"Always the Bridesmaid, Never the Bride"

Written By: The Plotting Housewife

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sotsu and associated Parties. This work is written for pleasure not profit.

Rating: R

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Self-Indulgent Authoress, Quatre-Centric, Angst Fest, Implied Oral Sex, Gay Strip Clubs, Masturbation, Post-Endless Waltz

Pairings: 1x2, 3x4, 5xS, 3xOC, 6x9, RxOC, DxOC

Summary: Quatre receives his invitation to Duo and Heero's wedding. He knows Trowa will be there, but he doesn't know if he can handle seeing the love of his life with someone else.

"Always the Bridesmaid, Never the Bride "

Quatre set the wedding invitation aside and leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. It was a tastefully simple invitation of white, textured paper, with a soft, torn border around the edge. Gracefully written in elegant swooping letters, announced the upcoming nuptials of his two closest friends, though to Quatre, it was a blaring reminder of his pathetically vacant love life.

He chewed on his lip, mentally kicking himself for his petulance. His two best friends were getting married. This was cause for celebration. He swallowed down his envy and tried his damnedest to ignore the vicious little voice in the back of his head that told him it would be a dreadful experience. He would go, of course he would, though he'd have to carve out a decent niche in his schedule that currently didn't exist. Apparently Duo knew him too well because he saw fit to scribble a message beneath the beautiful calligraphy in his familiar, messy scrawl.

'And your ass better be on time, Mister CEO. You're my Best Man.'

Quatre laughed under his breath at the pithy lecture. Honestly, it really wasn't his fault that no one seemed capable of leaving him alone for five minutes. If someone didn't need something from him, they were busy trying to make sure he didn't screw up. When he wasn't being treated like an incompetent child, he was treated as a commodity. 'Give me this, give me that' was a constant daily mantra. If people weren't out for a piece of his soul, they were out to see him fall.

It wasn't that he wasn't overjoyed for Duo and Heero. He really was and he wanted to see them happy. They brought out the best in each other and even when some people said they'd never last, he knew, deep within his heart, that they would. Despite being complete polar opposites, they somehow managed to harmonize those differences. They complimented each other in a way no one else could. They fit together like Yin and Yang. This union couldn't have happened to a more deserving couple.

The problem was, Quatre had been one half of a union that everyone said would last. And Quatre believed that with everything he was. Yet, it seemed he was the only one left out in the dark now. How many weddings had he attended? Far too many to keep track of, that was for sure. He had numerous photos of himself, smiling, in one wedding party after another, sharing in the joy of love, devotion, and commitment, while his own heart withered and died inside his chest.

Perhaps it would have been better if he'd never fought so valiantly for Trowa's love, but it wasn't as if he could help it. No one could make his body melt, or his heart soar like Trowa could. He was still, even to this day, so painfully, desperately, and pitifully in love with the man, despite Trowa leaving him for someone else five years ago.

Maybe it would have been better to have had more of an explanation besides, "I've just moved on. I'm sorry." Or, maybe it didn't matter. The end result was the same, everything else was a technicality. That was pretty much what life for Quatre had been like since. Just one technical occurrence after another. He didn't live, not for himself anyway. He existed solely to provide goods and services to the public. A living wallet of flesh, blood, and bone. Quatre tried not to think too much about it, but damn it, it was hard when he finally called it a night and dragged himself back to his studio apartment in the wee hours of the morning to grab a few hours of peace before he was needed again.

That peace, while definitely welcome, was also a curse. It was when his mind was the loudest, when his own personal needs decided it was time to speak up. It was the only time he paid it any heed. It wasn't something he enjoyed facing. The shambled reality of his life. The cold, aching loneliness. The notion that he could have a relationship, even get married, barely crossed his mind. It wasn't as if he wasn't pursued. He was, quite frankly, highly sought after, even if only for his appearance, money, and status. He supposed he could settle and try to pick up the pieces with whomever he thought would best do the job. Certainly, plenty of people before him had done the same. But, that just wasn't who Quatre was. He couldn't imagine engaging in a commitment with someone he didn't love. Even if the other person didn't love him back. It just wouldn't be fair to either of them, no matter how many different ways he, or anyone else, tried to rationalize it. What kind of relationship would that be? No, alone was better. That way he could guarantee that the only person who was hurting, was himself.

The only way it could ever work would be through his ability to get over him. And that was something he had not yet been able to do.

It had been five years now since Trowa broke the news to him over the phone. The heartache that should have hurt less with time, didn't. Instead, the gaping void only seemed to grow. The few hours he had to himself at night were the only time he allowed himself to indulge in the bitterness that seemed to envelope him like a black cloak. When he was finally alone, he couldn't be criticized for falling apart. Where there weren't prying eyes constantly waiting for a moment of weakness so that they could run to the papers with the shocking stories of the CEO of WEI actually being human. As if the idea were preposterous.

Oh, but it hurt. It hurt so damn bad. It hurt that he wasn't allowed to hurt. With every passing day, he felt another piece of himself break off and die and he was powerless to stop it. In his apartment for the night, he'd kick his shoes off, curl up in the corner of his sofa, and try to find the will within himself to continue. When the exhaustion became too much, he'd pop a Valium to quiet his turbulent mind and settle down for a bit of restless sleep, only to begin the routine again the next day. At this point, he was running on autopilot, his fuel line kinked and running dry. Everything was measured, mechanical. It was the best he could do and by now, it was familiar, a comfort in itself.

It was the only thing that got him up in the morning. The fact that he was needed, or least that's what he told himself. WEI didn't really need him. It could do with any capable executive. He just happened to be filling that spot currently. Somehow, he managed to convince himself that it was enough, but deep down, he knew, somewhere along the way, he'd lost himself. He simply didn't know who, or what he was anymore.

Would Trowa be at the wedding? Probably. The last time Quatre saw him was at Wufei and Sally's wedding. Thankfully, Trowa had brought his sister along since his...boyfriend - Quatre cringed to even think of him that way - was away at some conference, or another. Quatre highly doubted he'd be so lucky a second time. He'd met the boyfriend once before, at Relena's wedding. The guy was nice enough and, Quatre didn't fail to notice, nothing like him. Tobias was tall, athletic, much like Trowa was. He'd been taken in by the circus, also like Trowa. Both of them were exceptional acrobats. Trowa's sister, Catherine, introduced them and evidently, they'd hit it off quite well while Trowa took a six month stint to travel with the troupe.

Quatre laughed bitterly. He'd been expecting Trowa's return in a few days when the call came. He was sorry, he still loved Quatre, but he'd met someone that both he and Cathy thought would be a better match for him. Blah, blah, blah, Quatre didn't hear much after the first few sentences through the buzzing in his ears and the sickly churn of his stomach.

Why Cathy had to be involved in Trowa's romantic life was beyond him. But, Trowa deferred to her quite often so he supposed he shouldn't have been too shocked by the revelation. He thought he'd gotten along quite well with her. He liked her a lot, thought she was sweet and fun, but it seemed she hadn't felt the same about him. The news had been such a blow, leaving him breathless; invisible footprints embedded in his abdomen. Cathy didn't think he was good enough and apparently, Trowa agreed.

From there, his life just fell apart. The media objectification of him, the criticism, the dehumanizing perception people had of him, had been tolerable when he'd had Trowa by his side. Now, with no one to hold him up and tell him he was strong, you can do this, his spirit began to deflate. His support structure broken beyond repair, he collapsed under the weight of his own grief. He felt like a black hole, turning himself inside out. Everything little aspect of the person he was, sucked into a vortex of despair with no chance of escape.

He picked up the invitation again. Three weeks. He had three weeks to open up his schedule and try to pull himself together for the sake of his friends. Just the thought of it was exhausting, but he had no choice. Heero and Duo deserved that much. They deserved even more and Quatre was determined not to ruin their special day with his moping. He would need to call Duo in the evening to go over the details. Figure out a way to barricade his heart, what was left of it, in preparation of facing Trowa and likely, his boyfriend.

He'd barely managed to get through Relena's wedding, plastering on smiles so fake, he feared people would see right through them. If anyone did, they thankfully kept it to themselves. He'd downed one glass of expensive champagne after another and was literally stitched to Duo's side for the entire night. Heero was understanding, gave them space, though he was also deeply concerned about Quatre's well-being. He checked on him often and let Quatre know he was there if he was needed. Quatre had gone home with them that night, Duo insisting that he didn't want to leave him alone in a hotel room. Quatre did the whole, "I don't want to be a burden," song and dance, but inside, he'd been eternally grateful. He'd spent the night at their home, gotten completely wasted, alternated sobbing on first Duo's, then Heero's shoulder, puked, then passed out on the floor of the bathroom.

He'd woken up that morning in the guest room with a monstrous headache. His heart and his stomach feeling like he'd been carved out like a Jack-O-Lantern on Halloween, and with little memory of the night before, though he was almost certain he'd made an absolute fool of himself. Duo had been considerate enough to leave a bottle of water and a few aspirin on the night table and Quatre swallowed them down, his dehydration causing him to take great gulps of the water, soothing his parched throat. He'd shuffled into the kitchen, blushing in embarrassment, and profusely apologized for any inconvenience he'd caused.

Heero and Duo waved off the apologies, insisting with sympathy in their eyes, that he was their friend, it was no trouble. They didn't offer any more than the assurance that they were there when he needed them and left it at that. And that was what Quatre loved the most about them. They were there for him, but they were not going to make him uncomfortable by talking about something that pained him unless he wanted to talk about it.

A knock at the door startled him out of his thoughts. He tucked the invitation into the breast pocket of his suit jacket, pushing his own problems to the back burner with some effort. No one had time for that.

"Come in."

"Sir, they're ready."

Quatre nodded at his assistant and rose from his chair. There was work to do. The representatives for the Earth Sphere Mining Company were waiting for him and they had no need, or interest in Quatre's desolate personal life. He checked his appearance in the mirror across from his desk, taking note of the dark circles under his eyes. Nothing that could be done about that. He brushed his fingers though his hair and tried to make himself as presentable as possible.

He left his office and began the trek down the long hallway to the conference room, wishing, not for the first time, that he could just turn tail and leave. Just leave it all behind and never look back.

---

It was two thirty in the morning before he finally forced himself to call it quits for the night. Fatigue weighed his limbs down as he trudged through the empty building towards the elevators, nodding to the custodian as they passed each other. He stared absently at the wall of the lift as it descended the seventeen stories to the ground floor, his mind spinning in endless circles.

He'd been planning on calling Duo after work, but considering it was only five in the morning in California, he'd have to wait if he didn't want to unleash the wrath of a Duo disturbed from his "beauty sleep". Besides, he was just too damn tired to deal with any of it at the moment anyway. Luckily, it was Friday and while Quatre would likely have to take some calls, he didn't need to be in the office again until Monday morning. That left the weekend open for him to regroup and get his shit together.

He walked out of the building, the warm, climate-controlled air of L4 hitting him in the face, striking after hours in the air conditioning. His car waited right out front and the chauffeur bowed slightly and tipped his hat before pulling the door open for him. Quatre sunk down with a heavy sigh, pulling his briefcase across his lap to set it on the seat beside him. Not interested in any small talk tonight, he pressed the button to raise the divider between the front and back seats and leaned his head back onto the head rest, eyelids droopy.

He felt like he was a hundred years old, despite being only twenty five. Bone-weary and exhausted, he felt like he could sleep for a century. He watched the lights of L4's largest city pass by the window of the car as it drove to his apartment and his thoughts turned to Trowa despite his heart begging them not to.

Perhaps they'd simply been too young, too fresh out of the war for it to work. Quatre had been thrust into his family's business at sixteen, despite knowing that he was never fit for the position. He had the intelligence, the stamina, but not the heart for it. Quatre was so vastly different from his father, much to the latter's dismay. Offices, meetings, and conferences only served to destroy the restless and adventurous spirit within him. It deadened him in a way that fighting in two wars had never done. At least, when he'd been fighting, he'd felt alive, felt like he was accomplishing something. He craved stimulation that the position of CEO could never satisfy. When it came right down to it, this job was killing him.

Despite the grueling schedule and long hours, Quatre did all he could possibly do to spend time with Trowa and make their relationship work. He thought he'd done a fairly decent job, making time for dates and intimacy that he often lost sleep over in order to make up for the work he missed. Still, it was doable because he'd had someone he loved by his side. Trowa had been worth it. The kisses, the touches, the shared sentiments, the annual two week trips, the quiet moments, it was all worth it. Quatre always went out of his way to make sure Trowa felt loved and attended to.

Of course, Trowa had had his own obligations, namely the circus, and Cathy. The troupe traveled throughout the Earth Sphere and the colonies six months out of every year and Trowa was loyal to a fault. Quatre would often take a day, or two off from work to visit with them while they traveled, marveling at the exquisite performances. Then, the couple would retire for a cozy night in Trowa's trailer, whispering sweet nothings to each other and making love in soft, warm candlelight. They were such brief, but carefree times in Quatre's life and he cherished them, even now. They didn't talk about work, or war. They would instead make plans for their future, talk of finally settling down, getting married, buying a house somewhere, maybe near the water. Trowa would talk about building an animal sanctuary on the property and would ramble on about the care of different types of animals while Quatre listened, contentedly sleepy, his head resting on Trowa's chest.

So, what had happened? Everything seemed fine when Trowa left that Tuesday afternoon, five years ago. They'd made love that morning, the firm, determined thrust of Trowa's hips a promise that he'd return, that everything was good, that Quatre was loved. Six months later, the call came that shattered his life, his heart, everything he was. That he was dismissed so easily was such a bitter pill to swallow and so profound, he was still choking on it.

A soft rap of knuckles on his window made him jump. He was home. He didn't even notice the car coming to a stop outside his apartment building, so immersed in his memories. He swiped his briefcase from the seat and stepped out when his driver opened the door. The doorman greeted him cordially as Quatre stepped inside the lobby. There was a tall fountain in the center of the large receiving area and the sound of rushing water was soothing to Quatre's frazzled mind.

He nodded to the elevator attendant and he tried not to show his weariness until the elevator doors closed, sealing him off from any human contact. He sagged then, shoulders slumping under the weight of the world. He forced himself not to think and his stomach lurched as the lift began its ascent, remembering that he hadn't eaten anything since early that morning.

There was a muted ding and the doors slid open, revealing a warmly lit, but thankfully empty hallway. With great mental effort, he got his legs working and dragged himself down the hall until he reached his door. He swiped his key card, waited for the red light to flash green, and let himself in, turning the deadbolt, and sliding the chain lock in place. Dropping his briefcase onto the chair by the door, he flicked the light switch, the lamps flickering on, illuminating his small apartment. His small, empty apartment. Oh, how he missed seeing Trowa when he came home, whether he was still up, greeting Quatre with a drink in hand, or sleeping soundly in their bed, the blankets tangled around his long, lean legs.

He realized he should probably eat, but he just couldn't manage that much right now. Instead, he went to the bar after kicking his shoes off and poured himself a vodka on the rocks. Shuffling over to the sofa, he pulled off his jacket, slinging it over the arm, loosened his tie, and sunk down, feeling as though he weighed a thousand pounds. He curled his legs beneath him and leaned his head on his hand, nursing the drink in his other, and just sat in the silence, both relishing, and dreading it.

He thought back to that phone call, the night his life changed forever. Quatre had stuttered, confused, not sure he'd heard Trowa correctly. Even for months afterward, he'd been so deep in denial, positive that Trowa would come back any moment, flowers in his arms, and apologies on his lips. I'm so sorry, Quatre. I've been such a fool. I love you. I love you so much. Please forgive me. Won't you take me back? It was a regularly occurring fantasy that he'd entertain during his darkest hours. He was so sure Trowa would realize his mistake. Surely, he could see how much they loved each other. After everything they'd been through, all they'd fought for, Trowa had to see that they were meant to be.

But, despite Quatre leaving a candle lit for him, for their love, Trowa never came back. As time went on, he became more and more despondent, the heavy press of loss like the weight of an anvil on his chest. Not just left behind, but betrayed, dismissed, an afterthought. Trowa found someone better, and it was tearing Quatre apart.

His throat swelled and his eyes stung. The pain inside so deep, it hurt to breathe. He blinked rapidly, in a flimsy attempt to keep the tears at bay, but it was no use. They filled his eyes and crested over his lids, sliding down his cheeks. He choked on a wave of agony, trying to suppress the increasing tsunami of emotion. The dam was boiling over and Quatre was quickly losing control. How was he supposed to face Trowa again? How was he supposed to smile and pretend to be happy while he witnessed the most important person in his life give his love, his heart to someone else? To watch them hold hands, put their arms around each other, dance, kiss...

His levy breached and he was knocked senseless by the images in his mind's eye, torturing him with all he'd lost. He hunched over, choking on a sob, his drink dropping to the floor, spilling onto the carpet. He sucked in a deep, painful breath, and it escaped from his lips a moment later in a keening wail. The onslaught was harsh and unstoppable. How hadn't he been drained of tears by now? How did the pain get worse with time instead of better?

He cried for a long time. He cried for what felt like hours, days, weeks. He cried until he just couldn't anymore, feeling like his insides had died and were rotting away within him. Utterly spent, he leaned his head onto the arm of the couch and tried to get his bearings, sniffling and hiccuping every so often. He just couldn't take anymore tonight. His eyes closed, lids feeling like sandpaper in his pounding head, and drifted off into troubled sleep, too exhausted to do anything else.

---

He woke when bright sunlight streamed in from the large windows along the wall and cracked open crusty eyelids. He groaned as he lifted his head, a nasty headache beating a nauseating percussion in his temples. He also had a crick in his neck that shot a lighting bolt of pain down his shoulder blade. He cringed as he struggled off the couch and padded to the bathroom in search of water and pain killers, making a mental note to clean the vodka out of his carpet later.

He flicked the light in the bathroom on and nearly gasped at his appearance. He looked forty years old. His skin was ghastly pale, though his cheeks and eyes were red; a result of the broken capillaries from the strenuous sobbing he'd subjected himself to. Broken was right. That was exactly what he was. He gingerly touched the puffy skin around his eyes and huffed out an agitated breath. When had he become so goddamn pathetic?

Pulling the door of the medicine cabinet open, he swiped a bottle of pain medication and dumped double the recommended amount into his palm. He popped them into his mouth along with a Valium, noting that his stomach would probably not be happy with him for the excess amount of drugs and no food. Too tired and too in pain to care, he filled the glass from the sink with water and swallowed the pills down, finishing off the remaining water. It felt cool and soothing against his aching throat. He set the glass down and left the bathroom, heading right for his bedroom. He had only enough energy to pull his clothing off, slipping under the covers in nothing but his boxer shorts and burrowed beneath the blankets, finally feeling a little safe, if still dreadfully alone.

He watched the light shift behind the closed slats of his bedroom window and waited for the medication to do its job. He could feel the slight nausea as his stomach rebelled against him, but soon, the grogginess overpowered the sourness in his belly. His eyelids drooped and he nuzzled into his pillow, vaguely imagining Trowa there, in the bed with him, his powerful arm draped across his side. Too tired to feel ridiculous about it, he drifted off into a mercifully dreamless sleep.

---

"Yo, Kitty-Quat, what up?"

Duo was eating chips, or some other such crunchy food in Quatre's ear as Quatre held the phone between his cheek and shoulder. He chuckled at the nickname as he meandered around the kitchen, prepping the coffee pot. The smell of the fresh-ground Arabic beans smelled like Heaven and Quatre almost moaned though the phone at the prospect of rich, hot java.

"How are you, Duo?"

Duo pretended to be dubious. "I'm alright. Nothin' much going on...Oh, wait, didn't you hear? I'm getting hitched!"

Quatre laughed, despite his horrid mood. Duo was always a ray of sunshine in Quatre's endless bleak days. "Yes, I know! Congratulations! I'm so, so happy for you guys."

"Hey, lucky for Heero for finally putting a ring on it, if you know what I'm sayin'. Now, he won't have to worry about me getting whisked off by some rodeo stud."

Quatre snorted as he poured water into the reservoir. "I highly doubt you would have left Heero for some "rodeo stud", or any other stud for that matter, even if he hadn't put a ring on it." He spooned coffee grounds into the filter and pressed the "on" button. He plopped down on a stool, smiling at Duo's cheerful banter.

"Meh, a little insurance wouldn't hurt, you know? So, when are you coming out to Cali?"

Quatre made sure he'd had his schedule rearranged before calling Duo. "I'll be out there the day before the wedding and I'll have to leave the day after. It's the best I can do."

Duo sounded put out. "What, you're not going to throw me a bridal shower?"

"Duo...seriously?"

"Oh, alright. But what about tux fittings? Cake tastings? Bachelor party?"

"You're going to have a bachelor party?" Quatre groaned and dropped his head on the counter. "Ugh, Duo, why?"

"Hey, why not? It'll be my last day of singledom. Gotta go out with a blast, right? Besides, I'm sure you could benefit from a little poontang, if you know what I mean..."

"Good God, Duo, can you not?!" Quatre flushed.

"What?"

"No, I'm not going to benefit from any "poo-tang" as you put it. Please don't put me through that."

"Sorry, buddy. You, me, and the hottest nekkid dudes in LA. You'll go if I have to duct tape you to the stage."

"Ugh, fine. If I must, but if you subject me to any lap dances, you'll be dead to me." Quatre poured coffee into a mug and took a sip, the piping hot liquid scalding his lips and tongue, but oh, it tasted like life and love and everything right with the world.

"Aw, c'mon -"

"Duo."

He heaved a sigh. "Oh, fine. No fun for you then. Such a party pooper. You're turning into Hee-chan."

Quatre chuckled, leaning against the counter, blowing on his drink. "I'm going to tell him you said that."

"I'll deny it. Oh, what about the tux, though?"

"I'll send you my measurements. Is that okay? I tried, Duo, but I really can't get out there any sooner. I'm sorry."

"Don't work yourself into a fit now, blondie. It's all good. That'll work fine."

"Okay, good. I'll see you real soon then."

"Yep. Can't wait to see you."

"Neither can I." And Quatre meant it. Even if the wedding itself would be difficult, seeing Duo and Heero again would be worth it.

"Oh, and hey, Quat?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you...okay?"

Quatre blew out a breath, not willing to get into it over the phone and certainly not before, or especially during Duo's wedding. "I'm fine."

Duo wasn't convinced. "Are you okay with Trowa being invited?"

No. "Yeah, I'll get through it. He's your friend, too. Our problems are not yours."

"I didn't want to invite him, but Heero insisted. I'm sorry, I can't imagine how hard -"

"It's fine, Duo, really. I'll be fine."

"You sure?"

No. "Yes! Duo, relax. Don't worry about it. This is your day, okay? You worry about you and that wonderful man you're going to call "husband" in a few weeks. I'm a big boy. I can manage." Though, in all honesty, he highly doubted he could, but Duo didn't need to know that and he certainly didn't need to stress over it.

"Okaaay...if you're absolutely sure. Just so you know, you have my explicit permission to get drunk and kick him in the nuts at the reception."

Quatre doubled over laughing. When he finally had enough air to speak again, he said, "I have to get drunk first?"

"Well...no, but at least you'd have an excuse."

"I think I already have an excuse, but I appreciate the offer."

Duo snickered. "Alright, buddy. Drunk, or sober, I don't care. And yes, you do have an excuse. Okay, I'll see you soon. Take care."

Quatre smiled warmly. "I will. You, too."

He hung up and crossed the kitchen to open a window. The warm breeze filtered in with the sound of birds singing and Quatre just stood there for a while, breathing in fresh air, trying to clear his mind. And he prayed. He prayed for the strength to get him through this.

---

The shuttle port was busy, noisy, and dirty and Quatre was suddenly reminded why he preferred to take his own transport when he traveled to Earth. He kicked away a littered food wrapper as he stepped forward in line to buy his ticket. Nearby, a toddler screamed and Quatre closed his eyes, fighting the urge to lash out. Breathing deep through his nose, a trick Trowa had taught him, he bitterly reminded himself, he was jolted when a hand shoved at his shoulder from behind. A gruff voice barked, "Hey, buddy. The line's movin'." Quatre sighed and moved up, hating his entire existence.

Thankfully, he was able to snag a first class seat on the shuttle. Settling down in the comfortable chair, he gratefully accepted a hot towel. He leaned back, draped the towel over his eyes, and let his mind drift.

Despite the noise of the other passengers, and the occasional lurch of the transport, he slept the whole way to California.

When he landed, he felt surprisingly well-rested as he surveyed the port in search of Duo who was picking him up. He'd insisted Quatre stay with them, but Quatre had politely declined. This was their wedding. They didn't need him skulking around the house, getting in the way. He booked a room at a hotel near the venue where the reception would take place.

"Hey, Quat! Over here. Quatre!"

Quatre turned to see an arm waving among the bobbing heads. A moment later, Duo's head popped up above the crowd as he jumped up and down, braid swinging back and forth behind him. Quatre smiled and waved, maneuvering himself through the intersecting foot traffic.

Duo elbowed his way over and the two came face to face for the first time in over a year. They grinned at each other and embraced. Duo pulled Quatre off his feet and swung him around, a little concerned at how light his friend was, but ecstatic to be able to see and hug him after all this time. Quatre laughed, delighted for the first time in he didn't know how long.

"Duo! Duo, put me d - Oh! Sorry!" He cringed as his swinging legs collided with a few passersby, earning the two of them more than a few glares.

"Shit, sorry. My bad." Duo set him back down, grinning sheepishly at the irritated patrons as he scratched the back of his neck. He turned his attention back to the blond. "God, it's great to see you! It's been too damn long."

Quatre shouldered his bag, smiling at his friend. "It's great to see you, too. We shouldn't have waited so long to meet up."

Duo grabbed the bag. "You don't look fit to carry a Q-Tip. Gimme that." He looped the straps over his own shoulders and grasped Quatre's elbow. "Damn, boy, do you eat? You look positively skeletal."

"Excuse me? I eat." Very little, but whatever.

"We need to get some meat on your bones. C'mon, I know a great burger joint nearby. Best burgers and beer in town."

"You won't be satisfied until I gain twenty pounds in the next three days."

"Damn straight." They headed out into the parking lot, the warm, sea air refreshing and invigorating to Quatre's senses. Seagulls flew overhead, scouting for discarded food. Quatre found he'd missed the familiar sounds of the gulls that were nonexistent on the colonies. They were some of his most precious memories with Trowa, laying on the beach, listening to the sounds of the seagulls as they swooped through the sky, looking for fish. Those times when the sun would lower on the horizon, setting the sky on fire in hues of yellow, orange, and red as the stars began to sparkle in the east. He'd cherished the slide of skin, cooled from the ocean, gritty with sand as their legs entwined. If they were lucky enough to snag a secluded spot, they sometimes made love with the roaring sound of ocean waves drowning out their cries of ecstasy. Quatre shivered, lump forming in his throat.

Duo, always in tune to his friend, wrapped an arm around his shoulders as the two walked the short distance to where Duo's pickup was parked. "We've got a lot of catching up to do and only a day and a half to do it. You up for the challenge?" His attempt to cheer the blond worked.

Quatre's mouth quirked. "Always."

Duo stuck his key into the lock of the passenger side door and pulled on the handle. It swung open with an ear-piercing screech. He made a sweeping gesture with his hand. "Your chariot, my good sir."

Quatre laughed and reached up to grab the lift handle, hoisting himself up into the truck. The seats were vinyl and heated by the sun, with a few cracks here and there, the foam stuffing peeking out. A huge pair of pink, fuzzy dice hung from the rear view mirror. At Quatre's raised eyebrow, Duo grinned. "Birthday gift from Relena." Quatre nodded. Of course. He still had the bright pink beer and wine cozies she'd gotten him for his own birthday.

Duo fired up the truck and the engine roared loudly. He leaned over, raising his voice so he could be heard. "Get ready for the night of your life, Q-bean." Quatre snickered, though he winced on the inside, not even sure he wanted to know what Duo was up to. He only hoped Heero didn't have to spend his wedding day bailing them both out of jail.

---

"Honestly, Kitty-Quat. You really need to learn to loosen up. You're too young to be this tense all the time." Duo observed as he swirled a mug of Bud Light in his hand. He uncurled a finger and pointed it at the blond. "You also need to eat. You're skin and bones. Hell, look at me," he gestured to himself, to his empty plate, then to Quatre's half-eaten burger and fries. "What kind of role model am I if you don't emulate what I do?" He seemed almost genuinely offended by this.

Quatre snickered. "Since when are you a role-model?"

"I'll have you know that a lot of people look up to me."

The blond laughed. "Okay, I believe you."

The burger joint was a rather run-down dive of a place. Noisy, with beer-guzzling men, and loud classic rock blaring over speakers he couldn't see. Waitresses in crop tops and short shorts, experts in evasive maneuvers, dipped and dove between the tables, trays in hand, as they avoided the groping hands of the more aggressive customers. Surprisingly, the food was really good and Quatre had eaten more than he thought he would, despite not actually being all that hungry.

He took a sip of his own beer, peering at Duo over the rim of his glass. "You're not actually going to make me go to a strip bar, are you?" Quatre had never been to one. They didn't even exist on L4 due to the high Muslim population. He was actually terrified of it, more so because he didn't want to be recognized and have his face splashed all over the tabloids with some catchy, but vulgar caption about how he was some sort of closet pervert.

"Mmmhmmm..." Duo mumbled through a mouthful of beer. "You're darn tootin'. You need to live a little, my man."

"Duo, I appreciate the sentiment of trying to get me out for a little fun, but I really don't want the press to find out."

The braided man waved his hand dismissively. "No worries, Q-man. This place is very discreet."

Somehow, that didn't ease his anxiety. "Wonderful."

Duo banged his fist down on the table, then pressed his index finger into it, leaning forward into Quatre's space. "You need to live. You need to get out and have some fun. Take some chances. You need to...you need to start down that road of healing so you can get over him."

Quatre blanched, not ready for this discussion. "I don't think a strip club is going to help me get over Trowa."

"No," Duo shook his head. "But it's the start of you actually having a life and having a life will get you out and doing things that you enjoy which will help take your mind off of him, which, with time, will help...will help..."

"Me get over him?"

"Yes!" Duo leaned back, eyes wide, and thumped the table again with finality. "That's right." He drank some more beer and swallowed down a belch.

Quatre raised a brow. "Are you going to be able to drive?"

Duo looked offended. "Of course! I'm not even buzzed. Hey, chill, okay? I got this."

"Okay," Quatre signaled the waitress to bring the check and reached for his wallet. Duo slapped his hand.

"No, I said I got this."

"Duo, no. You're not paying for me -"

"Quat?"

"What?"

"Shut up."

Quatre rolled his eyes and pocketed his wallet. Fine. "Fine."

"Good," Duo nodded and dropped several bills down onto the check and reached for his jacket that was slung over the back of his chair. "C'mon. Hee-chan is waiting for us."

Quatre stood, a little woozy from the beer, and followed his friend out, ignoring the blatant pinch to his ass as he passed by a particularly rowdy table.

He sighed. That was the most action he'd gotten in close to three years. How pathetic was that?

---

Heero smiled warmly as he embraced Quatre in a firm hug. Quatre found himself touched to see the normally stoic Heero actually grinning, and not in the 'I'm-going-to-vaporize-you-and-enjoy-the-shit-out-of-it' kind of way. Heero pulled back, but held onto Quatre's arms to get a good look at him. Quatre knew with certainty that nothing got past Heero and he didn't miss the flash of worry on his face as he took stock of the exhaustion behind the blond's eyes, the ever-present sadness. He placed a warm palm against Quatre's cheek and Quatre almost cried at the waves of affection directed at him. How long had it been since someone had really looked at him and saw what was behind the surface? How long since someone had actually seen him? The person he really was and not the pretty face that graced the pages of the most high-end fashion magazines as one of the Earth Sphere's most beautiful and influential people. Not the politician, or the CEO with loads of money and resources. How long since someone had touched him with such tenderness?

There were only a handful of people who actually cared to know the real Quatre and with the exception of Trowa, no one knew him better than Heero and Duo. He felt, for the first time in over a year, like he was cared about, and dare he say it? Loved. His heart ached in his chest as Heero's brows rose in concern, tears beginning to blur his vision. There was sadness, yes, but there was also joy. Joy at being around people he actually felt safe with. A whimper bubbled up between his lips, despite his attempts to hold it back and Heero grasped the back of his head, pulling it down onto his firm shoulder. The gesture was just enough to allow Quatre to let go and even though he'd made a promise to himself that he wouldn't break down on this trip, he couldn't have kept the emotion at bay if his life depended on it.

He wept onto Heero's shoulder as the Japanese man rocked him, stroking his hand through the unruly blonde curls at the back of Quatre's head, whispering a soothing "Ssh, it's okay," against his neck. Duo stood behind him and rubbed his hand along Quatre's back, his own emotions boiling over at the amount of pain his friend must be enduring.

Quatre seemed to remember himself and abruptly pulled back, apologizing profusely, mortified when he noticed the now wet stain on Heero's shirt. Duo chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

"Hey, don't worry about it. Heero makes a good snot rag, don't you, Hee-chan?"

"Hn," Heero cupped the blond's face in his hands. "You have nothing to apologize for. Understand?"

"No, I do. This is your wedding and I'm supposed to be helping you guys have a wonderful time and here I am blubbering all over you. I'm so sorry." He bowed his head, flushing with shame.

"Hey, look at me, Quatre. I told you you have nothing to apologize for and I'm not accustomed to repeating myself."

"Better listen to him, Q. He's got Perfect Soldier mode written all over his face."

Quatre barked out a laugh, wiping tears from his cheeks with his sleeve. "Okay, okay. But I mean it when I say I don't want to be an emotional mess. This is your special time."

"It will be our special time regardless. I wouldn't feel good as a friend if I ignored the pain of someone I cared about just because something good was happening in my own life." Heero looked deep into Quatre's eyes, expression firm. "We want to make this as painless as we possibly can for you. Because it's what we want to do. Understand?"

The blond nodded, sniffled. "I think so."

"Think if our situations were reversed. How would you react if it was your special day? I can't see you ignoring another's pain, no matter how good your life was going."

"I should hope I wouldn't."

"I know you wouldn't. And neither will we. We want you to enjoy your time with us, but if you need to talk, cry, scream...whatever...you go ahead and do it. Okay?"

Quatre smiled. It was watery, his lip quivering, but he managed. God, he loved his friends. How lucky was he to have such wonderful people in his life? "You guys are the best."

"Yeah, we know..." Duo placed his hand on Quatre's shoulder, expression solemn. "It's not easy being so awesome."

Quatre laughed and grabbed a tissue from the box Heero held out for him. He wiped his face dry and blew his nose, feeling much better already.

---

He stood in front of the full-length mirror in Heero and Duo's bedroom and looked himself over thoroughly. Duo had sent him in there to try on his tux and it seemed they got his measurements right. It was slightly loose-fitting, but that was mainly due to the few pounds he'd lost in the two weeks he'd spent stressing over this event.

He felt a strange sense of dullness as he looked at himself, wondering if this was how he would have looked at his own wedding. Not that that was ever going to happen now, but he had to wonder. He studied his face and body, not seeing what apparently everyone else saw.

This was the world's most eligible bachelor? Number four of the world's top ten most beautiful people? How? When did that happen and what exactly made him qualify? He was short, skinny, with a pixie-like face. People told him he was pretty, but he just didn't see it. He shook his head and turned away, sliding the jacket off his shoulders as Duo knocked on the door.

"How's it going? Does it fit?"

"Yes. Yes, it does."

"Lemme see." He cracked the door open as Quatre slid the jacket back on. It was black, and beneath that was a faux-silk white shirt. The tie was simple and black as well. He looked and felt like a penguin. Duo nodded his approval. "Looks good. It's a little loose, though. Did you lose more weight?"

"Yeah, I think so. Sorry, I was just stressing and I wasn't eating like I should." He turned back to the mirror and Duo stood behind him, hands on his shoulders.

"Quat, you gotta quit worrying us like this. You gotta eat."

He sighed. "Yes, I know. And I will. I promise. I know I haven't been taking good care of myself, but I'm going to change that. Losing Trowa is no excuse for me to do this to myself." How had it taken five years for him to realize that? He met Duo's eyes in the mirror, noting the sadness in his face. He felt like a shit friend. "I'm sorry for worrying you."

"Don't apologize. Just get better. However you have to do that. That's all I want, okay?"

Quatre nodded, resolving to do just that. "I will." He smoothed the jacket over his scrawny frame. "I don't see what every one else seems to."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't...I honestly don't know how, or why I ended up being on these ridiculous Most Beautiful and Most Eligible Bachelor lists. I don't see it."

Duo's arms closed around him from behind, resting his chin on the blond's bony shoulder. "Quat, you are beautiful. You have one of the prettiest faces I've ever seen. You look like...like one of those woodland faeries, or a pixie, or something." He tweaked Quatre's ears. "All we need to do is get you some pointy ears and a little hat with a bell on it -"

"Stop it." Quatre laughed, shoving his friend away.

"I'm serious, though."

"You do realize those are qualities more fitting of a girl, don't you?"

"Quat, I hate to break it to you, but you've never been particularly masculine. You wore pink shirts back in the day, if my memory serves me. Remember that little purple vest?" Grinning, Duo began prancing around the room, clutching his sides as if he were holding an invisible vest.

"Yeah, okay. I get it." Quatre snickered as Duo curtsied before him, with a rather flamboyant flair. "I suppose I'm not going to win any manly awards any time soon."

"Hey, nothing wrong with embracing your feminine side. That's what I always say."

"When do you say that?"

"Just now. C'mon, get that thing off and come into the kitchen. Heero made some snacks. You need a good dose of carbs and protein before the party tonight."

Quatre groaned at the reminder of what he was being forced to partake in. He pulled the tux off as Duo exited the room, slipping into a pair of jeans and a navy blue t-shirt. He bagged the tux back up and hung it in the closet. He would be getting dressed for the wedding here since he would be busy assisting Duo with whatever it was he would need assisting with tomorrow.

---

Duo and Quatre were escorted through the back via the VIP entrance of the club. Quatre's senses were immediately assaulted by the bright, flashing lights, and the loud, booming music. They settled into a couple of seats near the stage and Quatre immediately ordered a drink from a buff-looking guy with no shirt and a tux-type choker around his neck, in the hopes that the alcohol would help calm his nerves. This was just plain weird for him. While he'd enjoyed a pretty extensive sex life with Trowa, he'd never thought of himself as particularly kinky. Did a strip club qualify as kinky? He didn't know. Maybe he really was a prude.

Duo was grinning from ear to ear and that set Quatre's mind both at ease and on edge. A grinning Duo could be a very nefarious thing sometimes. On the way there, Quatre had reiterated his warning to Duo about no lap dances and Duo had crossed his heart and "hoped to die". Quatre watched his hands closely to be sure he hadn't crossed any of his fingers when he'd said that.

Duo ordered a round of shots and Quatre gratefully slammed the burning drink back, already feeling the tequila melt his anxiety away. Duo leaned over, yelling in his ear to be heard over the music. "Relax! We're here to have a good time and enjoy the eye candy. Don't be a stiff. You're allowed to have some fun."

Already slightly buzzed, his trepidation reducing itself to a slow simmer, easier now to ignore, and felt a smile curl his lip. He shot Duo a grin. "I will."

The men really were hot. Their muscular bodies heaved and undulated to the beat of the music and Quatre found himself actually enjoying it. He licked his lips as a particularly beautiful man crawled towards him on the stage, and Quatre's breath caught as the dancer's searing gaze was directed straight at him, seduction written across the brown eyes. He curled his finger in a "come hither" gesture and then rolled onto his back, hips rising and falling under the colorful, smoky lights. Quatre felt his groin give an interested twitch and blushed.

"I think he likes you," Duo shouted in his ear and he blushed even harder, thankfully unseen in the dark club. The dancer flipped himself back over and crawled to the edge of the stage, reaching out to swipe a finger under Quatre's chin. "Hi there, sweetheart. How you doin' tonight?" He drawled in a distinct Latino accent. His hair was dark brown and curly, but the fringe was long in the front and curled down over one eye. He vaguely reminded Quatre of Trowa and he felt the heat in his body flare. He coughed, embarrassed.

"Money!" Duo was shouting. Quatre glanced at him, confused.

"Huh?"

"You gotta give him some - here -" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a five dollar bill. The dancer turned on all fours, g-string covered ass right in Quatre's face and he nearly choked on his drink. Duo stuffed the note into the waist band of the man's briefs and he sauntered away, still on his knees, shaking his ass across the stage as he made his way over to where other patrons were waving more dollar bills. The light in Quatre's head flickered on. Oh.

"Oooohhhh..."

Duo nodded, grinning. "Now, you're getting it. The more money you wave around, the more attention you get." He held up another five dollar note and hollered, "Hey, sexy! Get your ass back over here."

Quatre could do without all the attention on him. He much preferred to sit back and quietly enjoy the show, but it seemed Duo was not going to let that happen.

Apparently, Heero was frequenting a different strip club with Milliardo and Trowa. Quatre wondered how that was going. Wufei had vehemently refused to attend either party, declaring that he was "a married man who doesn't swing that way".

Duo soon ran out of cash to stuff into the dancers' skivvies and started holding his hand out to Quatre who grudgingly handed over bill after bill. They were both pretty tipsy after a couple of hours and Quatre made a mental note to call them a cab to get them home safely. Duo could pick his truck up later.

After three hours, they were out of money and they stumbled out into the warm Los Angeles night and into a waiting taxi. Quatre had to admit he'd had a lot of fun and Duo was smug, eyes sparkling with joy and tequila. "I told you so," he said with a grin.

They stopped at the hotel and Duo went in with him. Quatre insisted he just stay the night and they could pick up the truck and head to Duo's house in the morning. Duo nodded drunkenly and flopped down on the queen sized bed, the springs squeaking beneath his back. "I can't believe by this time tomorrow, I'm going to be married."

"It's an exciting time." Quatre grabbed a pair of pajamas and his toiletry bag and shuffled into the bathroom to get ready for bed. When he came out, Duo had stepped out onto the balcony. The door was open and the warm breeze flitted in, billowing the sheer curtain panels. The faint sound of ocean waves drifted into the room.

He walked out onto the balcony and joined Duo who was leaning over the railing, staring out into the dark void of the sea, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers. In the sky, the brightest stars glittered overhead.

"I thought you quit."

Duo looked down at his cigarette. "Eh...I did. For the most part." He stuck the butt end between his lips and continued. "Planning a wedding is stressful."

"I'd imagine it is." He plucked the cig from his friend's lips, took a drag, and stuck it back in Duo's mouth. Blowing smoke out into the night air, he said, "I remember how stressed Relena was when she was planning her wedding." He chuckled. "She almost went bald from all the hair pulling she did."

Duo tipped his head back in a guffaw. "Oh man, that's right. Poor girl. She snagged herself a good guy, though."

"Yeah, she did. Tom is a wonderful husband to her."

"I wasn't sure she'd ever get over Heero being with me instead of her."

"I know the feeling." Quatre was still there. Where Relena had been several years ago.

"Hey," Duo's eyes were bright beneath the full moon, the light from inside the hotel room playing shadows across his face. "You know I didn't mean it like that."

"I know. I just meant that I'm still in that place, where she was not too long ago."

"Your situation is different from hers anyway. You had something with Trowa. Something special. Heero was never romantically interested in her."

"That's true. God, Duo, what happened to me? I fought in two wars. I piloted a Gundam, commanded armies, helped rebuild the colonies. I'm running a very powerful resource satellite business. How did I become such a sad, little creature?"

"Everyone needs love. And when you have something special like the bond you had with Trowa, I can't even imagine what it must be like for you. I don't blame you one bit." Duo flicked the cigarette butt off the side of the balcony and turned to him. "You are not pathetic, despite what you may think. I'll admit, I was completely gutted when I found out Trowa left you. I just couldn't believe it -"

"Neither could I."

"I couldn't understand why. There was no stronger bond than the kind you two had. I always thought -" Duo paused, laughed, but without humor. "I always used to think, if it doesn't work out between you two, what hope was there for the rest of us? If anyone had the best chance of sticking together, it was you guys."

Quatre swallowed down a wave of pain, blinking back tears. "I miss him so much."

Duo curled an arm around him. "Come here." Quatre rested his head on Duo's shoulder and together, they watched the beach front traffic in the comfortable silence of the fifth floor balcony. No more needed to be said. Duo pressed his face into the soft, blond hair and let Quatre weep.

---

Morning came, sooner than expected as Duo's alarm went off at seven. He groaned, pulling his arm from beneath the sleeping blond and rolled over to shut it off. Quatre was curled up against him, head pillowed on Duo's chest, snoring softly. Duo chuckled and patted his cheek.

"Unf..." Came the groggy reply.

"Wake up, Q-bean. We've got a big day ahead of us."

Quatre's head popped up, instantly awake. "What time is it?"

"Seven. We gotta get a cab and go get my truck. We should eat first, though."

The blond yawned and sat up. "Yeah, okay. Go ahead and order room service, my treat. I'm going to grab a shower." He rose from the bed and grabbed some clean clothes, padding into the bathroom.

The shower was enjoyable, the hot water soothing and relaxing tense muscles. Another method of relaxation occurred to him and he closed his eyes into the stream of water as he considered it. Should he? It would definitely help. But, Duo was out there. Though Quatre was almost sure he would have no qualms about doing the same. He heard his friend's voice in his head: Live a little. So, he threw all caution to the wind and reached down to touch himself. Images of silky brown hair, smoldering green eyes, and a powerful athletic build emerged in his mind's eye and Quatre didn't question it, just went with it. He imagined Trowa sinking to his knees, Quatre's fingers digging into the sinewy flesh of his shoulders as Trowa licked around his shaft, gently, lovingly, as he had so many times in the past. He swallowed down a moan, a whispered, "Trowa", on his lips as he wrapped shaky fingers around himself and tugged. It didn't take long and Quatre muffled his cries into his forearm, the sound of the shower and exhaust fan blurring out any escaping noises; the swirling water washing away the evidence.

Steam billowed out as Quatre opened the bathroom door and he could hear the TV playing some shoot-em-up action flick. He stuffed his pajamas into his bag and combed his wet hair as he listened to Duo's critique of the film.

"This is so stupid. It's not even an automatic weapon! You can't shoot that many bullets at a time that quickly with a semi. What the hell are they playing at?"

Quatre chuckled. "It's just a movie, Duo. Relax."

Duo sounded put out. "That's no excuse for lack of accuracy. They must think we're stupid."

"Duo, I don't think most people are concerned, or would even notice the difference."

"Still -"

There was a knock at the door and Quatre swung it open to let the staff in with the room service cart. It was positively covered with numerous plates filled with eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, hash browns, and pancakes. Quatre's eyes bugged out as he surveyed the excessive amount of food. "Good Lord, Duo! You planning on feeding an army?"

"What? I'm hungry. And you need to get some meat on your skinny ass."

Quatre tipped the server and closed the door. "I hope you know there's no way in Hell I'm going to be able to eat even half of that."

"Then I'll take care of whatever you don't."

Quatre shook his head, endearingly amused, and they set down to eat, laughing at the cheesy movie, and coming up with their own dialog. Despite his nerves, Quatre thoroughly enjoyed the time he was spending with his friend and was so glad he hadn't bowed out at the last minute.

They rode in silence in the cab on the way to the club to pick up Duo's truck. Quatre's belly, though happily full, twisted and churned in anticipation of seeing Trowa in a few hours. Duo sensed his trepidation.

"You okay?"

Quatre turned to him. "Are you?"

"Eh, I think so. I'm a little nervous, but not too much. I was actually more scared when we moved in together. I was so worried I'd drive him crazy with my disgusting habits, he'd either walk out, or kill me in my sleep."

Quatre laughed. "Duo, you know Heero adores you."

"Yeah, but living together ain't no joke. I think that's the true test of the strength of a relationship. If you can manage to live together and not kill each other, you've got a good set up."

Quatre absently wondered if that was the catalyst behind Trowa leaving. Did he have disgusting habits? Was he impossible to live with?

Duo shrugged. "After all that, marriage seems like a cake walk."

Quatre gazed out the window, feeling hollow. "I suppose you're right."

---

Heero was getting ready at Milliaro and Lucrezia's house so the place was empty when they arrived. Duo went to take his shower while Quatre laid out the tuxes and brushed them down to remove any hairs, or fuzzies that might have been stuck to them. He checked his phone quickly to make sure the limo was on time. Duo thought he was driving his truck to the church, but Quatre was going surprise him with the limo. One that would also take the newlyweds off to their hotel for the night after their reception.

They would be spending their honeymoon in the mountains of Oregon, where they'd rented a little rustic cabin for the week. Duo was so excited as he rattled off all the activities in the area. Hunting, fishing, skiing...though Quatre was pretty sure they'd probably rarely leave the cabin. He laughed to himself as he remembered Duo's offhand comment about "fucking like bunnies in a barrel of cocaine".

Duo returned to the bedroom to find Quatre already dressed and sat down in the chair in front of the dresser to brush his long hair. Quatre's hand closed over his and he smiled at Duo's questioning look. "Let me," he said.

Duo smiled back and handed him the brush and Quatre stood behind him as he brushed the snarls and tangles out of the long locks. Deciding on a special flair, he began a French braid, starting at one side of Duo's head, bringing the elegant twist down diagonally until the rest of the braid rested over his opposite shoulder. He finished it off with a touch of Baby's Breath at the top of his head and tucked a sprig into the braid at the base of his neck. Duo admired his work, asking him where he learned to do that.

"One doesn't have twenty nine sisters and not learn a few things along the way."

He laughed and got dressed, Quatre helping him into his suit jacket. His tux was identical to Quatre's, but his tie was a vivid purple to match his eyes. They stood in front of the mirror together, their arms around each other, getting decidedly choked up.

"This is it," Duo's voice was shaky with emotion.

"I'm so proud of you guys."

"Thanks, Quat." Duo hugged him and Quatre wrapped his arms around his friend, pressing his face into his shoulder. He pulled back before things could get too blubbery, and grinned.

"Shall we?"

Duo visibly shook himself out of his emotional state and grabbed his keys and wallet off the night table. "Yep. I'm ready as I'll ever be."

"You make a beautiful groom and I know Heero will, too."

Duo blinked back tears as the two left the house. "You're the best friend a guy could ever ask for."

He stopped dead when he reached the porch, so quickly, Quatre walked right into him. He stepped back, could hear the gasp from his friend and he smiled to himself. A sleek, black stretched limo sat in front of the house. The chauffeur waited near the door, tipping his hat, ready to take them to their destination. Quatre watched Duo's head turn, slowly, looking at him with wide eyes.

"Did you do this?"

Quatre grinned. "Guilty."

Duo threw his head back in a hearty laugh. He grabbed the blond into his arms and swung him around like he had back at the shuttle port, then set him down and sobbed into his shoulder. Quatre held him, stroked his braid as he unleashed probably months worth of pent up stress. After a few moments, he lifted his head, grabbed Quatre's face in shaky hands, and planted a big, wet smooch onto the blond's mouth. He pulled back, but still held Quatre's face, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I mean it. You really are the best friend I've ever had. I love you, man."

Quatre smiled through his own tears, placed his hands over Duo's. "And you're the best friend I've ever had. It was my pleasure. I can't repay all the times you've been there for me, including the last couple days. And I love you. I want to see you and Heero happy for the rest of your days and I will do everything in my power to make sure that happens. I mean that from the bottom of my heart."

Duo shook his head, in awe of the amazing blond creature in front of him. "Trowa was a fool to let you go."

"I'm in full agreement with you."

He laughed and grabbed Quatre's hand. "Come on. I wanna see this baby up close and personal." Duo dragged him to the car, Quatre stumbled and tripped trying to keep up with his excited friend.

The driver opened the door with a, "Good afternoon, Sirs," and Duo bent down to peer inside. "Hot damn, this thing has a bar and everything!" He climbed inside and slid over to make room for Quatre. "Let's get this show on the road."

---

The church was already full with guests when they arrived. While neither Duo, or Heero were particularly religious, the church was more in honor of Duo's beloved Father Maxwell and Sister Helen.

Contrary to Duo's relaxed attitude about the wedding, he began freaking out while in the receiving room as he prepared to walk the aisle. He broke out into a sweat, face flushed, hands shaking with adrenaline. Quatre tried his best to keep him calm.

"Duo, relax! Like you said before, you guys already got through the hard part, right?"

"Yeah, I know, Q, but like...what if I screw this up?"

"What, the wedding?"

"No! The marriage!"

"Duo, you're not going to screw it up. Just remember, no marriage is perfect. You guys love each other. No matter what, it will work out."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I believe in you both. Maybe, if you guys are successful, there's hope for me," Quatre said, remembering Duo's confession on the balcony. He smiled reassuringly as he fanned Duo's flushed face. "Now, I need you to calm down and breathe. Can you do that?"

Duo nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. I can do that." The music started and the murmur of the crowd died down. "Fuck! Okay...alright, here we go."

Quatre kissed his cheek. "You got this, right?"

"Yeah...yeah I got this."

"Good." Quatre turned around, preparing to step out from behind the doors. His own heart thudded in his chest at the knowledge that he was about to face Trowa. There was no going back now. For either he, or Duo. Thankfully, his walk down the aisle was with Milliardo as he was Heero's best man. He was endlessly grateful that he didn't have to walk the aisle with Trowa. He steeled his heart and waited for his cue.

When it came, Quatre took a deep breath, reaching back to squeeze Duo's hand for a moment, then stepped forward, meeting Milliardo at the back of the chapel. He nodded and smiled at the blond man and linked his arm through his, and together they walked up the narrow aisle to the front. Trowa and Wufei were already standing in their respective places at the alter which was decked to the nines in red, purple, and white flowers. Milliardo's tux was all white, in contrast to Quatre's black, and he looked strikingly handsome, his hair slightly shorter, but still well past his shoulders. Quatre spotted a very pregnant Lucrezia in the audience and gave her a warm smile.

From there, Quatre kept his eyes forward, refusing to even look at Trowa. They reached the alter and went to their assigned places, Milliardo beside Trowa and Quatre beside Wufei. Quatre stared at the two sets of double doors where the two grooms would emerge, though he sensed Trowa's head turning to look at him. He studiously ignored it, glancing only once at Tobias in the audience, and refusing to look at him after that. Instead, he grinned and waved at Relena and Tom in the front row.

The music changed and all attention was focused on the back of the chapel. The doors opened and Heero and Duo emerged, Duo in black and Heero in white. They came face to face and smiled at each other, linking their arms together as they walked up the aisle. They both looked positively radiant. Beautiful. Quatre blinked back tears and sent them both a wink and a thumb's up. Duo winked back and Heero smiled at him. Quatre had never seen the Japanese man look so soft, his blue eyes sparkling, cheeks flushed a rosy pink.

The vows were kept relatively simple, both Duo and Heero writing their own, they spoke them to each other as if there were no one else in the room and Quatre's heart both soared and broke at the same time. He struggled to keep his composure as he listened to the heart-felt declarations of love, for better or for worse, till death do them part. He glanced up at Trowa by accident and he shivered and looked away as the expressive green eyes seemed to gaze right into his soul. He had no idea what that was about and chose not to address it, reverting his attention to the grooms.

He watched with bittersweet happiness as they slid the rings onto each other's fingers and when the priest made the declaration that the two were officially husband and husband, the crowd erupted in applause and whistles and cheers as the two men held each other close and sealed their union with a kiss. Quatre allowed the tears to roll down his cheeks as he smiled and clapped his hands. He breathed an inner sigh of relief. Phase one was over.

Afterwards, the wedding party was required for a photo shoot and they were herded around and placed in different poses both inside and outside the church. For some reason, Trowa kept trying to stand next to him, at one point allowing the back of his hand to brush against Quatre's. Quatre managed to use Wufei as a shield between them, avoiding any and all contact with his former lover. Wufei seemed to understand and when Trowa tried to worm his way back in, he subtly maneuvered himself between the two.

The venue where the reception was held was only a few miles away. Quatre hitched a ride with Milliardo and Lucrezia so that the newlyweds could have the limo to themselves. Lucrezia looked good in her eight months of pregnancy. Her skin glowed and her hair shined, though Quatre could see the fatigue in her eyes.

"How are you feeling?" He asked as he leaned forward in the backseat.

She turned her head, smiling. "I'm okay. I'm tired, but I'm hanging in there. Only a few more weeks now."

"Do you know what you're having?"

"Oh, no. We decided to wait until the birth. Well, Milliardo wanted to know, but I wouldn't let him." She laughed as she placed a hand on her husband's thigh.

"She's rather militant about that for some reason." Milliardo offered, glancing at Quatre through the rear view mirror.

Quatre chuckled. "I see. Well, she's gotta carry him, or her, so I guess her word is God."

"Aha!" Lucrezia pointed at her husband. "See? This young man gets it." Milliardo grasped her hand and kissed it, smiling at his wife.

The reception venue was a banquet hall for veterans. Milliardo parked the car and he and Quatre helped Lucrezia out as she struggled to get up with her large belly in the way. "Oof," she gasped. "I'll be so happy when the baby finally comes!"

"You may regret that in a few weeks," her husband chuckled. She swatted his arm and they walked hand in hand through the parking lot, Quatre following behind at a more sedate pace.

The hall was already filled with guests, having got there while the wedding party was still taking pictures. It was loud, drinks being poured freely as the DJ played one Top 40 song after another. Quatre caught up with Dorothy who had a new piece of arm candy clinging to her side. She introduced her as Denise and Quatre shook her hand, exchanging the usual niceties. She was a pretty girl, dressed similarly to her date in a slinky red dress. Dorothy was notoriously finicky about her dates, and she was proudly and unabashedly single, refusing to tie herself down with any one person, and quite frankly, just simply hooking up with whomever tickled her fancy. Quatre admired that about her. She was fun and carefree and she did what, and who, she wanted. Maybe he should be taking notes.

He turned at a hand on his shoulder as Relena greeted him, offering him a glass of champagne. He hugged her, so happy to see her again. Out of all his friends, Relena was the one he saw the most, as they frequented the same social circles. They got along wonderfully, often taking time to go have a drink together after some political meeting, or another. She was wearing her signature pink in a flattering A-line dress that was cut low in the back. Her hair was tied up in a high knot on top of her head and adorned with small pink flowers.

Her husband, Tom Atkins, stood by her side, a hand on the small of her back as he enthusiastically shook Quatre's hand with the other. He was a tall, handsome man, the son of a prominent politician. He was a friendly, smiling guy, always cracking jokes. He reminded Quatre somewhat of Duo. He liked Tom a lot and thought Relena did well for herself. He'd come along when Relena was grieving her love for Heero and swept her off her feet. Quatre wistfully wished someone would do that for him.

Dorothy was already eyeing a few other females, most notably, a young waitress who was serving glasses of champagne. The two women flirted across the room and Quatre was astounded that Dorothy did it right in front of her date. Even more astounded when he noticed Denise was also checking her out.

He felt eyes burning into the back of his head and turned to see Trowa standing about twenty feet away, staring at him with an unreadable expression. Quatre's breath caught in his throat. Damn, but he looked good. He filled out his tux perfectly, the fabric cut so beautifully against the broad shoulders and tapered waist. The long bang in front was gone and the brown tresses were swept off his forehead, bringing out the sharp, bright green of his eyes. In short, he looked incredible and Quatre felt his knees weaken, damning himself for still responding to him the way he always had. Tobias stood beside him, clinging to his arm, talking away about something that Trowa didn't even seem to be paying attention to. Those green eyes pierced through him, poking holes into his emotional barriers, and Quatre quickly looked away, turning his attention back to his friends, lest he do something stupid.

Thankfully, he was saved by any further awkwardness by the arrival of the grooms. He cheered along with his friends as Heero and Duo walked into the ballroom, hand in hand, wide smiles on their faces.

---

It was shortly after dessert when Quatre decided he was probably drunk. He gazed out onto the dance floor, watching the two grooms sway back and forth to a crooning love song. Heero's head rested on his husband's shoulder as Duo sang the lyrics softly in his ear. It was the sweetest thing he'd ever seen and he wished, not for the first time that night, that he had someone to call his own.

He'd already danced with Relena and Dorothy, and even Duo and he had gotten silly on the dance floor during a classic Bob Segar wedding song. Now, people were either dancing with their significant others, or chatting together at one of the tables. Quatre sipped his vodka sour, feeling dreadfully alone and isolated. Against his will, his eyes shifted to Trowa who danced with his arms around Tobias, though his eyes were staring right at Quatre. What was the deal with him tonight? Did Quatre have a boog hanging from his nose, or something? He absently wiped it with his sleeve, suddenly feeling self-conscious. And still, Trowa kept staring. Tobias was oblivious, his eyes closed, sappy smile on his handsome face. Quatre wanted to slap him. Wanted to slap them both.

He stood abruptly, regretting it when the room tipped and spun a little. He needed air. He walked across the ballroom, nodding and smiling to a few people who called out to him, and left the building through the lobby exit.

The night air was a little cool for LA, but Quatre welcomed it. It was sweltering inside the banquet hall. He pulled out a loose smoke he'd swiped from Duo's pack and smoothed it out before lighting it. Sitting down on a brick ledge, he leaned his head back and stared at the moon, the image of Trowa dancing with his boyfriend played in his mind's eye and he wanted to bang his head against the wall in an effort to get it out.

He felt the stuttering in his chest as the emotion threatened to overtake him and he fought it down before it could sweep him away, though a tear, or two did escape his eyes. He swiped at them angrily, so tired...so damn tired of feeling like this.

"Are you alright?"

Quatre jumped and spun around. Trowa stood a few feet away, looking at him with an expression of concern. Well, wasn't that just swell? He sucked in a lungful of smoke and sneered at his ex lover.

"What do you care? Go back to your boyfriend."

"I didn't know you smoked."

"I don't," he spat. He glanced down at the cigarette in his hand as if he wondered where it came from, then dropped it onto the ground, stubbing it out with his shoe. "What do you want, Trowa?"

"I wanted to talk to you."

Quatre snorted. "Well, that's rich." He raised bloodshot eyes to meet Trowa's. "What makes you think I want to talk to you?"

"Because you looked lonely and sad -"

"Imagine that! And whose fault might that be, do you think?"

"Quat -"

"No, Trowa. Whatever you think you have to say, you can keep it to yourself. I don't want to hear it." Quatre was amazed at his own resilience. He'd always imagined a reunion like this with him breaking down and weeping like a baby. Maybe he was stronger than he thought.

Trowa paused, uncertainty in every angle of his body language. "I miss you..."

Quatre eyed him silently. Then, "What?" He'd heard him, but he just couldn't believe the audacity.

"I said I m -"

"Yeah, I heard what you said, I just can't believe you said it." He stood up, suddenly more enraged than he'd ever been in his life. He stalked up to him to him, facing off, which probably looked a little ridiculous considering Quatre was a head shorter. He got the absurd mental image of a mouse squaring off with a cat and briefly worried about his sanity. "You've got some fucking nerve, you know that? You ruined my fucking life, Trowa! You destroyed every little piece of me that -"

"I know."

"No, you don't fucking know! And even if you did, you're still going to hear it from me." Quatre was literally spitting with rage. Five years of pent up pain and agony, loneliness and frustration, and anger and confusion, finally boiling over now that he had the appropriate outlet. "Do you have even the slightest clue what you did to me? You were my whole world, everything that ever mattered!" The tears were coming fast now, though he tried to push them away, they spilled down his cheeks in hot, damning rivulets. "The only way I got though any of my days dealing with those assholes at work was because I had you. And you didn't even have the decency to break up with me in person? You had to do it over the phone? What the Hell is that? Is that what I deserved after devoting so much of my, very limited I might add, free time to spend with you? Is that what I deserved after giving you every single piece of myself, of my heart? If you want to "talk to me" maybe you can start by explaining that!"

Trowa watched him for a moment and Quatre thought he saw his eyes mist over. He stepped over to the ledge and sat down, burying his face in his hands. "I did what I did because I was...scared..."

"Oh, that's bullsh -"

"I was scared, okay?!" Trowa shouted as he shot up to his feet.

"You mean to tell me you put me through five years of Hell...because you were scared?" Quatre couldn't believe what he was hearing. Trowa looked utterly defeated, suddenly small.

"Yes."

Quatre was at a loss. "Of what?"

Trowa slumped back down on the ledge. "Everything...you...me...I was - I was falling so fast and so hard for you and I'd never been in a relationship before -"

"Neither had I. I didn't run out on you."

"I know. But, you've always been braver than me. Quat...I was so afraid I was going to ruin your life...by being with you. You - you are so good, so kind, so special, and so damn important to so many people." Trowa shook his head, his own despair coming through the stoic exterior. "And who was I? Nothing...a nobody -"

"You were everything...to me."

"And that scared me, too. I didn't want to disappoint you, to fail you in some way. You looked up to me from the moment we first met and I never knew how to tell you that that admiration was misplaced."

"You failed me when you left me over the phone...for him."

"I didn't leave you for him. I didn't get with him until three months later."

"What?!"

"I didn't leave you for him, or anyone else! I wanted to come clean about that at Wufei's wedding, but it wasn't like I could talk to you then. You never left Duo's side -"

"No, no you said, and I quote: "I've met someone that Cathy and I thought would be better suited for me.""

"There was no one. I only told you that because I didn't want to explain to you that I was breaking it off because I was a coward -"

"And you expect me to believe that?"

Trowa shrugged. "It's the truth. And why would I be telling you this now if it wasn't? Quatre," he stood up, walked over to the blond, took both his hands in his larger ones. Quatre tried to pull them away, but Trowa held on. "I'm telling you I was a coward. I fucked up the best thing that ever happened to me because I was afraid of losing the best thing that ever happened to me and my fear...it caused me to do just that." Quatre glanced up, looked into pleading eyes. "I messed up. I messed up so bad and I'm so sorry for the hurt I've caused you. I love you, just as much as I did before. That hasn't changed. It's only gotten stronger."

Quatre choked on a sob, punching Trowa in the chest. "You bastard!"

Trowa nodded, eyes sad. "You're right. I'm a bastard. But I'm a bastard who loves you and adores you and worships the ground you walk on. I'm so sorry, Quatre."

The dam broke and Quatre sagged, just narrowly missing hitting the ground by Trowa's strong arms as they wrapped him up tight and held him against his firm chest. Quatre sobbed against him, feeling the warmth of his skin through the thin material of his shirt against his face, felt the heart he loved beat beneath his cheek, inhaled the unique scent of Trowa. Everything came back to him in startling clarity, the love, the touches, the whispered confessions, the pain, and he clutched Trowa's shirt, holding on for dear life, pouring out every ounce of agony he'd endured. Five miserable years worth. He wailed brokenly as Trowa stroked his hair, whispering, "I love you, I love you, I love you..."

"I hate you," Quatre croaked, voice half-gone. "I hate you so much."

"I know. I don't blame you. I hate me, too."

"Why didn't you just talk to me? We could have worked it out! We could have -"

"I panicked. I panicked and I didn't know how to. It's a flimsy excuse, I know, but the only thing I have left to offer you is the truth. I owe you that, and so much more."

Quatre pulled away, utterly exhausted, shoving away Trowa's hands irritably as he hovered, concerned about Quatre collapsing. He was drained. Felt lifeless, but also surreal, as if in a dream-like state. He never expected a confession such as this and he didn't know what to do with it. He needed space. And time. Lots of time. "I - I need to go. I need to call a cab." He fumbled for his phone, pulling up his search engine to locate a nearby cab company.

"Let - will you let me take you to your hotel? I can drive you -"

"No! No, I - I need to be alone right now. Just...can you get Heero and Duo for me? I want to say goodbye, but I don't want to go back in there like this."

Trowa shifted on his feet, not ready to let the blond go yet, but he knew it wasn't his call. He had no right to tell him to stay. He nodded, "If you're sure..."

"I am. I'm sure."

Trowa nodded again and went in search of the newlyweds while Quatre called a cab. This night did not turn out like he'd expected, but he couldn't tell if it was good, or bad. He was too tired and too saturated with alcohol to think clearly. And he needed time to think, when he was fully sober and not completely raw. He waited for both the grooms and the cab, tapping his phone against his thigh, impatiently, just wanting to go back to his room and sleep for few hours, or years.

"Quat? Babe, you okay?" Duo came rushing out and embraced his friend. "What happened? What did he do?"

"I'm fine, and he didn't do anything. Just talked to me. Don't be too hard on him, okay? I'm just really tired and I'm a mess right now, but I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye and wishing you well on your honeymoon."

Duo pulled away, searching his eyes to be sure he was really okay. Quatre smiled reassuringly and kissed his cheek. "Really, I'm fine. I just need to rest. I've got an early flight back to L4 tomorrow morning."

"Okay, if you're really sure..."

"I am. Thank you so much, Duo, and you too, Heero." He pulled the Japanese man into a hug. "I'm so happy for you guys and I'm so glad you invited me. I'm glad I came."

Heero eyed him, "You mean that?"

"Absolutely. When I think about it now, everything about this trip was perfect. I wouldn't have it any other way." He was surprised to realize he really meant it, too. Despite the difficulties, it was an incredible experience and an honor to be invited to witness the wedding of his two best friends. It left him with a sense of fulfillment that he'd hadn't felt in a long time.

Heero seemed to know that, instinctively, and squeezed him tighter, whispering a sincere, "Thank you," into his ear. "I'm honored that you came and I'm honored to call you my friend."

Quatre sniffled and kissed them both as the taxi pulled up to the curb. He stepped back and walked to the car, pausing when he reached the door. He turned with a smirk, "You kids behave now."

"Never!" Duo shouted, wrapping his arms around his husband. "I'll expect you to throw me a baby shower in nine months!"

Quatre laughed and got into the car, waving as it pulled away. He watched the lights of the city pass by his window and remembered doing the same only three weeks ago. Strangely, he felt different this time. Then, he'd been filled with a sense of dread, a sadness so profound, he'd felt like his soul was dying. Now, though drunk, exhausted, and emotionally drained, he felt a strange sense of peace. Like maybe, for him, there was a light at the end of the tunnel. A shimmering ray of hope that made him actually want to face the following day, if only to see what life would throw at him next.

For the first time in five years, he felt like he could breathe. For the first time in five years, he remembered what it felt like to be alive...

---

Two months later...

"Ahh..." Quatre dug his toes into the warm sand and leaned back into his lounger, a pair of Ray Bans perched on his nose. Miami Beach was the place to be and Quatre relished the feeling of being truly free of responsibility, if only for a couple of weeks. His pale skin was kissed gold by the sun, tinged slightly pink from the heat, and his nose savored the scents of strong salty air and suntan lotion.

It was the first vacation he'd taken in five years, staying true to his promise to Duo to live a little. Just live. Take some time out for himself, to enjoy life once in a while. He'd put on fifteen pounds in the last couple months, thanks in part to a healthy diet, and a personal trainer. He was no longer skin and bones, though he remained slender due to his genetics. He'd even begun to date a little, though he knew he still had a long way to go until he was ready for any commitments. He resolved to just have fun and go wherever life decided to take him.

Married life was going well for Duo and Heero. They'd adopted two puppies, a brother and sister, and they doted on them as if they were their children. Quatre and Relena had picked out matching outfits for the dogs, had their names embroidered on them, and sent them to Duo and Heero in brightly wrapped pink paper. Duo had sent them a photo of the dogs in the outfits with the caption, "Thanks Uncle Quatre and Aunt Relena! Woof!"

Relena told him last month that she was now expecting. Quatre patiently listened to her rant and rave about morning sickness and the woes of early pregnancy, often turning green and excusing herself to the ladies room mid-rant. Tom was over the moon, talking endlessly, much to Relena's exasperation, about their soon-to-be son, despite Relena insisting that it could be a girl.

Lucrezia delivered a healthy baby boy shortly after the wedding and at last word, the new family was doing well, albeit a little tired. The baby was apparently colicky and often kept both parents up at night.

Wufei and Sally were heavily involved in the Preventers and Wufei staunchily announced that there would be no pitter-patter of tiny feet for them any time soon. Sally just rolled her eyes and said, "We'll see."

Dorothy was still playing the field. Her sexual escapades with the world's most beautiful women often granted her a spot on some such tabloid, or another. Of course, Dorothy ate that up as she was rarely seen without a lovely lady on her arm.

Things seemed to be settling into a smooth and consistent flow. With Quatre taking time out for himself, he was better able to handle the eat-or-be-eaten world of politics and corporate cronyism. He not only persevered, but excelled at playing the media in a way that had just about everyone eating out of his hands. He was touted as the youngest executive of the Earth Sphere, beautiful, graceful, kind, generous, exceedingly smart and cunning; the most desirable man in the world. His face graced the glossy covers of business, and fashion magazines alike. His speeches before the ESUN were lyrical, thought-provoking, and magnetic. When Quatre spoke, people listened. He was charismatic and he knew how to make people fall for him, and fall they did. Like putty in his hands, they begged and pleaded for him to mold them into something better.

A shadow blocked out Quatre's sun and he raised his sunglasses to peer at the offender. A familiar face looked down at him, sharply handsome, and Quatre immediately recognized the brown hair and green eyes.

"Is this spot taken?"

Quatre smirked. "Not at all. Be my guest." He removed his things from the chair beside him so Trowa could sit down. He took a moment to admire the view as Trowa got himself situated. He was wearing a black speedo, his skin smooth and deeply tanned, his muscles moved sensually beneath his skin as he shifted around to find a comfortable position. Quatre cleared his throat as he leaned back, sliding his own sunglasses over his eyes.

"Fancy seeing you here."

Trowa's head turned, regarded him. "You know there's no such thing as coincidences, don't you?"

"I knew it." Quatre snorted. "You followed me here."

"I've been tracking you since the wedding."

"Why?"

"Because I want to be part of your life again."

"You don't find your activities a little...creepy?"

Trowa slid his shades down his nose, stared into Quatre's eyes. "Do you?"

Quatre pretended to think about it. "Hmmm...I'm not sure. I should be angry that you've been spying on me."

"Are you?"

"I'd like to say 'yes', but I'd be lying, and I've dealt with enough liars in my lifetime."

"Including me."

A nod. "Including you."

"I'd like to change that."

"How?"

"I want the opportunity to prove to you that I am capable of not breaking your heart."

"I'm not a charity case."

"It's not charity."

"Why then?"

Trowa's brow raised. "I told you already. Because I love you."

Quatre stared at him for a long time. Then, his lips curled up, ever so slightly. "You want a drink?"

"What?"

"A drink, Trowa. Do you want a drink? My treat." The blond smiled wider. It was contagious and Trowa couldn't help himself. He smiled back.

"I'd love one."

End.

 

~ * ~

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