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"It Could Only Be You"Written By: The Plotting Housewife Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sotsu
and associated Parties. This work is written for pleasure not profit. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: Yaoi, Fluff, Romance, Angst, Humor,
Post-Endless Waltz, Canon Compliant Pairings: 3x4, 4xOC, 2xH, 5xS Summary: Trowa's become accustomed to hearing
about Quatre's whirlwind romances, but when Duo informs him that the
blond has decided to tie the knot, he begins to regret the choice
he made two years ago. "It Could Only Be You " Duo must have facepalmed about fifty times in the last fifteen minutes. Trowa seemed perpetually unable to understand the gravity of the situation. He was of half a mind to slam the laptop closed and just say, “Fuck it.” Problem was, he simply cared too much about his friends, believed in his heart of hearts that Trowa and Quatre were meant to be. This whole situation just seemed so wrong. “He's got a new guy. Looks like you. Again.” “Good for him. What else is new?” Duo felt the incredulity on his own face and knew it was obvious when Trowa looked irritated and snapped, “What?” “Does this not bother you?” Trowa shrugged and turned back to folding his laundry. Duo stared through the computer monitor at the brunette's bare back, watching the muscles shift beneath the skin, and wondered how dense his friend had to be to not get this. He could also see the sweat that coated Trowa's skin from ten feet away and remembered the circus was currently in Florida. “Don’t you have air conditioning?” Trowa glanced at him over his shoulder as he folded a t-shirt. “Cathy has it in her room.” “Might want to invest in another one, buddy. Your bangs aren’t as...springy...as usual.” Trowa tossed the shirt down onto his bed and turned to face him. “Is there an actual point to this discussion?” Duo threw up his hands in exasperation. “I don’t know! Is there? You’d think another guy getting into Quat’s pants would get more of a reaction out of you than this - this...cadaver impression you've got down to an art form.” Though, despite his frustration, he was getting hot just watching the sweat roll down the prominent pecs and ridges of Trowa’s abdomen. He wiped a hand across his damp forehead and momentarily questioned his sexuality. “I can’t believe this doesn’t bother you.” “If it bothers you so much, why don’t you date him?” “Ha. Ha. Ha. You’re a funny guy, Tro. Not that I'd be opposed to shacking up with Blondie, but Hilde would murder me.” “Are we finished?” “No! Not until you admit your undying love for Quat. Preferably to him.” “Bye, Duo. Nice talking to you.” “But, Tro -” Trowa closed his laptop and stepped away, swiping a small hand towel off his bed and using it to wipe the sweat off his face and chest. He propped his hands on his hips and blew out a heavy sigh. It had to be a stifling one hundred twenty degrees in here. The tiny portable fan accomplished nothing except to move the scorching, stagnant air around. Perhaps it was time to invest in a window rattler.
***
Trowa had thought war was Hell, but nope. He was so wrong. Hell was erecting a giant circus tent in ninety seven degree heat with one hundred percent humidity. He pushed his bandanna up his forehead and rubbed stinging perspiration out of his eyes. The cloth tied around his head was only useful until it became so drenched that it stopped preventing the sweat from running down his face. He pulled it off and wrung it out, his eyes widening at how much fluid dripped from the soaked cloth. "Jesus." Who in their right mind would actually choose to live in this sun-baked swamp? “Yoo hoo!” He turned at Cathy’s cheerful chirp and watched his sister’s approach as he tied the wet bandanna back onto his head. She tentatively balanced a tray on her arm with two glasses of lemonade teetering on top. The melting ice made a pleasant tinkling sound against the glass and Trowa’s mouth watered at the prospect of cool refreshment, wondering how he hadn’t sweated out his saliva yet. She stopped in front of him and graced him with a bright smile. She was wearing her signature bikini top in hot pink and a pair of cutoff denim shorts. In her other hand, she clutched a white parasol to protect her from the worst of the sun's rays. Her skin was only mildly damp in contrast to his. Trowa accepted the beverage with a derisive grunt. His wet fingers slipped in the condensation on the outside of the glass and he had to grip it tightly to keep from dropping it. He sent her an irritable, resentful glare when she clinked their glasses together. No one had the right to be so perky in this God awful heat. He grudgingly acknowledged that Cathy would be one of those people who chose to live in this sauna, otherwise known as the Sunshine State. Trowa grumpily drank his lemonade, cringing slightly at sickly sweet taste. Why did she have to put so much sugar in it? Too thirsty to give a fuck, he tipped his head back and guzzled it down. It was so hot, the walnut sized ice cubes were now only half the size of a quarter. He crunched on them eagerly, still parched. “How’s it going?” She asked him. He cracked ice between his teeth and gave her a look that said, How do you think? She picked up on it easily and scoffed, applying a kick to the back of his calf with a flip-flopped foot. “Oh, don’t be so grouchy!” Trowa reached up and grasped the cords that were used to tie the giant canvas cover to its poles. He yanked them tight and threaded them through the loops and hooks on the pole. “I’ll be less “grouchy” when I’m not on the verge of a heatstroke. Whose bright idea was it to schedule our itinerary so that we would end up in Florida in the middle of July?” “Oh, it’s not that bad. Don’t be a drama queen.” “Says the woman who doesn’t have to put this thing up.” “Duo called, by the way.” Trowa groaned and pressed his forehead against the steel pole, lamenting the fact that it wasn’t even cool enough to feel good on his overheated skin. “What now?” “He said it was urgent.” “Of course he did." Everything with Duo was urgent. Everything was an emergency. The last time Duo said it was urgent, it had been to ask Trowa to settle an argument between him and Wufei over whether sharks were fish, or mammals. Trowa couldn’t imagine what kind of pressing matter needed his immediate attention now, but he was sure it was just as stupid as the last time. “I’ll go see what he wants. I need a break anyway.” Cathy grabbed his shirt which was hanging over one of the support rods and handed it to him. “Wipe that sweat off. I don’t want you dripping all over the carpet.” “Yes, Ma’am,” he muttered, rubbing the soft cotton of the tee over his drenched skin and hair. He grimaced at the wet splotch left behind and slung it over his shoulder as he made the trek back to their trailer. He had to wipe himself down a second time because the walk in the oppressive sun had him sweating all over again. He stepped into his room and flicked on the air conditioning unit that blocked half his window now. He tipped his head back and raised his arms out to the sides, sighing in sweet relief at the almost frigid air that blew against his damp skin. It was such a stark contrast, he shivered involuntarily as he spun in a slow circle, then used the shirt to wipe off the last of the perspiration. Finally cool enough to think straight, he pulled his chair out, plopping down in front of his desk, and flipped open his laptop. He pulled up his contacts and found Duo’s, clicking on the name. The video call screen opened, black for the moment. He rested his chin on his fist as he waited for Duo to pick up. “Y’ello! Oh hey, Tro. How’s it hangin’, dude?” Trowa blinked at Duo’s image, his keen eyes taking in the almost nervous expression despite the braided man trying to cover it with a smile. “What did you want this time?” Duo tipped up the bill of his cap and scratched his cheek. It was a trademark gesture of his when he was uneasy, or worried about something. “Erm...it’s about Quat.” Trowa’s resting bitch face never changed. “What? He broke up with his latest fling? What’s that now? Six in six months? This isn’t news, Duo. He’ll find another one.” He was trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but Duo faltered for a moment, almost as if he’d caught it. Trowa mentally kicked himself and increased his attempts to school his features and voice into neutrality. The problem was, Trowa was bitter. Very much so. Quatre had tried to start a relationship with him two years ago, even confessed his love for him. Trowa had panicked, terrified at the prospect of not only being in a relationship, but being in one with someone like Quatre. Someone who was beautiful and loving and kind and intelligent. Quatre was everything Trowa wasn’t. Popular, outgoing, friendly, charismatic, ridiculously wealthy. How, or why the blond had ever fallen in love with him was incomprehensible. Instead of responding in kind even though he felt the same, the only thing he could think of to do was escape, to run away because it was just too much and it could never work in a million years. They were from two different worlds. It would just never work. So he shut it down in the most effective way possible which unfortunately, was to break the blond’s heart. Even to this day, he felt like dog shit that had been stepped on and left out in the hot sun. And despite the fact that he’d walked away two years ago, his feelings for Quatre never wavered. He was still in love with him and it hurt. He justified it by telling himself it was for the best and tried to move on with his life. But he thought about the blond often and it was difficult to pretend he didn’t care when Duo called to tell him Quatre was seeing a new guy. Truth was, he did care. What he really wanted to do was pummel each and every one of Quatre’s boyfriends to a bloody pulp and tell them never to go near him again. It pissed him off even though he couldn’t blame Quatre for trying to move on with his own life. Though he hadn’t expected Quatre to become somewhat of a serial dater. His flings were passionate, as told by the media, but always short lived, with the blond eventually dumping his lovers before the month was over. Trowa, and Duo, also didn’t fail to notice how every man Quatre dated possessed an almost eerie resemblance to Trowa. Tall, muscular, with brown hair. Something Duo never failed to mention whenever he called to tell him Quatre had a new beau. He stared through the video screen, watching Duo fidget, and waited for yet another account of the flighty blond’s escapades ending in yet another Trowa doppelganger getting his heart broken. The odd thing was, Duo was never nervous when he reported to Trowa about Quatre’s break ups. Typically, he used it as an opportunity to goad Trowa into making his move. “Tro...Quat’s getting married.” Trowa's expression didn’t change. He never even moved. To an onlooker, he would have seemed completely unfazed, but inside, dumb shock had taken over. “What?” He tried, he really did, to keep his voice steady, and winced when the question came out in more of a squeak than a word. “The guy...Evan, his name is. I don’t know if I told you that when I talked to you last month. He proposed, Tro. And Quat said yes.” Trowa leaned back, blinking at the screen. He heard what Duo said, but for some reason, it wasn't computing. Quatre...married? This was something he hadn't anticipated. Quatre jumping from one relationship to the next was one thing, but this...this was...this was something he wasn't prepared to handle. Duo was waving his hand in front of the screen. "Hello? Tro? Did I break you? You okay, man?" No, I'm not okay! "Yeah, I'm okay." "You sure? Because I could have sworn -" "Thanks for letting me know, Duo. I have to go." "Well, wait a minute. What's going on? Did I finally hit a nerve? You know, you still might have time to -" "Bye, Duo." "Damn it, Tro -" Slam! Trowa stared at the white painted wall behind his desk, too stunned to do anything else. He never once believed Quatre would actually get married. He didn't know how to process this information. He jumped a little at the soft knock at his door and shook himself out of his zombie-like state, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah." The door cracked open and Cathy's head popped in. "Everything alright?" No. "Yes." He stood up from his chair and stepped over to the door. "I've got to get back to work." He brushed past Cathy who waved her hand in front of her nose. "Pew! Remember to take a shower when you're done."
***
Trowa was forced to endure more of his sister's company as he cleaned out the lion's cages. As if the smell wasn't bad enough on a normal day, the heat made it infinitely worse. Of course, it was his job since he'd practically begged the ringmaster to keep them after the stodgy man had made arrangements to sell them. Trowa wasn't above clasping his hands in front of him and dropping to his knees. The ringmaster had sniffed. "Fine. But they're your responsibility. Feed them, bathe them, exercise them, and muck out the cages. I'm too old to deal with it." This time, Trowa's bandanna was covering his nose and mouth as he shoveled the manure into a wheelbarrow to be buried. "You look like a gang member." Trowa's eyes were sharp over the red cloth covering half his face. "Is there a reason you're here?" Cathy looked mock offended. "What? You don't like my company?" Actually, it wasn't all bad. Cathy just had a penchant for trying to discuss Trowa's love life, or lack thereof. It was...complicated. He didn't know how to tell her that the only one for him was Quatre, but that he'd broken his heart because he was afraid of having a relationship with him. And he had virtually zero interest in dating anyone else. But Cathy was nothing if not totally onto him. "It's him, isn't it?" "Who?" "Don't play dumb, Trowa. You know who." God, it was too hot for this. "Can we not talk about this right now?" He wasn't thrilled about discussing the lost love of his life while shoveling lion shit. Cathy shrugged, not bothered in the slightest. She twirled the parasol on her shoulder and crossed one bare leg over the other, foot kicking idly in the air. "Suit yourself. What happened between you two anyway? You never told me." "Nothing." "Doesn't seem like nothing." "Cathy -" He lifted his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, but thought better of it after looking down at his manure stained work gloves. "Look, it just isn't something that's feasible, okay?" "Why not?" Damn, but were girls always this obtuse? "Because he's rich and famous. Everybody loves him. Who am I? A nobody." He gestured towards the poop-filled wheelbarrow. "Look at me, Cath! I'm cleaning shit out of a cage!" "Don't be vulgar. It was your choice to keep them." He dropped his arms and tipped his head back, gazing heavenward. Did she have to be so infuriating? He scraped the last of the manure off the bottoms of the cages and tapped the shovel's tip against the edge of the wheelbarrow to dislodge it, his face contorting in revulsion. "Never mind." Cathy huffed, a putout sounding sigh as if this was inconveniencing her in some way, and closed her magazine. "If you say so. Just know, you can tell me anything. You know that, right?" "Yeah, I know. Thanks." "And if you love him, go get him! Who cares about all that class stuff?" Lots of people, he thought, but didn't voice it. "Does he care that you're not rich?" "No." "So then, why should you?" She stood up, tucking her magazine beneath her arm, and folded her lawn chair. "Honestly, Trowa. It's not a crime to be happy. I really wish you'd quit punishing yourself, or thinking you're not worthy, or whatever it is you're doing. I'd much rather that than see you moping around here all the time." "I don't mope." She rolled her eyes and perched her parasol back on her shoulder. "Sure you don't. I'm going to take a nap before tonight's performance. You need anything?" "No, I'm good. I'm just going to hose these cages down and bury the sh - poop. I'll probably take a nap, too, after that." "After you shower." Now it was his turn to roll his eyes. "Yes, after I shower. Jesus." "Don't take the Lord's name in vain." Trowa sent her a perplexed look. "Since when do you care about blasphemy?" She shrugged and slid her sunglasses onto her nose. "I don't. Just seemed appropriate." He snorted, leaning on the shovel handle, and watched her leave. He listened to the fwap fwap of her flip flops slapping against her heels as she walked and rubbed an itchy spot on his nose beneath the bandanna. Why did the damned thing have to itch? He propped the shovel on top of the wheelbarrow and pushed it to the spot where he would bury the manure. He was completely soaked by the time he was done and hosed himself down in the refreshing cold water before he turned the spray on the cages. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps Duo was right. The only reason he and Quatre weren't together was because of his own hangups. He didn't know how he would be able to get through Quatre getting married, especially if he was invited to the wedding, which he doubted. Trowa, I love you and I think you love me, too. I don't love anyone. Not even you. He winced at the memory, kicking himself for being so cruel. They hadn't spoken since so it was unlikely he would be invited. Maybe he could crash it? Do the old, clichéd 'bust in when the priest asks if there's anyone who doesn't believe these two should be joined in matrimony, speak now, or forever hold your peace and declare his love for the bride' spiel. He tried to envision doing that and wound up picturing the herd of Quatre's twenty nine sisters beating him over the head with their jeweled handbags. He could kidnap him. Throw the blond over his shoulder and run out of the Mosque and into a waiting getaway car. But the likelihood of successfully pulling that off was slim to none. It wasn't easy to abduct and hide away a multi-billionaire playboy, especially one who'd been a Gundam pilot. Not to mention the fact that Quatre would probably not appreciate it. Hmm. Maybe that's a bad idea. Of course, Duo would probably tell him to go for it. There was really only one person he could objectively talk to about this. Someone who would tell him the honest to God truth. He finished washing the cages out and unhooked the lions' chains from around the trees. They'd been languishing in the shade of the surrounding forest and weren't too keen on moving. He managed to usher them back and promised them a tasty treat after the show. They yawned and curled up in their cages, going back to sleep. He headed back to the trailer and immediately jumped into the shower. It felt so good to wash the sweat and grime off. He tried not to groan in relief because it would no doubt wake Cathy up which would inevitabely lead to awkward questions. He considered jacking off, but decided he was too tired. He glanced down at his dick which hung limp against his thigh. "Why are you so tired? I did all the work." He dried off quickly and tiptoed past Cathy's room, not missing the loud snores that drifted through the door. Once in his own room, he flipped the air conditioner on and sat down at his desk. He took a moment to brace himself. The person he was about to talk to hadn't spoken to him in two years either. He wasn't sure how his call would be received. Here goes nothing... He opened his laptop and pulled up his contacts. Near the bottom of the list, he selected Heero Yuy's private number and clicked on it. Folding his hands over his mouth, he waited anxiously for his old comrade to pick up.
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