting against each other, Quatre did his best to gain more information about Trowa. It was hard (actually, it was like pulling alligator teeth) but slowly he got his lover to open up a little and share something of his past. He learned that Trowa was an orphan, raised by mercenaries for a while and then a little of how he had gained Heavyarms. Trowa was much more interested in learning about Quatre. The blond simply didn’t fit his concept of the rich and famous, and he was trying to understand why. It took some reading between the lines, but he eventually pieced together what Quatre’s life must have been like. Ignored if he wasn’t being showcased, raised by nannies and tutors with no real family around him on a regular basis. No wonder it was so hard for him to gain new friends. He had no practical experience in doing so. Late one night, three days into their original mission
plan, they were tangled up with each other on the bed, just recuperating
from making love. Quatre hadn’t thought it possible to make love
so often. A slow grin tugged his mouth upwards. /Mm. Not that I’m “Hn.” “You’re so sexy.” Trowa snorted. The blond raised up and gave him an evil glare. “That had better not be disagreement.” “Quatre, I know for a fact that I’m your first partner. How many naked men have you seen?” “Er…about forty.” Trowa jerked up in shock. “What?” “Uh…that didn’t sound right, did it?” Quatre grinned slightly at the shocked _expression on his lover’s face. He was rather proud of himself for outdoing Trowa for once. “You see, once I was out in the desert with the Maguanacs and we stumbled across this clear pool of water in an oasis. It was *so* hot that day and we were really tired of it so we all just stripped and jumped in. I think there was about forty of us altogether.” Trowa relaxed slightly. “Ah.” Okay, that made sense. “And you’re way sexier than all of them combined,” Quatre purred, nuzzling against a firm chest. “Considering that you’ve seen forty men, I guess you have enough experience to have an opinion.” Trowa let his eyes fall closed. Geez, how did he get into these kinds of conversations, anyway? “I should hope so.” He fell silent for a moment, thinking. “Trowa?” “Hn.” “When this mission is done, will you come with me?” Trowa’s eyes opened part way, face unreadable. “Why?” “Well…it’s just, I worry when you leave. I know you can handle yourself, but you don’t have anyone that can watch your back. What if you get cornered and I have no idea you need help?” Go back with him. God, that was so tempting. He was
beginning to dread separating from Quatre, and it wasn’t just
because he missed the sex. Quatre…Quatre was his friend. And
he didn’t like it when they were apart because he worried about
him too, despite the fact he had forty hulking nursemaids. But…
Rolling, he pinned Quatre underneath him and deliberately made his Quatre watched him with a slight frown. “That doesn’t matter, Trowa.” “Of course it does!” Trowa felt like shaking him. “Don’t be naïve, Quatre. Gundam pilot or not, you’re a multi-billionaire with an extensive family. A family that won’t be happy with you when they discover you’re gay.” “It doesn’t matter what they think,” Quatre shot back. “And I’m not gay!” “…” Trowa gave their position an elaborate
look before raising his eyes back to Quatre’s. “We’re
laying here “Well…I don’t *think* I am…” Quatre shrugged against the mattress. “You’re the only guy I’ve ever been attracted to. Usually I like girls. Maybe—hm. Maybe I’m Trowa-centric?” Despite himself, Trowa started chuckling. “God, Quatre. Only you would come up with a term for it.” “Well, what else would you call it?” Quatre shot back, slightly indignant about being laughed at. That _expression made Trowa laugh harder. He was too damn cute when he pouted. It made him look five years younger. Quatre, naturally, wasn’t going to let his lover just laugh at him without getting some justified revenge. He reached up and started tickling viciously. Trowa truly laughed then, squirming and trying to pin Quatre’s hands to the mattress. “Uncle!” he cried, as a hand caught him at a very sensitive spot on the back of his knee. “Uncle!!” Quatre halted his attack, peering at him suspiciously. Was he really sorry or was more retribution required? Trowa settled back, just focusing on breathing for a minute. The little brat was fast when it came to taking advantage of his weaknesses. Surely someone had devised a defense against tickling. If he did some research on the internet, maybe he could find it. He looked over to see if another attack was forthcoming (the little blond could, on occasion, hold a grudge). Yup, that was a very dark look. He should probably be more careful about teasing Quatre. Apparently doing it in bed while they were naked was a bad strategic choice. You’d think experience would have… The Arabian’s head cocked as he registered the change that came over his lover’s face. “What is it?” “I…I’ve never laughed in bed before.” Trowa was oddly unbalanced by that realization. Just how much had he changed because of Quatre’s influence? Quatre smiled slightly. Slowly but surely, he was drawing out Trowa’s true personality. Laughing was only a part of it. He had a suspicion that Trowa was naturally a very happy person, as well as a compassionate one. He smoothed back thick hair and ducked down to nuzzle against his nose. “I like it when you laugh.” Trowa swallowed hard. /What am I doing? I swore to myself that I wouldn’t become anymore involved with him. There’s only one way for this to end and it isn’t a happy one. I can never stay with someone like him, even if by a miracle we both survive this war. He’ll go back to being a billionaire…and I’ll go back to being a drifting mercenary./ “Trowa?” Whatever it was that passed through those green eyes, Quatre didn’t like it. He rubbed at his heart irritably. No, he didn’t like that dark feeling at all. It felt like…despair. Still…he couldn’t go back. Leaving Quatre now would hurt just as much as later. That he could deal with when the time came. The only thing he couldn’t handle right now was hurting Quatre by causing a rift between him and his family. More than anything else, Trowa understood the importance of family. “Are you sure?” Trowa whispered. He put a hand over Quatre’s mouth to stop him from responding immediately. “*Think* about this, Quatre. Are you sure?” “Why are you so certain that I’m going to leave you behind?!” Quatre finally snapped. “I don’t want to leave you behind!” “And if it comes down to a choice between me and them?” Trowa growled back. “Because they *will* make you choose, Quatre.” “No, they won’t! Trowa, you don’t understand. They’ve never paid a lot of attention to me. As long as I was healthy, and ready in time for some social function, they weren’t ever really concerned with me. *You’re* the only one who thinks about me!” Quatre hesitated briefly. “Well, and the Maguanacs. But they’re only really concerned when I go into battle.” “They’re still your family.” “And you’re still my lover!” Trowa stopped breathing. Lover? /Oh shit./ Quatre watched him nervously. He had not meant to say that. It had just slipped out. Trowa had balked at the idea of *friends*…what would he do at being a lover? He sat up, wrapping both arms around his torso and holding on tightly. He felt like he might fly apart otherwise. “I…I know you barely think of me as a friend. It’s okay if you can’t think of me as more…I just want you with me.” Trowa climbed out of bed without a word, pulling on a pair of jeans so he could pace without completely freezing. He knew that Quatre needed an answer, but his head was so jumbled he couldn’t say anything intelligent. In agitation he ran a hand through his hair and paced right next to the bed, like a caged lion waiting for the door to spring open. Lover. He’d never been anyone’s lover. He’d never been anyone’s friend, either. He and Quatre were alike in that regard. He was painfully aware of the responsibility that came along with those words. Being a lover meant caring, and protecting and sometimes arguing when their partner did something stupid (with, hopefully, make up sessions afterwards). That wasn’t something he was equipped to handle. “In all of earth and space, you had to choose me.” Trowa glared at the floor, irrationally angry and scared. “I’m so emotionally handicapped that a four year old child can understand more than I do, and yet you want me as your lover. Quatre, for god’s sake, if you have any sense left at all you’ll ditch me and find someone who can at least return your feelings!” Quatre flinched as if he’d been slapped. Oh god…he hadn’t meant it like that! “I-I told you,” the blond whispered brokenly. “I know you can’t…can’t think of me as more than a friend.” “You idiot,” Trowa rasped. “You should…I’m not what you need. You are so much *more* than me.” “Don’t ever say that!” Quatre exploded from the blankets, grabbing his shoulders and shaking them hard. “Don’t you even *think* that!” “It’s true.” “It’s not! I’m just as emotionally screwed up, you should know that after the time we’ve spent together! Trowa, I’m not asking for vows of eternal love. I just want you with me.” “You should be!” Trowa grabbed his head with both hands, almost glaring at him. “You shouldn’t be settling for me. You should have someone that… You should have *everything* dammit!” Quatre started to panic. Would this conviction of Trowa’s
drive them apart? He was so sure that he couldn’t be what Quatre
needed. His hands tightened until the skin under them turned white.
Trowa didn’t even flinch at the tight grip. “Trowa. I just
want It tore Trowa’s heart to see Quatre beg. He never
heard him do anything like it before and he never wanted to see it
again. He grabbed him, holding him tightly, the grip strong enough
to leave bruises. “I’ll stay.” /For as long as I can.
For as long as you Quatre relaxed against him, shivering at the abrupt release of adrenaline and fear in his system. “You shouldn’t be out of bed naked,” Trowa muttered. He coaxed the blond back into bed, shucking his pants before he climbed in next to him. Quatre burrowed into him as soon as he was semi-settled on the bed. Trowa held him close, feeling absolutely rotten that he had made the normally confident Quatre Winner insecure. Quatre was his friend (his mind still shied away from the idea of ‘lover’) and he had no desire to hurt his friend. Quatre was the best thing that had ever impacted with his crazy life and he hated to return hurt for happiness. “Stop worrying,” Quatre muttered against his chest. “I wasn’t,” Trowa denied softly. “Liar. I can practically see smoke coming out of your ears.” Quatre wriggled until he could press a kiss against Trowa’s lips. “I told you, its okay.” “And I told you it wasn’t.” Quatre sighed. “You’re stubborn.” “Pot calling kettle,” Trowa parried dryly. There was an answering smile at that. “Can…can you think of us as partners? For missions and in bed? Would that make it easier?” Partners. Trowa tasted that idea in his head. Equals. Friends. Allies. Yes, that was a concept he was comfortable with. “I can be your partner,” he confirmed softly. “And I’m not going to get any more arguments about my family?” “I don’t see the point,” Trowa surrendered wearily. “Good.” Quatre shifted until he was completely comfortable. Lord, was he tired. “’Night.” “Good night.” Trowa held him close and for the first time in memory, he prayed to any god that could hear him that he could stay with Quatre…for at least a little while. ~*~*~*~
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