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"A Pirate's Trade"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: Alternate Universe - Pirates, yes I
went there, Yaoi, Smut, Questionable Pirate Morality, Arrrrg Pairings: 2x1, 3x4 Summary: Captain Maxwell of the Shinigami, second
most feared pirate to sail the Seven Seas, unwittingly stole precious
booty from the one man who is more feared than he is. Oops. "A Pirate's Trade"
Chapter 7: Discoveries and Miracles Wufei pulled Trowa aside while the rest of the crew sorted through the now abundant amount of supplies. There was more than enough food to last a few months, jugs of water, plenty of rum and ale, clothing, gun powder, and a few luxuries including the silk nightgowns and chemises in various shades of colours that Trowa had gotten for Quatre to wear when they were alone in the cabin. In addition to that, several pairs of lace-topped stockings, a few more necklaces, some jeweled hair pins, and two tins of rouge for Quatre's cheeks and lips. To say he was looking forward to walking into his cabin and seeing his catamite dressed in slinky négligée and jewels, his curls pinned up on top of his head, and his creamy cheeks and plump lips stained with rouge, would be an understatement. He was distinctly aware of the rising bulge in his breeches from the thought of ravishing the beautiful blond. Of mussing up that carefully styled hair, smearing the rouge across his face, and wrenching those delicate skirts up to plunder that sweet body beneath. He leaned against the railing of the main deck and crossed his arms over his chest. "What is it, Wufei." Wufei glanced out towards the horizon. The sun was high in the sky and it would be hours before it set and the water out to the west was a deep, dark blue. Trowa waited patiently, watching the man's chest rise and fall beneath his silk waistcoat, catching a glimpse of the Manchu beneath. Trowa had no idea how he could wear so much clothing in this heat and not break a sweat. Wufei was indifferent to extremes in temperature, something he'd always admired. "You frightened him." Trowa shot his friend a slightly amused grin. "Why, Fei. I do believe you're developing quite the soft spot for my boy." Wufei scoffed and looked away. "He is...more than just beauty. He is a many great things." "I know." "Do you? I'm not so sure." "What are you talking about?" "You still treat him like he's a boy. Like the only thing he's good for is warming your bed. Do you know how intelligent he is?" Yes, Trowa did know. He wasn't sure where this was coming from. "You know I only treat him that way off the ship and you know why." Wufei shook his head and leaned over the railing, watching the waves smack against the bow. "He has so much potential, Trowa. He's one of the most intelligent people I've ever met. He's also the kindest and he's demonstrated on more than one occasion that he has leadership skills. Don't relegate him to his appearance and his sex appeal. He could be an extremely valuable asset to this crew." "Quatre is a catamite, not a sailor. Before I grabbed him, he'd never even been on a ship before." Wufei turned on him, his eyes sharp. "Have you seen his maps? He not only accurately charted out the waters west of the New World, but he also corrected Quinze's mistakes. He's not just a catamite, Trowa. He's much more than that and I..." Wufei paused as Trowa's gaze darkened. "Forgive me for being so forward, I do not want to see such potential go to waste. He can still be your lover, but we could really use skills like his, and not only when it suits your fancy to indulge him." Wufei watched the incoming form of another ship, preparing to dock and breathed out a heavy sigh. "He's eighteen now, Trowa. He's a man. It is time you start treating him like one." Trowa's hackles rose at his First Mate's commanding tone. His instinct was to lash out and reprimand Wufei for his insubordination. But he was the man Trowa trusted most in the world and the best friend he'd ever had besides Catherine. Wufei's arguments were always given with the utmost respect and Trowa's welfare was always his priority. Wufei was the only one who was allowed to challenge him. Still, Trowa's inbred stubbornness would not allow him to concede. "How did I frighten him? I did nothing threatening towards him." Wufei's face was incredulous and Trowa felt like he was missing something. "Or did I?" Wufei let out a long sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I swear, you are the most dense man in the world sometimes. No, Quatre saw Zechs put a gun to your head." Trowa still wasn't catching on. "And...what?" It certainly wasn't the first time he'd had a gun to his head. "And that scared him, Trowa!" Wufei threw up his hands in exasperation. "He cares about you. I could even say he loves you -" "Did he tell you that?" "No! Damn, but are you blind? It's in his eyes every time he looks at you. He adores you." Now, the puzzle was clicking into place. "So seeing me in danger...oh." "Exactly. Look, I know you're just doing what you do. I know it's necessary sometimes, but you have to consider how something like that might affect him. How would you react if someone put a gun to his head?" That was easy. Trowa would rip their head off and mount it to the Catherine's mast. He didn't say anything out loud, but Wufei already knew the answer to that. He nodded and turned back to the railing. "Just remember that next time. I'm not telling you to do anything different, but just try to keep his feelings in mind. Think about how it would affect you. Like you said, he's not a sailor. He's also no pirate. He's not ruthless and he does not like violence. Seeing someone he cares deeply about in danger -" "I wasn't in danger." "He didn't know that, Trowa! It doesn't matter. It terrified him. Just don't forget that he's there and he's watching. Do you want him to wind up like us?" That was a definite no. If there was one thing he was determined to do, it was to keep Quatre the way he was. Sweet, gentle, loving. To turn him into himself, or Wufei would be criminal. But Wufei wasn't finished. "That's not to say he shouldn't learn to be more world weary. He needs to be tougher if he's going to be able to defend himself in the future. Teach him to fight. Or let me." "No. He doesn't need to. I will protect him." "Can you really say you'll always be there to protect him? What if something does happen to you? I know you're not foolish enough to believe you're infallible. What if something were to happen? What if he finds himself on his own? You can't keep him chained to your side forever. Do you want him to face the world defenseless as a newborn kitten? Or would you allow him to have a fighting chance?" Wufei stepped closer, his dark eyes earnest. "I care about him, too. I want to keep him safe. But we cannot be under any delusions that we will always be able to protect him. He's not a child. Give him a chance to be a man. Give him a chance to survive on his own." Trowa sighed and turned away, leaning over the railing. "I don't like this." "You don't have to. But we have to be realistic. It's more dangerous for him if he doesn't know how to protect himself." "I will think about it. Alright?" Wufei held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "That is all I ask." "Anything else?" Wufei glanced around, then shook his head. "No. I don't believe so. We did well. More than well. We're stocked for several months." Trowa nodded, watching the approach of a ship, his eyes tracking the anchors as they dropped into the water. "Everyone accounted for?" "Yes." "Set the course for India then." "Aye, Sir. Go see your boy. I think he needs some...reassurance." Trowa turned shocked eyes on his friend and they widened even more when the man winked one dark eye before he turned away, heading for the helm. Trowa glared at his retreating back as he heard him cackle and resisted the urge to throw something at him. He grabbed the items he'd purchased for his catamite and headed back towards the cabin, his groin already perking up with interest. Wufei did have a point though Trowa was reluctant to address it. It was better and safer for Quatre if he knew how to fight. It was difficult to reconcile in his mind. A catamite knowing how to fight? Unheard of. They had one purpose and one purpose only. Teaching Quatre how to fight, allowing him to have a more lucrative position as part of the crew muddied waters that Trowa wasn't sure he wanted muddied. If that happened, Quatre's status as a catamite would be in question. He would no longer be a possession and Trowa quite liked him as a possession. Perhaps it was selfish of him, not allowing the boy to reach his full potential. The truth was, he didn't want to share any aspect of Quatre with anyone. Keeping him as a catamite ensured that everything about Quatre was his and Trowa was not keen on changing that. But Quatre also had wonderful things to offer the world and as tragic as it would be if he became hardened like Trowa and his men, it would also be tantamount to criminal to deprive the world of someone like Quatre. The boy had the potential to do great things, to become something great. Did Trowa really have the right to stifle that? He was still undecided and he knew it would probably take some time before he felt ready to permit such things. Until then, he had a stunningly beautiful catamite that was all his, only his. He opened the door to his cabin, ready for an entertaining night of watching the boy try on his new things, coupled with a great deal of delightful debauchery. Quatre was lying on the bed, seemingly asleep. His back was turned and Trowa closed the door quietly, not wanting to startle him awake. He much preferred to rouse the boy slowly and in more erotic ways. He raised a brow when he heard a slight whimper and set the purchases down onto the chair beside the wardrobe, under the assumption that Quatre was having a nightmare. He crawled onto the bed and draped his long body over the boy, instantly freezing when he realized something was wrong. Quatre was burning hot. The heat coming off his skin, permeating through Trowa's clothing was like fire and despite him nearly boiling with fever, his slender body trembled and shivered as if he was cold. Trowa's heart sunk into his belly as he turned him over, his eyes taking in the slight yellow tinge to Quatre's normally peachy skin. "Oh, bugger. No." He leaped off the bed and threw the door open, startling his crew with his urgent strides as he made his way across the deck. He found Wufei still at the helm, conversing with the pilot. Wufei sensed his approach and turned, his eyes widening at the rare expression of terror in his captain's face. "Trowa...what is it?" Trowa gripped his elbow and began pulling his friend back towards the cabin. "Come with me." "I'm coming, I'm coming." Wufei's voice dropped, speaking in a harsh whisper. "Don't panic the crew. What's the matter? Is it Quatre?" Trowa didn't answer. His heart was pounding erratically. His blood pumped adrenaline throughout his body, dread settling in the pit of his stomach. He was fairly certain he knew what it was, but he needed Wufei to confirm, or deny it, hoping against hope it would be the latter. He pulled his friend inside and shut the door, then reached over the bed and gripped Quatre's chin, turning his face towards Wufei. The boy murmured through chattering teeth but didn't wake. Trowa opened Quatre's shirt, groaning mournfully as the yellowed skin of his catamite's chest and belly were revealed. He dipped his head, closing his eyes for a moment before chancing a glance at his friend and his worst fears were confirmed when he saw Wufei's grim expression. Their eyes met, Trowa's begging him to tell him it wasn't what he thought it was and Wufei's dark with the truth. "Oh, Trowa. I'm sorry." "Just...is it?" Wufei nodded solemnly. "It's the Yellow Fever. I've seen it before. I had it as a child. I nearly died." Trowa shook his head frantically, stubborn refusal settling deep into his bones. "He's not going to die. I won't let him." "Trowa, you know I will help you. You shouldn't even be near him. You haven't had it -" "I'm not leaving him." "Trowa, don't be a fool! I've had it before. I will stay with him, but if you -" "I've already been exposed. I'm not leaving him." He tucked an arm beneath the boy's head and gathered his shaking body into his arms, cradling him against his chest. "What do we do?" "We keep him isolated, for one thing. He does not leave this room and no one else comes in here. We cannot risk exposing the rest of the ship." Trowa tenderly brushed blond hair, limp with sickness, away from Quatre's yellow tinged forehead and pressed a kiss to the burning skin. "And then what?" "The only thing we can do is keep him hydrated. Support his body with what it needs and try to keep him alive until it runs its course. We can use the ocean water to keep his fever under control and hope for the best. But, Trowa," Wufei rested a hand against his friend's shoulder. "The mortality rate -" "I know what the mortality rate is," he snapped. "He's not going to be among them." Wufei only nodded, knowing arguing wouldn't get them anywhere. The chances of Quatre surviving this were slim. He would burn, high and dry and his body would convulse from the fever. He would bleed, inside and out. If he succumbed, and chances were he would, it would most likely be due to hemorrhaging, or dehydration. All they could do was try to keep his body temperature as low as possible, give him enough water to keep him alive, and hope for the best. He didn't even want to think about the very likely probability that the boy would die and what that would do to Trowa. Even worse, Trowa had now been exposed. If he became ill, command of the Catherine fell to Wufei. He watched his captain, his friend, cradle Quatre with a tenderness he rarely saw and his heart broke for him, for them. He'd always known there was a human being behind that frigid, callous exterior. Who knew a lowly catamite would be the one to bring it out of him. He watched them for another moment, bittersweet warmth in his chest as Trowa lowered his head and buried his face into the boy's hair. He pressed his hand on the back of Trowa's head, a gesture of comfort, then stepped back and reached for the door. "I'm going to get some sea water and fill the tub. It's cold enough that it should bring his fever down some. I'm also going to get a few jugs of fresh water. You are officially quarantined. Both of you. Only I will come in and out of this room for the next two weeks until we can be sure the virus hasn't spread." He nodded when Trowa looked up at him. "I will run the ship in the meantime until I am sure you are not ill. We cannot risk the crew." "I know," said Trowa, looking back down at the boy in his arms. "He's cold." "That's the fever. Covering him up will only make him retain heat. Get those clothes off of him and put them in -" He was interrupted when Quatre suddenly heaved and Trowa rolled him onto his side with a curse, holding the boy's head over the edge of the bed while he vomited. "I'll get a few buckets. There's going to be a lot of vomiting. When you get his clothes off, put them in the corner over there." He pointed to the corner farthest from the door. "Everything he comes into contact with needs to be put there to keep it contained. They will have to be thrown overboard." Quatre's heaves subsided and Trowa rolled him back into his arms, using the lapel of the boy's shirt to wipe the spittle and bile from his lips. "He's going to bleed, Trowa. This is going to be a very difficult week and that's even if he survives -" "He will survive." Wufei paused, then nodded. "I'm going to start gathering the supplies we'll need. You need to eat and drink plenty of water yourself. And sleep when he does. You'll need your strength and energy when his fever spikes." He observed them for another long moment and realized this was love. Real love. Trowa had never said it, but this was it. He was willing to risk his own life for the boy. Wufei would have done the same for his wife, Meilan. This was love in its most purest, visceral form. "I will return shortly. Get him undressed. We're going to put him in the tub once I get it filled. Do not leave this room. Understood?" It felt strange commanding his captain, but he supposed he'd better get used to it and quickly. He was in charge for the next two weeks and if Trowa and Quatre both died, he would become the Catherine's new captain. The only thing he could do was hope for a miracle and try to ignore the voice in his head that told him there was no such thing. In the days that followed, Quatre continued to deteriorate. The weight he'd put on thanks to the hearty meals he'd eaten in the last three years melted away as his body cannibalized itself, starved for nutrients. Trowa and Wufei forced water down his throat and when he vomited it back up, they forced down more. On the fourth day, his skin was the colour of corncobs and blotchy with bloody bruises. It seemed even the most gentlest of touches would cause him to bruise. He'd vomited up all of his stomach acid and bile days ago, the strenuous heaving rupturing delicate blood vessels. The only thing left for him to vomit was the blood that filled his stomach cavity. When his fever spiked in the evenings, they dipped his body into the chilled sea water, their hearts hurting from the screams of pain as he was moved and then submersed in forty degree water. But it did the trick every time. He slept in small bursts, vomited, and slept again. Trowa and Wufei dozed during the quiet moments and worked tirelessly to nurse the boy back to health. Quatre's sickness gave Wufei a glimpse into what Trowa would have been like if hadn't had such a hard life and essentially what Wufei himself would have been like. They'd both been living for far too long depending on the survival of the fittest that they'd almost forgotten what it meant to be human. In a way, it was a gift. He had the privilege to observe his captain as someone who was soft, caring, and tender. Taking care of Quatre had gotten them both back in touch with their humanity and maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. On the seventh day, he sat slouched in the chair by the wardrobe, his eyes half-lidded with exhaustion, and watched his captain doze on the bed. Trowa's face was lined and pale with stress, but soft as he got a brief reprieve. In his arms laid Quatre who was also sleeping at the moment. So far, they'd been able to keep him alive and it seemed as though they may have turned the curve. Quatre had not vomited in several hours and his temperature remained stable. He wasn't out of the woods yet, but Wufei felt an inkling of hope for the first time in a week. It wasn't unheard of for the sick person to appear to be improving, only to take a turn for the worse and wind up dying a few days later. Wufei was cautiously optimistic, but it would be several more days before he could be sure the boy was really recovering. Miraculously, Trowa still showed no signs of the disease and Wufei allowed himself to relax a little. The captain was exhausted, but not sick. In most cases, the exposed would have already begun showing symptoms. If another week went by without Trowa showing any signs of sickness, Wufei would be able to clear him. It was a grueling time for him, having to change clothes and wash every time he left the cabin. The constant cleaning and scrubbing he had to do himself to prevent the spread of the disease as he was the only one with known immunity. For extra precautions, he ordered the rest of the crew to keep a solid twenty five meter perimeter away from the captain's cabin. Everything that Quatre and Trowa had come into contact with on that first day that couldn't be washed was thrown overboard. If he managed to succeed in his endeavor, he would retire to his bunker at the end of the two weeks and sleep for a solid month. Despite the odds, Quatre's condition improved. He had yet to regain consciousness, but the fever finally began to subside by the tenth day. The yellowing of his skin and the nasty purple bruises began to fade and resemble more of his natural colour. The vomiting had ceased and he was holding water and broth down. His breathing, which had been shallow and laborious at the worst of the illness, was much stronger and steady and he slept longer and deeper the more he healed. Early on the thirteenth day, Trowa woke, slowly at first, his subconscious mind registering a soft hand stroking his cheek. He pried sticky eyelids open and blinked at the most beautiful pair of blue eyes gazing tiredly at him. Trowa could see the still slightly yellow whites of his eyes, but they were clear, cognizant for the first time in two weeks. Awareness slammed down on top of him in an instant and he jerked his head off the pillow in surprise, his hands reaching out to cup the gaunt face of his catamite. Quatre smiled up at him and Trowa could have wept with relief. His mouth trembled as he pressed kisses all over the boy's face, murmuring declarations of love and admonishment against Quatre's skin. "Oh, Mother Mary. You're alright. You're alright. You scared the life out of me," he said, kissing the boy's eyelids, the tip of his nose, his forehead, chin, and cheeks. "I thought I'd lost you. Don't you ever do that to me again." Quatre's hands, weak from the sickness and lack of solid food, trembled as they clutched Trowa's forearms. He smiled and endured the attention, nodding slightly at the gentle berating. "I'm so sorry, Trowa. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." His voice was a bit croaky from misuse and he winced a little at how pathetic he sounded. Trowa did weep then at the sound of his catamite's voice. Something he wasn't sure he'd ever hear again. It was like the sweetest music, like harps descending from Heaven and he buried his face in the boy's neck and unleashed the tsunami of emotions that had built up over the past two weeks. He let go of the paralyzing fear, the frustration, the exhaustion, and the hopelessness. Quatre summoned enough strength to stroke the back of Trowa's head, trying to comfort him as tears dripped onto his collar bone. That was how Wufei found them. Quatre's eyes flitted over to the man as the door swung open and he smiled guiltily when the First Mate stepped in, looking almost as haggard as Trowa did. Wufei fixed the boy with a mock stern look and fisted his hands on his hips. "It's about time. So nice of you to join the land of the living again." Quatre's cheeks flushed, feeling bad, but appreciating Wufei's attempts to lighten up the atmosphere. He chuckled weakly and shook his head. "How long have I been out?" "Thirteen days," Trowa mumbled into his neck. Quatre gave a bit of a start at that. "Oh, Allah. I'm so sorry. I had no idea." He'd had no awareness, no concept of time, only bits and pieces of disorientation and agony. Wufei shook his head in amazement. "And Trowa, the big, dumb fool, never left your side the entire time. Not that I allowed it. I had you both quarantined in here the whole time so as not to expose the whole ship. I was certain he was going to come down with it as well, but he is healthy as a horse." He cocked his head at his friend. "Are you sure you've never had it?" Trowa lifted his head up and shot Wufei a wry look. "I think I would have known if I'd had it. I've never had much more than a cold." Quatre grinned and caressed his cheek. "Strong as an ox." "And just as stubborn," said Wufei. "Well, it looks as though you're both in the clear now, though I'd recommend you staying in here for one more day." He gave them his most stern expression and Quatre tried not to laugh as he looked like a scolding father. "Trowa, continue giving him the broth and water for a few more days until I'm sure it's safe for him to eat solid food. His stomach still needs to heal and I'm not going to have him tearing it open and bleeding out because he put something too heavy in there too soon. In three, or four days, we'll start with something a little more solid. Bread with no crusts and cooked potatoes. We have to work him back up to a healthy diet very slowly. Understood?" Trowa's mouth curled up slightly. "Aye, Captain Chang." Wufei scoffed and Quatre did laugh then. "Don't even jest about that, Barton. You two have given me enough frights in the last two weeks than I've had in years." "Oh, Fei. You'd make a fine captain." Wufei lifted his chin. "You are the captain and it damned well better remain that way for a long time. I harbor no fantasies about taking your place." Trowa's expression softened as he smiled at his friend. "I really am sorry, Wufei. And I appreciate everything you've done for him, for us. You truly are a wonderful friend and I don't know how I'll ever repay you." "Neither do I," Quatre murmured. "You can repay me by not getting sick again," Wufei sniffed. "Remember what I said. Quatre, you are to remain in this bed until you are steadily holding down solid food. I'm not going to have you overcome because you didn't follow my orders." "I'll stay here." "Good. I will let you know when I feel comfortable enough to let you up and about. And Trowa, you eat, then sleep. I'm going to do the same. I'll return this afternoon to check on you both. Are we clear on this?" "Aye, Sir." Both captain and catamite ticked their fingers against their brows in a salute. Wufei waved a hand and shook his head as he reached for the door. His grumbles reached their ears as he left the cabin. "Stupid lovesick fools. You're worse than children."
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