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"Secrets"Written By: Honor Disclaimers: All of those who agree that the boys
should belong to me say “Aye!” Pairings: 3x4 Spoilers: Nope. Warnings: Lemon, yaoiness, bit of language, AU,
I wrote it (duh). Rating: NC-17 Betas: Lucy and Velvet Archived: Gundam Wing Diaries Author’s Notes: Driving an hour to and from work is dangerous. It gives the plot bunnies time to play. For people who love a build-up of a 3x4…here you go! Oh, and just so you know, I’m putting a whole new spin on empathy, telepathy and whatnot. *grin* That’s your only hint. /other people’s thoughts/ //Trowa’s or Quatre’s thoughts// <phone> <<mental conversations>>
"Secrets " Chapter Four: Ramifications
Francis Barton turned from the kitchen sink, surprised by the merry greeting. She brushed a wisp of dark auburn hair off of her face, smiling in return. “Hello Quatre.” Quatre turned to his tag along and shooed him away. “Go do your homework.” “Why? I want to know what you’re saying.” “Because your mother has questions that she won’t ask if you’re in earshot,” Quatre responded impatiently. “So you’re going to talk about me behind my back?” Trowa quirked a sardonic eyebrow at that. “Well, you know we’re going to be talking about you, right?” “Yeah…” “So you really can’t say that we’re doing it behind your back.” Quatre beamed at him innocently. Trowa glared back. “And you refuse to join the Debate Team. Hn. Fine, I’ll be upstairs.” Francis swallowed a smile at this banter. She had seen this boy in all moods—angry, protective, defensive, smiling, charming—and the more she saw, the more she liked him. This was precisely the kind of person that Trowa needed. “Sit down, please. Can I offer you anything?” “I’m fine,” Quatre demurred, settling at the bar. He looked at her expectantly, letting her set the pace and the tone of the conversation. “I hardly know where to begin,” Francis confessed. “And I’m afraid that some of my questions are going to come out the wrong way.” “Ask,” Quatre told her gently. “I can see that you are very worried about him, and that you’re frustrated because he is not giving you the answers you need. I won’t take it the wrong way.” “Why…why did he become friends with you?” “Why now, since he’s pushed people away for years? Is that what you mean?” At her hesitant nod, Quatre shook his head ruefully. “You must understand, Trowa is extraordinarily good at reading people. I’ve never seen anyone better at it than him. He was right last night—he knows when people want something out of him. Unfortunately, he seems to be surrounded by those types of people. It angered and saddened him at the same time. Eventually, he chose to cut himself off completely. But he knew when he met me that I didn’t want something from him. I too have been surrounded by such people, and I know how depressing and lonely it really is. I’d never do that to him.” “Oh.” /How does he know all this?/ “Does he truly talk to you?” “Yes, he does. Sometimes we talk until the wee hours of the morning, without ever running out of anything to say. He didn’t close himself off to people because he wanted to. He did it because he had to, in order to protect himself. He’s been lonely for many years now. He was only too happy to break that self-imposed isolation once he found someone that he could trust, and call a friend.” Quatre’s eyes crinkled a little at the corners. “I can practically see the next question. Yes, we truly are just friends, nothing more.” “I had wondered,” Francis admitted. “I’ve never seen Trowa willingly touch someone before.” “He is as starved for physical affection,” Quatre whispered, “as he is for company. So am I. It’s why we ‘clicked’ as Trowa put it.” She accepted this with a nod and went to the next question. “I’ve noticed, over the past month, that Trowa’s been leaving notes or messages on the answering machine of where he is. Is that your doing?” “Yes. It is common courteousy, if nothing else, to let your parents know where you are. I’ve had that grilled into me.” He shrugged. “He’s starting to get into the habit now—I haven’t had to remind him the last week or so.” “You’re a good influence on him. Thank you for that. Quatre, can you convince him to open up more to people?” “Honestly…I’m not sure if I can. I don’t even trust most of the people around us. He’s starting to trust the people that I trust, but he doesn’t do that quickly or easily. In time, I think he’ll gain a collection of good people around him, but it won’t be soon and it won’t be here.” Reaching out, he squeezed her hand and smiled reassuringly. “Trowa will never make friends lightly or easily. It’s just not in his nature. But when he does make friends, they’ll remain friends for life. And that, to my mind, is a much better way.” “You’re right,” she admitted with a sigh. “I just wish that he would have explained that to us, when we tried to talk to him last night.” “Starting the conversation with ‘There’s something wrong with you, we’re sending you to a psychiatrist three times a week’ is NOT conducive to a heartfelt conversation,” Quatre informed her with a roll of the eyes. “Trowa admitted a way for you to understand him.” Francis cast her mind back to the previous evening. “You mean by asking questions?” “Ask enough, and you’ll get the answers you need. Ask more, and you might get him in the habit of talking to you without being pried at first.” “Are you done yet?” Trowa asked plaintively from the doorway. “Nope.” Quatre smirked at him evilly. “We’re just getting started.” Trowa glared back. “Some friend you are.” “Awww…are you feeling left out?” Quatre’s tone was *not* sympathetic. The brunette’s eyes narrowed. “Keep that up, and I’ll tell Rashid where your chocolate stash is.” Quatre’s panicked look was not *entirely* feigned. “Now, let’s be reasonable about this…” Francis started snickering. “It’s alright. I’m done with him. Are either of you hungry?” “Yes.” “A little.” Francis rolled her eyes. “Boys are continuous bottomless pits. Dinner will be ready in an hour. Be down then, alright?” “Right.” Trowa jerked his head to indicate the stairs, leading Quatre up to his room. Francis watched them go up, mind chewing on what she had learned. /Quatre is right. I didn’t ask enough questions of Trowa. I didn’t show enough interest. I wonder…is it too late to change that now?/ + Some three days after Quatre’s chat with Trowa’s mother, both boys were piled up on Quatre’s bed, finishing up the last bits of homework so they could have the rest of the evening to play. Trowa let his History book fall closed, glancing at Quatre uncertainly. He’d been thinking about this for days, ever since he had discovered that Quatre was an empath. Understanding why he couldn’t hear Quatre was all well and good, but it didn’t alter the fact that he was unhappy with the situation. At first it had been a relief to be around one person that he *couldn’t* hear. Talking to someone and getting everything twice over was frustratingly redundant. But with Quatre, since he knew his secret, they could talk just mentally and cut out any redundancy. If Trowa could get past his shields, that is. Now he was becoming more and more agitated by the situation. He *wanted* to hear Quatre. Quatre, in fact, was the *only* person that he wanted to hear at all. But he couldn’t. And nothing that he could do would change that. //But Quatre…if I told Quatre how I felt, maybe he could change it…// “Okay, that’s it.” Quatre slammed the Health book closed and wriggled around to face him, clearly exasperated. “You’ve been irritated and depressed for three days, and it’s driving me crazy. What’s wrong?” “Sorry,” Trowa muttered meekly. “I don’t want a sorry, I want to know what’s wrong. So?” “I just…can’t hear you.” Quatre’s brow furrowed, head tilting. “Does that bother you?” “Yes.” Trowa focused on the pattern of the quilt under his hands. “I want to hear you.” “Wait, back up. I thought one of the reasons why you could relax around me was because you couldn’t hear me.” “Well, yes.” Trowa peeked up at him through his bangs. “But now…you’re the only person that I can’t hear, but want to hear. It wouldn’t be the same with you as it is with everyone else. I could talk to you just mentally, since you know about my ability…” “…if you could hear me.” Quatre finished with dawning comprehension. “Of course. Trowa, why didn’t you just tell me?” “I wasn’t sure how’d you react. It’s because of your shields that I can’t hear anything. You’d have to lower them in order to let me in, and that might be a bad idea.” “Not necessarily. I could just alter the shields to include you in them.” Quatre flipped onto his back, absently staring at his ceiling as he thought it through. His shields weren’t just a barrier around his mind. Those were much too fragile, and tended to crumble very easily. Instead, he had built up a mental barricade, much like a glass wall, around his entire being. That was much more effective, and helped to safeguard against accidental touching as well. “You can do that?” “Yes. Actually, it might be a great benefit to you if I do that. And to me. We’d be strengthening each other’s defenses.” “My shields aren’t as strong as yours,” Trowa refuted, shaking his head. “But they are still strong,” Quatre argued. “And it would still be another defense, which can’t hurt. Actually, this is a really good idea. If we have both types of shields around us, then even the accidental leaks from other people will be cut out. It would be easier for us to be around people.” “Hn.” Trowa was rather glad of Quatre’s enthusiasm for the idea. The blond was right, this would be a very helpful development. “So…any idea on how to do this?” “Hm. Well, it certainly won’t happen overnight. Our shields have been in place for years, it’s going to take time to get them altered.” Trowa nodded, following this. “But…um, I think it is possible. We’re probably going to have to stay in, ah, very close proximity when we’re doing it though.” Trowa’s eyes cut over to him. Was Quatre blushing? “Close proximity…as in, touching each other?” “Ah…yeah. I mean, we’ve already established that physical touch amplifies our abilities, right? Well, that’s because it lowers our shields as well. So, if we’re touching, then it will be easier to coax our shields out to include each other.” //Did he actually breathe saying that?// Trowa swallowed a smile. Apparently Quatre was nervous about Trowa’s opinion on cuddling up with him for the foreseeable future. //He has no idea.// “Makes sense to me. In that case—” Trowa grabbed Quatre around the waist and dragged him into his lap, grinning into the Arabian’s surprised face “—let’s start now.” Quatre settled more comfortably into Trowa’s loose embrace. Despite his embarrassment, he found himself smiling. “Okay. Let’s.” ~*~*~*~ Duo: *on Honor’s computer, looking at internet
history* You’re not going to believe this.
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