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"The Pact"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: Smut, Porn With Plot, OT5, Fluff, Mild
Angst, Humor, Fivesome, Angst, Newtypes, Possessive Behavior, Alternate
Universe - Dark, Non-Graphic Violence Pairings: 3x5x2x4x1 Summary: Formerly Intervention (retitled because the story detoured and went its own way).After seducing Quatre, the other four ex-pilots brave the uncharted waters of their new abilities and learn to cope with the unintentional gifts they were given. But as always, power requires responsibility and the humbling acknowledgement of humanity's weaknesses. The struggle to stay true to themselves becomes a dangerous and terrifying endeavor as they skirt the boundary where conscience bleeds into chaos and the dark abyss of temptation.
"The Pact" Chapter 7: Candied Yams Tuesday, December 16th, 3:32pm. L3 X7884, District six... Trowa had been in a rather...precarious state in the three days since he’d left Quatre’s apartment. The feelings he’d been nursing for close to six years seemed to have come to some sort of head. Especially now that he’d consummated those feelings. It was even more difficult to get Quatre off his mind. He couldn’t seem to control the spontaneous erections, or the dire urge to fly out to L4 and fuck the blond within an inch of his life. He tried to keep it on the down low, withdrawing somewhere private to relieve the pent up tension and arousal, but it was only a temporary fix and his stoic composure was beginning to crack at the seams. And Catherine was beginning to notice after the third time he accidentally dropped her during trapeze practice. “Damn it, Trowa,” she shouted as she bounced against the net. “What the hell has gotten into you lately?” She yanked herself up and rolled off, smoothing out her clothing with an agitated press of her hands. “Sorry.” He reached up and grabbed the trapeze bar, unhooking his legs from it, and swung himself back onto the platform. “Just distracted, I guess.” “Well, you’d better un-distract yourself because we’re performing tonight and so help me, if you drop me…” “I won’t, Cath. I promise.” He climbed down the ladder and took the bottle of water she held out to him. “Thanks.” She took a drink from her own bottle, never breaking her keen, eagle-eyed stare and Trowa’s skin prickled under the scrutiny. There were times when he despised her perceptiveness and this was one of those times. She capped her bottle and wiped her mouth on her wrist. “Are you on drugs?” The water in Trowa’s mouth sprayed out from between his pursed lips like a ceramic fish fountain. He turned shocked eyes on his sister and gawked at her quizzical expression. “What?” She gave him a derisive look, knowing damn well he’d heard her clearly. “Drugs, Trowa. You know...mind-altering substances? Weed, meth, cocaine, heroin, speed, LDS -” “LSD.” She pointed a triumphant finger at him and nodded like she’d just figured out the million dollar question on a TV gameshow. “See? How would you know that if you weren’t partaking in the narcotics and such?” “Cathy,” he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “One does not need to be on drugs to know the names of them. No. I’m not on drugs, okay?” She gave him a shrewd look. “Just what I’d expect a drug user to say.” He grabbed her by the arms and stared into her eyes, opening his own as wide as he could. “Look at me, Cath. Do you see any signs of me being under the influence? My eyes are not bloodshot, my pupils aren’t dilated. I’m. Not. On. Drugs. Okay? I’m - I’m just distracted and I’m sorry. I’ll do better.” He turned away and pulled a clean towel off the ropes that held the net taut to wipe the sweat off his face. “Okay,” Cathy conceded, a trace of exasperation in her voice. “So? Are you going to tell me what’s distracting you?” He paused with the towel covering the lower half of his face and closed his eyes. God, he knew that was coming next. He’d just hoped that it wouldn’t. “It’s...complicated,” he answered, hoping that would be enough. But of course it wasn’t. Of course. “How is it complicated?” She asked, catching the pleading expression on his face which begged her not to ask. She looked confused for a moment before her eyes lit up in excitement and Trowa immediately knew where her brain had gone. “No. Cath, no.” “Trowa,” she squealed, grabbing his hands in her own and bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Who is she? Come on, now. Don’t be shy. Tell me all about her. She must be quite the lady to have you all flustered like this.” “Cath -” She sighed dreamily and spun in a circle. “Young love. I must say, I was beginning to wonder about you. You never seemed interested in any of the pretty girls that have passed through here -” “Cathy -” “I want to know everything about her. No, scratch that. I want to meet her. How about you invite her over for dinner tonight. Or maybe tomorrow night if she’s busy. Oh! I know! I can make that Stroganoff you like so much. Does she like Stro -” “Cathy!” “What?” She turned, shocked out of her mooning by his emphatic tone. “What’s the problem?” Fuck, I’m not ready for this discussion yet. “Can we just change the subject, please?” Her face drooped in disappointment, mouth turning down into a pout, but she reluctantly shrugged her shoulders. “If you’d like. I don’t know why you wouldn’t want to tell me about her, though. She -” “It’s not a she!” Catherine froze with her mouth halfway open. “It’s - what?” He tipped his head back in frustration. Too late to take it back now, pal. He threw his hands up and headed over to the rows of seats where their rapt audience would be sitting in just a few hours, plopping down onto the ground floor bench. He rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his head into his hands. He sensed Catherine’s approach, but didn’t look up, not even when she sat down beside him and blew out a breath. He closed his eyes and waited for judgement. “Oh,” was all she said. “Yeah,” he muttered. “It’s him, isn’t it? That kid -” He lifted his head and glowered at her. “Quatre. You know his name and he’s not a ‘kid’, Cath. He’s twenty one.” She gave him a wry look. “You’re all kids to me.” “So…” He was still waiting for some kind of explosion, or condemnation. “That’s it? Just ‘oh’?” She smoothed out her ballet skirt and let out a defeated sounding sigh. “I want to say I’m surprised, but now that you’ve said it, I realize I already knew.” “Knew what?” “About you and him.” “There is no ‘me and him’.” At least he didn’t think so. What happened between them, and with Duo, Heero, and Wufei...well, it complicated matters and he had no idea where they stood. In all honesty, he wouldn’t blame Quatre for never speaking to any of them again. “Oh, Trowa. Don’t be dense.” He leaned back onto his hands and narrowed his eyes at her. “Not five minutes ago, you were gushing over me supposedly finding a girl and now you’re telling me not to be dense?” “I’ll admit some of that was wishful thinking.” “Just some?” She gave him a dark look. “Well, excuse me for wanting you to have a normal life.” He bristled and returned the glare, nerves sparking from the unexpected push of his buttons. “Who says I can’t even if I’m not with a girl?” “Come on, Trowa. He could never give you a stable life, or a family.” “My life has never been stable, but it’s more stable now than it’s ever been. I have two people to thank for that. You and him. As far as a family is concerned, there are other options if either of us ever wanted that.” What the hell am I saying? “Yeah, but...they wouldn’t be yours, you know?” “Is that really what you think a family is?” Now he was getting pissed off and he knew he should walk away before he said something he’d regret. “I would think you’d know better than anyone that family is not defined by blood. Especially considering you took me in and practically adopted me.” “I just want something better for you, Trowa.” He breathed in deep through his nose, trying desperately to quell the rage that was simmering beneath his skin. It scared him a little. He was never temperamental, not someone prone to acute bouts of anger, but the idea that Quatre wasn’t good enough for him, that someone dared to think he wasn’t, infuriated him. He stood up, shaking from the sudden rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins and his attempts to restrain the fury, and turned to leave before the situation got out of hand. His rational side was battling something else, something new and unfamiliar. Something that wanted control. Just like that time in Quatre’s bedroom. Calm down! She doesn’t mean anything by it. She’s just worried about you because she loves you. “Trowa? Did I - did I say something wrong?” He held a hand up, refusing to look at her for fear of unleashing something he did not want unleashed. “Don’t. Don’t come any closer.” “Trowa, what’s wrong? I’m - I’m sorry! I didn’t mean -” “Just...don’t, Cath. Not right now. I need to be alone.” He headed towards the back entrance of the tent, fuming hot and nostrils flaring. He was terrified over how quickly that had set him off, terrified of hurting Catherine. “Trowa! Wait -” “No! We’ll talk about this later, but not now, Cath. Please just leave me alone.” He stepped out into the cooler, climate-controlled air of L3 and lifted his gaze to the inky sky beyond the Plexiglass solar panels, dotted with tiny points of light. It was hard to imagine that those little specks were giant balls of radioactive plasma. They looked so small, twinkling serenely among the vast vacuum of space. It was something he had in common with his fellow pilots. That profound sense of inner peace that could only come from space. Zen, as Wufei liked to call it. His nerves began to settle a little but he was still in no shape to talk to Catherine. He walked back to his trailer, pulled a bottle of Heineken out of the fridge, and sat down on the sofa with a heavy sigh. These feelings, whatever they were, were beginning to drive him mad. He was edgy, horny, and had become rather short-tempered. Something he’d never been before. He was snapping at people left and right, more often than not, getting irritated with them over the most trivial things. He had no desire to have sex with anyone aside from Quatre, but that in itself wasn’t unusual. The only one he’d ever really wanted was Quatre. For the last six years, the blond was the one he pictured in his mind when he felt the need to indulge in a late night fantasy. But casual sex wasn’t something he was opposed to and had done it a few times when he got to the point where his hand was no longer enough. Sometimes you just needed the hot wet suction of a mouth and the unbeatable sensation of sinking your dick into a willing body to exercise the sexual demons. He wound up looking for petite blonds, similar to Quatre in appearance and though he felt guilty afterwards, it made it so much easier to pretend he was fucking the person he was truly pining for. He couldn’t stop thinking about Quatre. He couldn’t stop obsessing over how he’d tasted, the substance he’d produced was almost like an elixir. Like a sweet opiate and aphrodisiac that seemed to replenish him after he’d consumed it. He couldn’t get enough of it, could still taste it and he craved it like a fiend in need of a fix. And Quatre’s reaction to the way they’d exerted their dominance simply fed into the intoxicating rush of power and need, producing more and more of the substance until he was soaking wet with it. Trowa’s memory of that night was still a little foggy, but he distinctly remembered burying his face between the cheeks of Quatre’s ass and devouring the slick fluid like a dying man drinking from a cool lagoon after weeks in the scorching heat of the desert. He remembered a slight scuffle between the other three, pulling him away from his prize so that they could get a taste. He recalled a sharp yank on his hair and then he’d watched with wild, feral eyes as Duo took his place. The scent of that fluid had affected all of them the same way and consuming it produced the same effect as a shot of adrenaline. He remembered pinning Quatre to the floor and driving his cock into the blond’s pliant body with such force, it frightened him after all was said and done. At the time, there was nothing that could have pulled him away, so single-minded he was in his need for completion, nothing else mattered. After he came, he was pushed off and rolled to the side where he watched Duo mount their friend and press inside him with a similar display of aggression. They’d each taken a turn, none of them showing even an ounce of mercy, or sanity for that matter, until they’d gotten off and then they came around slowly, awareness bringing to light the sobering reality of what they’d done. Quatre was spent, having climaxed multiple times, evident when they’d finally rolled him onto his back. Thankfully, he appeared uninjured with the exception of hand prints around his wrists, upper arms, and hips, as well as several love bites dotting his neck and shoulders. His opening was only slightly red with no blood, or tearing and the strange substance seemed to dry up once it was all over. His ability to put Quatre to sleep was even more troubling. Since he’d been back at the circus, he’d attempted the same thing on a few others, but with no results. Heero had hypothesized on the way back to the shuttle port that perhaps Quatre’s empathy had a prolonged effect on them. After so many years of bonding in close proximity, perhaps Newtype abilities began to affect those around them. Granted, it was the most logical explanation, but it still didn’t answer the questions of why they’d seemed to have so much control over Quatre who was typically someone that could not be controlled, or why Quatre had produced that substance. Or why they all seemed to be so much more intricately connected to each other, linked together through their connection with Quatre. On top of everything else, this disturbing level of arousal and the hostility he’d been inadvertently displaying both confused and worried him. He found himself so distracted by thoughts of Quatre, that he was becoming forgetful, distracted. He’d forget to eat, he was having trouble sleeping, and the separation anxiety was only getting worse with each passing day. The possessiveness was also worrisome. It was bordering on obsession now and even though he was pretty sure Quatre hadn’t gone out and found himself a new sex partner three days after he was fucked into unconsciousness by his four best friends, it didn’t stop Trowa from compulsively thinking about it. From this distance, it was impossible to know what the blond was doing at any given time and it pissed Trowa off, consuming him with a desperate urgency to find out. He hadn’t tried to contact Quatre yet and he was certain the other three hadn’t either. And as far as he knew, Quatre had not yet contacted any of them. Not hearing from him made Trowa restless and tetchy. At the very least, a phone call to let them all know he was okay would suffice. Actually, it wouldn’t suffice, but it was better than this maddening silence. His phone jarred him from his thoughts, rattling against the coffee table as it blared out a looping clip of Tears of a Clown which Duo had downloaded as a joke and Trowa just never bothered to change. It was a rather catchy tune. A timeless classic. He set his beer down and swiped the phone off the table, hoping against hope that Quatre had finally decided to call, or at the very least, Heero with some new developments. He glanced at the display and groaned when he saw it was Duo. Duo had taken it upon himself to ‘check in’ with each of them, asking them invasive questions in his need to compare notes. The last time they’d spoken, which was that morning, Duo informed him that Heero and Wufei had stopped answering his calls. Trowa was tempted to do the same, but it seemed he was a glutton for punishment because he slid his finger across the screen to connect the call and placed the phone against his ear. If nothing else, he could chalk it up to morbid curiosity. “What is it now, Duo?” “Oh, thank god,” Duo exclaimed, sounding relieved. “I was worried you wouldn’t answer either, but I know you’re actually a good friend who wouldn’t do that to me. Right?” Trowa rubbed his forehead and leaned back into the cushions. “Only if you have something to say that doesn’t involve you whining about how horny you are.” “Tro, it’s killing me,” Duo informed him, proceeding to do just that. “Hilde let me do her, you know…” Trowa winced at the admission. “Because I was going bonkers and taking her with me, but it didn’t help! It didn’t do shit, man. Why didn’t it work? It’s always worked before.” “I don’t know, Duo. Heero’s trying his best to figure this out.” “I know you guys are in the same boat. I don’t know how I know that, but I just know so that makes me feel a little bit better. Is this what it’s like for Quat all the time?” “Minus the need to dry hump everything, yes. I think so.” “I feel like just dropping everything and going back to L4. I need him, Tro. I can’t stand this anymore.” Fuckin’ A, neither could Trowa. He wanted nothing more than to shuck his responsibilities and spend the rest of his life worshipping Quatre’s body. “I don’t think Quatre would appreciate us banging his door down just to have sex with him again,” he said instead. “You still haven’t heard from him, have you?” He rubbed his face in agitation. “No. No, not yet.” “Just call him, dude!” “Why don’t you just call him?” “Because he’s closest to you and...I don’t want him biting my head off.” “So it’s better that he bites my head off. I get it, thanks.” “Oh, you know what I mean. Besides, I don’t think he’s capable of biting your head off.” Trowa wasn’t so sure about that. What happened between the five of them likely changed the game and the stress of not knowing what was going on was eating away at him. If he were honest, he could easily picture Quatre going on some raving, long-winded rant about his horn-dog friends, complete with a colorful array of Arabic curses. Duo immediately picked up on Trowa’s reticence. “You’re scared to call him, aren’t you?” He shifted, uncomfortable with admitting such a weakness. Oh, who are you kidding? You’re fucking petrified. “A little, yeah.” “Damn. This sucks, doesn’t it?” “Yeah.” He leaned forward when he heard a knock at the door. “Hang on a sec, Duo.” He pulled the phone away from his ear and called out, “Who is it?” “Trowa...it’s me. Can I come in?” Catherine’s voice drifted through the door, sounding soft and cautious. She’d come to make peace. Of that Trowa was sure. “Yeah,” he answered, feeling calm enough now to talk to her. He pressed the phone against his ear again. “Duo, can I call you back? I need to talk to my sister.” “Yeah sure, buddy. Or you can just wait until I call you back again. It’s up to you. Just…” Duo lowered his voice to a secretive hush. “If you do decide to go see Quat...take me with you?” “Bye, Duo.” “Tro -” He disconnected the call and looked up at Catherine who stood in the doorway, looking sheepish and holding a covered dish in her hands. She help up the dish and tried for a smile. “Peace offering?” Trowa could smell its contents from his place on the couch and his eyes lit up with pleasure. “Are those candied yams?” Catherine grinned. “Of course! The best comfort food there is.” “You got that right.” Trowa returned the grin and got up, leading her into the kitchen where he pulled a couple of bowls out of the cupboard. Catherine fished one big spoon and two smaller ones out of his silver drawer and Trowa watched her pull the top off the container, releasing a plume of steam into the air. The smell of sweet potatoes, butter, cinnamon, and nutmeg wafted across his nose and his mouth watered, suddenly more hungry than he’d been in three days. Catherine dipped the spoon into the casserole and scooped out a giant portion, both of them laughing at the strings of gooey marshmallow that spilled over the sides. Trowa held his bowl up for her and then the other so she could spoon it in. “Perfect as always, Cath.” “It’s the perfect winter comfort food. My mother used to make it every time the weather called for snow and then we’d cuddle together on the sofa, under a mound of blankets -” she laughed “- With our bowls of candied yams and watch the snow fall outside. It was so peaceful. I can’t remember another time I've ever felt so safe.” Her smiled faded as her expression shifted from amusement to wistful and faraway. “I miss her.” Trowa reached across the counter and took her hand. “I’m sorry, Cath.” He’d never even known his family and in some ways, he thought that might have been better. At least he had no memories for which to grieve their loss. She wiped a few tears away and smiled at him. “It’s okay. I know she’s somewhere better now, looking down at me. I just hope I’ve made her proud.” “I have no doubt about that. I’m sure wherever she is, she’s singing your praises. She raised an outstanding young lady.” “Flatterer,” she teased, blushing prettily. “Well, dig in before it gets cold!” “You don’t have to tell me twice.” He picked up his spoon and scooped up the warm, gooey goodness, his eyes closing in bliss at the first heavenly taste. “Mmm...that is so delicious. Perfection!” “Mom’s recipe,” she told him with a wink. “I remember my father used to joke that she could create a six course gourmet meal with a sack of potatoes and a blade of grass.” “She sounds like a treasure.” “She was.” They ate in silence for a few moments, just enjoying the food and the pleasant company. The rift between them melted away just like the marshmallows on the casserole melted in their mouths. Halfway through, Catherine pointed her spoon at him and said, “I had a little brother, too.” Trowa swallowed a bite of casserole and glanced up at her in surprise. “You did?” “I did,” she told. “He’d be about your age now.” “What happened to him?” “He was...lost. Killed, I think. In the attack that killed my parents. He was only two at the time.” “I’m so sorry, Cathy.” “His body was never found,” she told him and then laughed, a self-deprecating sound. “I like to think he made it somehow. That he was taken in by a nice family and that he’s out there somewhere. Happy, you know?” He shrugged. “Nothing wrong with that. It’s good to keep hope alive. And who knows? Maybe you’re right.” “When I first met you, I almost thought you were him,” she confessed, flushing in embarrassment. “Silly, I know.” “It’s not silly, Cath.” “There’s just something about you...I don’t know. It’s like, when I look at you, I feel like I’m looking at a younger version of my father.” “I’m sure psychologists would have a field day with that,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood and detract from the twinge of uneasiness that twisted in his belly. She chuckled and spooned in another mouthful, waving her hand in dismissal. “Ignore me. I’m just being weird.” She paused and watched him eat for a moment, worrying her lip between her teeth. “So...did you and Quatre get into a fight, or something?” He looked up, taken off guard by the question and shook his head. “No. No, nothing like that.” “Then what is it?” “What is what?” “Don’t play dumb, Trowa. The fact is, you’ve been different ever since you came back a few days ago.” “I’m just stressed out.” Please don’t make me tell you what happened. I don’t think I could handle your judgement if you ever found out what I did. I’m not proud of myself, Cath. “Something must have happened,” she pressed. “There’s something different about you. I can’t really put my finger on it, but ever since you came back, there’s been something there that’s...it’s not you.” Her eyes widened and then narrowed, turning dark and threatening. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?” “What? Cathy, no! Of course he didn’t, god. No, he didn’t do anything wrong.” She licked her spoon clean and then set it into her empty bowl. “Did you hurt him?” He looked away, feeling as though he’d been busted red handed. He didn’t want to lie to her, but he just...didn’t know what actually happened. “It’s...complicated, Cath, okay? Can we just leave it at that for now? I don’t - I don’t really know what’s going on either.” “Are you in some sort of trouble?” Define ‘trouble’. “No, I - I don’t think so. It’s just something he and I need to figure out together and we need some time to do that.” “You’re scaring me, Trowa.” “Please, please don’t be scared, Cath.” He rested his hand on top of hers and squeezed it reassuringly. “I’m alright. He’s alright. When I know more, I will definitely tell you.” She pinned him with a firm look. “You promise?” He nodded emphatically. “Yes. I promise you I will. And I’ll be fine. Nothing bad is going to happen, okay?” She turned her hand over and wrapped her fingers around his. “You really are like a brother to me. I don’t want to lose you.” “You won’t. I swear to you, I’m not going anywhere, okay?” She blew out a breath and nodded, summoning a smile for him. “Okay. I believe you.” “Thank you. You want some coffee?” “Sure, if you’re having some.” She grabbed the bowls and took them to the sink while Trowa got the coffee ready. “I’m going to leave most of this with you, but I’m going to take a little bowl home for a midnight snack.” “You truly are an angel.” “I know,” she quipped as she spooned a little for herself into a small Tupperware container and then covered the rest and placed the leftovers in Trowa’s fridge. “Rena keeps telling me I shouldn’t eat after seven o’clock. Every minute past on the lips, a lifetime on the hips, she says. But I don’t think I could ever give up my midnight sna -” She stopped short and balked, leaning forward and peering into the icebox with an appalled expression. “Good god, Trowa! It’s practically empty in here. When was the last time you went to the grocery?” He shrugged and flicked the coffeemaker on. “Dunno. Been a while. I usually just grab takeout, or have a TV dinner. The freezer’s full of them.” She pulled the freezer door open and made a disgusted face. “You cannot live on TV dinners, Trowa Barton.” “Why not? It’s a full course meal. Look…” He walked over to the freezer and pulled out a box of spaghetti and meatballs, showing her the picture on the front. “Carbs, protein, two servings of veggies.” “A growing boy like you needs homecooked meals.” “I stopped growing three years ago, Cath.” “It doesn’t matter.” She slammed the freezer closed, leaned against it, and stared at him with her signature ‘mother hen’ face. “I hope Quatre knows how to cook.” “Quatre is not required to cook for me. Besides, I know how to cook. I just don’t see the point when it’s just me.” And we’re not even together and may never be at this point, he reminded himself. “He should.” “Cath, he’s busier than I am! This isn’t the 1950’s first of all and second, he’s not a doting housewife.” “But you want him to be,” she said, winking mischievously as if she was onto some huge secret. Trowa was, quite literally, saved by the bell and he gave her one last stern look before he left the kitchen to answer his phone, intent on telling Duo to just beat one off and take a damned chill pill. He grabbed the phone off the table and swiped his finger across the screen without bothering to read the display. “Duo, I swear to Christ. If you call me one more time before -” “Trowa?” His heart stopped for a moment and then restarted with a painful lurch. “Quat? Is that you?” “Yeah, hi. How are you?” “Hang on. Don’t hang up, okay? Just gimme a sec.” He turned to Catherine who was already leaving with her little bowl of leftovers. “I’m going,” she told him, pausing at the door. “Remember, dress rehearsal at six.” “I know. Thanks, Cath.” “You two work this out, whatever it is. I believe in you. Toodles,” she chirped and skipped down the steps as the door swung closed behind her. Trowa lifted the phone back to his ear. “Quat?” “Yeah, I’m here.” “How are - are you alright?” God, it was so good to hear his voice. He sunk down onto the sofa, feeling weak and shaky with relief. “I’ve been worried about you.” “I’m okay,” Quatre assured him. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, Quatre. I don’t know what happened, but I do know that I will never forgive myself if we -” “I said I was fine.” “Are you sure?” “Yeah, I’m...I’m sorry I didn’t call you sooner. I just - I needed time to think.” “That’s understandable.” “No, you don’t understand. Not about what we did. It was more about -” He broke off and Trowa heard a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. “Allah, I don’t know how to say this.” “You know you can tell me anything, Quat. You know that, right?” “Under normal circumstances, yes. I know that, but what I have to tell you...well, it’s not anything that could be considered ‘normal’.” He sighed again and Trowa chewed his lip as he waited, feeling jittery and impatient. “I know what happened that night.” His belly flipped over with a giddy sense of relief. “You do? Oh, thank god!” “Yeah, but...it’s not exactly...orthodox.” “Quatre, for Christ’s sake, just tell me what’s happening!” “I will. If you’re not sitting down though, I suggest you do. And maybe you should grab yourself another Heineken...maybe a few. Maybe a whole case...” “Quat, I find it hard to believe it’s so bad that I need to get drunk.” “I think it is.” “Why?” “I did.”
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