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"Unspoken"Written By: Honor Disclaimers: I’ve contracted some guy named
Doctor Draken to steal the boys. It’s part of his mad scheme
to take over the world. Nifty, huh? Spoilers: Nope Rating: Um…hm…NC-15 to be safe Warnings: Romance, some angst, some shonen-ai,
and language Pairings: 3x4x5x3 Author’s Insane Ramblings: ‘Soundless speech’ <communicator> *emphasized* " Unspoken" Chapter Two
It was just so very disturbing, to see the blond so very quiet. Normally he spoke with all the finesse and exactness of Shakespeare, using the diplomacy and inherent grace of an ambassador. To see him silent, and struggling to express himself—I hated it. It was not for his sake alone that I wanted his voice regained. I’m not sure how long I could take that unnatural silence without cracking. Frustrated with myself, I threw the covers off and rolled over to my side, staring blindly at the window. The three of us had spent most of the afternoon discussing ideas, outlining a rough plan of what to do. Barton wanted to completely redo the training from the beginning, and include a code phrase. I didn’t think it would work—it was too late to try and redo it now. First we had to get Winner talking again, then we could retrain him. But how to regain his voice… Dammit, I’m not getting any sleep tonight. I might as well get up and do something constructive. I was in just boxers and a t-shirt, but the house was at a comfortable temperature so I didn’t bother to put anything else on, just walked out of my bedroom. Maybe a hot cup of tea would help settle me some. I was half-way to the kitchen when I realized that someone was sitting on the couch in the living room. All the lights were out, and it was only by the wan moonlight drifting through the window that I was able to make out who it was—Barton. He turned his head, expression lost in darkness. Softly he asked, “Can’t sleep?” “No,” I admitted just as quietly. The darkness encouraged me to keep my voice low and hushed. “Neither could I.” Call it instinct, but I didn’t leave it there. Instead I went to him, and sat down on the other end of the love seat. “Worried about him?” “Like you are,” he affirmed. I was close enough now to see a wry smile dart over his face. I couldn’t very well argue with that and shrugged, looking away. It was hard to meet his eyes just then. “Tell me something, Wufei. Why have you never made a move?” For a moment his question was ludicrous—it didn’t make any sense whatsoever. But I knew what he meant. Oh, I knew exactly what he meant and I felt my blood freeze. “How did you know?” I managed to choke out past a constricting throat. “A dozen little things,” he murmured, eyes sad and wise. “Your voice always softens when you speak to him; you’re sensitive to all of his moods, and quick to react when he’s upset or sad. The care you show him, your tendency to become a protective, over-bearing ass whenever he’s hurt or threatened…like I said, a dozen little things.” Damn. Just…damn. And here I thought I had given no indication of where my heart lay. By this point I had my voice more under control and pointed out levelly, “All of that is true for you too.” “Of course. It’s why I recognized it so well.” He shifted slightly, legs unfolding so he was closer to me. “I’ve never denied being in love with him. Why do you fight it?” “He loves you.” Oops. That came out with a bitterness I had tried to keep out of my voice. “Perhaps,” was the soft agreement. “But you have a special place in his heart, Wufei. There is no denying that.” I wanted him to be right. Ancestors, but I wanted that so very, very desperately. Even the slightest doubt against it became unbearable. I flung myself to my feet, pacing the length of the living room restlessly. “Why are we even discussing this?” I snapped at him. Or the floor, really, since I still couldn’t make myself meet his eyes. “It’s what he wants, that’s what matters.” “That’s true. But what we want matters as well.” I couldn’t deny the truth of that. I stopped dead in my tracks, very unsettled by this conversation and without a good way of handling my response to it. “I need some tea. Hot tea.” “I got up to get some chocolate chip cookies, actually.” On safe ground, I snorted in disdain. “Those things are fattening.” “But good for the soul,” he pointed out in vague amusement. “It’s hard to eat loads of sugar and remain stressed.” If that were true…I just might have a cookie myself. But just one. + Somehow, Barton and I stayed up until the wee hours of the morning. Not really talking much, but content to stay in each other’s company. I woke up on the couch with a crick in my neck and a blanket draped over me. I eyed the blanket for a long, slightly out of focus moment. Its presence could not be explained, unless Barton or Winner decided to play mother for a moment and draped it over me. I glanced at the opposite couch to see Barton stretched out comfortably, a blanket draped over him as well. Okay, so maybe it was Winner. The scent of coffee wafted in the air, promising alertness and a taste more pleasant than morning breath. I got up and stumbled blindly towards the kitchen. Must…have…coffee… A mug wafting with steam drifted in front of my nose and I latched onto it with fervent greed. Whatever force that was holding the mug wisely let go and I drained its contents with contentment. After a full minute, in which the coffee was duly processed and the caffeine started to kick in, I looked up to see Winner grinning at me in amusement. ‘Good morning,’ he greeted with sparkling blue eyes. “Good morning,” I returned with as much dignity as I could muster. “You’re up early.” ‘Had a hard time sleeping,’ he admitted. ‘What do you want for breakfast?’ An intact kitchen, which meant I was cooking. “Why don’t you tell me what you want for breakfast, and I’ll cook.” ‘I’m not going to burn the house down!’ “I’d rather not take that chance, Winner. Now do you have a preference, or do I get to decide?” He pouted at me, but I’m immune to such tactics. Or so I like to tell myself. I quickly looked away before I lost all reason and actually let him attempt to cook, busying myself with looking in the refrigerator to see what we had to work with. “How about cheese omelets?” I looked over my shoulder to see how this was taken. I got a thumb’s up as a stamp of approval. “Hn. Go get Barton up, then.” By the time I had the first omelet done Barton was stumbling into the kitchen like a badly resurrected zombie. I handled him the same way I would have handled me—handed him a mug of coffee and stayed well out of range until it kicked in. Winner sat at the table and happily devoured the first omelet while I made the next one. Barton was watching him blearily, so as a precaution I filled the mug with more coffee. We had stayed up rather late last night maybe he needed more ‘go-go juice’ as Maxwell called it. Not truly awake or functioning, we were all fairly quiet during breakfast. Winner started doing the dishes (only fair since I cooked) while I finished eating. Barton was still watching him, but now he was frowning, like his thoughts were miles away. “Wufei.” My head snapped up when Barton’s voice broke the silence of the morning. “What?” “Have you noticed? He’s not making any sound.” I rolled my eyes. Maybe he needs a third cup of coffee. “Of course I noticed—” “No, I mean, he’s not making noise at all.” Barton was now looking directly into Winner’s startled face, and talking to him more than me. “Whenever you walk, move, even just doing the dishes—you’re not making the slightest bit of noise. It’s not just your voice, it’s like you’re operating in complete stealth mode.” I felt a little stupid as the realization hit me. He’s right. Winner has startled me several times now because I hadn’t heard him approach. Ancestors, I’d completely missed it. “Interesting,” I murmured. “So if we were to break that first, force him to make noise—” “—then maybe he’d gain his voice back,” Barton finished with growing enthusiasm. “It’s definitely worth a try,” I acknowledged.
“So what do we attempt first?” Twelve hours later, and none of us were particularly enthusiastic anymore. We’d tried everything we could think of to make Winner noisy, but most of our attempts had set off minor panic attacks and we’d been forced to stop and settle him down again. The last attempt (I had tried to put him on a firing range and let him target practice) set off an attack so bad that he’d barely been breathing for fear of being heard by someone. After that we unanimously voted to stop for the day and re-think our strategy. The idea was sound, but our approach to it was not. We went to bed early, after a very subdued dinner. I didn’t go to sleep, though. I just tossed and turned, trying to think up ways of breaking the unnatural silence without setting off any attacks. It was one of the few times when I wished for Maxwell—by nature, Barton and I were quiet. Maxwell was anything but. If there was anyone that could easily think of noisy things to do, it would be him. If he weren’t in communication blackout, I would have already called him. For several minutes I tossed and turned on my bed before giving up. Maybe Barton was up again like he had been last night. After that first rocky conversation (I still wasn’t sure what to think of that) he’d been very good company. I wouldn’t mind repeating the experience. Even the chocolate chip cookies were okay, although I had somehow been talked into eating three of them. As I passed Winner’s room, I heard a strange noise. It almost sounded like the soft snap of static electricity. Puzzled, slightly worried, I quietly eased the door open and stuck my head inside the room. Winner wasn’t sleeping, but sitting on the bed with some kind of black box next to him. The box had two long wires running from it, one of which was clutched in Winner’s hand. There was an open book in his lap, which captured most of his attention. As I watched he silently read from it, his lips forming the words without any sound. Then he stopped, the hand on the wire quivering slightly. There was pain and desperation in his face, along with grim determination. He closed his eyes tightly, then the wire was lowered to touch the skin of his thigh. If he had been able to, I’m sure he would have yelped in pain at the electric shock. “Sha zi!” I snapped in horror. “What are you doing?!” He jerked up, guilt scrawled all over his face, but no defense on his lips. I stalked inside the room and jerked the box and its charged wires away from him, which I promptly threw against the floor. The machine gave a satisfying choked whir of dying and melted components before shutting down. Assured of its demise, I turned my attention back to him. The blond head stayed bowed, eyes averted. I couldn’t stand it, this avoidance of his, and dropped to my knees in front of him, cradling his head with both hands and forcing him to meet my eyes. “Quatre, what are you doing? What are you thinking?” ‘I have to get past this,’ he finally stated. “And you will. That doesn’t explain why you’re voluntarily torturing yourself with electric shock.” Finally he truly looked at me, eyes blazing even as they filled with tears. ‘I have to get my voice back! I have to!’ “I understand that, and I have faith that you will.” It was hard to stay calm while looking at him. It hurt to see him so torn and desperate. “But why are you so insistent that you get it back now? I know nothing we tried today worked, but that just means we haven’t found the right method yet—what drove you to this?” He sat there, mute and miserable, fighting back tears. I didn’t understand this, I didn’t understand this at all, but I needed to. And I couldn’t just sit there and leave him in this world of pain. “Quatre, please, I can’t help if I don’t understand what’s wrong.” Several moments ticked past, agonizingly long before he finally spoke again. ‘If I don’t…I could lose it.’ Now we were getting somewhere, even if he were still being irritatingly cryptic. “Lose what?” ‘Wufei…last night…I heard you.’ He peeked up at me from beneath his bangs, chewing at his bottom lip nervously. ‘The conversation between you and Trowa, I mean.’ …oh…shit. For a split second I just panicked. He’d heard that?! It was bad enough Trowa knew—why have my ancestors suddenly decided to hate me? It was Quatre’s turn to capture my face, trying to keep my attention. ‘Don’t you see? I need you, need you both. For the longest time I didn’t think you wanted me, and now I find out you do, and Trowa does, and…and I can’t say what needs to be said, I can’t ask for what I need to because Trowa barely understands me right now! I have to get my voice back; I can’t lose this chance to have you both. I can’t!’ Holding both of his wrists, I pulled myself together and forced myself to take deep, calming breaths. This wasn’t the screw up I thought it was. Quatre…gods, but he was saying something I never dreamed was possible. He wanted me. Actually, he wanted both me and Trowa and was determined to have us both. I wasn’t…quite sure how to take that, but I could worry about the full ramifications later. Right now, I needed to assure him that I wasn’t going anywhere; that Trowa wasn’t going anywhere. Very, very slowly I leaned in close and brushed a chaste kiss across his mouth. He froze in complete surprise, a gentle blush suffusing his cheeks. He looked so adorable I wanted to kiss him again, but there were things to be said and if I started kissing him now, I probably wouldn’t stop anytime soon. “Quatre, listen to me. There is no time limitation on what we feel for you—you’re not going to lose both of us if you don’t act right this second.” Part of him believed me, but I think part of him didn’t. If there were any doubt whatsoever I was afraid that he would fix that blasted shock machine and go right back to trying to retrain himself the painful way. Or worse, he’d find something else equally as drastic and possibly more painful. Damn. Alone, I could not solve this. With a muttered curse I pulled him from the bed and out into the hallway. He stumbled after me, trying to tug me around so he could talk, but I refused to be sidetracked. Without knocking I barged into Trowa’s room, towing Quatre inside firmly. Trowa watched us with raised eyebrows. He hadn’t been sleeping either, just sitting on his bed and absently sharpening a knife. As we came in the knife and wet stone was set aside. “Wufei? You look fit to be tied.” That was a rather accurate description, actually. “Two things. One, Quatre heard our conversation last night.” Trowa’s jaw dropped slightly before he got his face back under control. “…I see.” “Two,” I continued in a clipped voice, “he is now so desperate to talk to both of us that I found him putting himself through some kind of demented shock therapy to get his voice back.” “WHAT?!” Out of the corner of my eye I saw Quatre flinch. I didn’t let Trowa fall into a lecture or a rant (he was building up to one, if the dark expression on his face was anything to go by) but continued as if I hadn’t been interrupted. “Tell him, Trowa.” My voice was becoming husky and I cleared it slightly before forcing myself to continue. Normally I would never have done this, but this wasn’t normal circumstances. “Tell him that you love him. Tell him that you’ll wait as long as it takes until he can speak again—tell him that you’ll stay even if he never does. He’s going to do it again unless we convince him that we’re not going to lose patience with him.” Quatre came up to stand beside me, and his eyes were so large that they seemed to consume his face. I don't think either of us breathed as Trowa moved forward, and gently enfolded Quatre into his arms. The blond sank into him, head resting on the brunet's shoulder, arms coming up to wrap around a trim waist. Trowa’s head bent so that he was murmuring into Quatre’s ear, the tone so soft I could not discern the words. I felt like an intruder watching them, and quietly stepped out of the room, closing the door gently behind me. He'd heard us… In the sanctity of the quiet and still hallway, the realization hit me like a ton of bricks. Quatre knew—knew that I loved him, that Trowa loved him. He wanted both of us. On the one hand, it meant that I wouldn't have to face being rejected. On the other, it meant I would have to share the man I loved with another. Talk about your mixed blessings. Still, I wasn't sure if that even really bothered me. My upbringing clearly said it was wrong to have anything but a monogamous relationship, but it also said that I wasn't supposed to fall in love with another male and that certainly hadn't stopped me. Besides, I wouldn't be sharing him 'with another man' I would be sharing him with Trowa. I'm not sure if I can put Trowa and 'lover' in the same mental space, and yet…and yet he was still my friend, and I didn't want him hurt. I didn't want to hurt Quatre either, by making him choose. If avoiding heart break all around meant sharing, I guess it was worth it to try. The door was jerked open behind me. I spun around, and nearly was knocked down when Quatre threw himself at me, holding tightly with one arm around my neck. Startled, I automatically caught him, steadying us both before we crashed to the floor. "Smooth move, Wufei," Trowa growled at me over Quatre's shoulder. "First you say that you'll wait, then you disappear right in the middle of the conversation. Real smooth." "I was just giving you both privacy," I objected. Quatre was latched onto me, and nothing short of a crowbar was going to change that. His free hand was wrapped tightly around Trowa's, supposedly to keep him from running off. Dammit, I was tired and did not feel up to the necessary conversation to straighten all of this out. I ducked my head, trying to coax Quatre to look up at me. "Airen, do you believe us? Can you have faith in us, as we do in you?" He looked up into my eyes, studying me thoroughly before giving me a gentle nod and smile. "Alright then. Let's get some decent sleep and tackle this in the morning, when we're not worn out." "My bed is the only one big enough to hold all three of us," Trowa noted, one eyebrow arched pointedly. …I guess sleeping together tonight would be the best option. It would certainly reassure Quatre, and that was the important thing right now. I nodded in agreement, following Trowa back into his room. It was a little awkward, settling all three of us on the bed. We put Quatre between us, and he was by far the happiest about the arrangement. He snuggled right against Trowa's chest, tugging at me until I spooned up against his back. Then he squirmed a little, settling, and went out like a light. It left me nearly nose to nose with Trowa, something that was more than a little awkward. Trowa's rueful smile indicated that he was feeling the same way, then he deliberately closed his eyes and his body relaxed. I did my best to fall asleep quickly. Everything could be dealt with in the morning. ~*~*~*~
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