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"The Hearts of Men"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: Underage Drinking, Date Rape, Drug/Roofies,
Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort Pairings: Trowa Barton/Quatre Raberba Winner,
Duo Maxwell/Heero Yuy, Quatre Raberba Winner/Original Male Character(s) Summary: The pilots celebrate the end of the war,
only to discover peacetime does not mean all is well in the world.
For there will always be evil in the hearts of men. Expansion of my
three paragraph drabble, Intoxication in my Thirty One Days collection.
For chemicalcrush. " The Hearts of Men" Quatre had no idea how he ended up like this. Sandwiched between two fully grown men, their large, meaty hands gripping his hips and waist as they rubbed their groins against him in a mockery of dancing. He had no idea where Duo was. The last time he’d seen him, he’d been chatting up Heero at the bar. Now, he was nowhere to be seen and neither was Heero, Trowa, or Wufei. He’d stupidly wandered off to look for Trowa who seemed to be taking much longer in the restroom than was normal. He was desperate to find him because he was pretty sure someone had slipped a drug into his drink though he wasn’t certain how, or when. He was worried that Duo and the other three might have also been subjected to the same drug. He was roughly grabbed as he stumbled on wobbly legs and pulled into the mass of writhing bodies by two heavily muscled men whom, from what he could determine in his intoxicated brain, had to be in their thirties. He was swept around the crowded dance floor, his strength and ability to fight them off was rendered nonexistent. His rubbery legs were virtually useless, hanging limply as he was held up by beefy arms. It was the only thing that kept him from dropping to the ground. His head, heavy with the drugs he’d been given without his knowledge, lolled on a neck that couldn’t seem to hold its weight. His feet left the floor as a tattooed arm hoisted him up and clutched him against a broad chest. “It’s okay, baby. Relax and let the drugs work their magic. Just rest your head on Daddy’s shoulder and we’ll take good care of you.” Quatre’s body tensed, only a little due to his weakened state, realizing these men were the ones who’d drugged him. His head rolled on the man’s shoulder and he blinked heavy lids at the close up beard inches from his eyes. “You did ‘dis. You - ba - basssssturrd…” “Oh, now don’t be like that, baby. We’re just having some fun. You be a good boy for Daddy, okay?” Quatre recoiled as thick lips closed over his own, the man’s prickly beard scratching against the soft skin of his face. He tried to pull his head away when a tongue slithered into his mouth and didn’t have the strength. He used what little he did have to bite down on the invading appendage. The mouth abruptly vanished, the low, seductive tone rising in a heated curse. “Ow! You little shit - Here, Barry. Take him for a minute. Little bastard bit me.” Quatre didn’t have time to feel vindicated because he was suddenly shoved forward and caught in the arms of the other man. He dangled limply, trying to spit the first man’s blood out of his mouth. His hands, sluggish with fatigue, scrabbled up bare arms. His fingers curled in and he pressed as hard as he could into the skin, then raked his hands down. Unfortunately, his attempt to claw his captor did little damage and he fought off a nauseating wave of dizziness at the gruff laugh in his ear. “You’re weak as a kitten, baby. But it’s cute that you tried. Don’t know what a tiny, delicate little thing like you is doing here. If you can’t play with the big boys, you should stay home.” Quatre shuddered in revulsion when a wet tongue slithered up his neck and gritted his teeth in frustration. Where the fuck were the other pilots? He blinked dazedly as he was carried like a child into a darker, slightly quieter room. His unfocused eyes tracked the blurry faces of the club’s patrons, took note of the smiles and laughs, and memorized each one. He was set down onto his feet, swaying for only a moment before his knees began to buckle. He was grabbed again and lifted onto a table, groaning in fury as his thighs were pushed apart. He squirmed against the cold hardness beneath him when the first man’s heavy body settled on top of him. His stomach lurched at the feel of that slimy mouth and scratchy beard slobbering over his face and neck, moving lower as the buttons of his shirt were popped open. His futile attempts to push him off were thwarted, meaty hands grabbing his wrists and holding them down against the table. "Sssstop,” he slurred when lips closed over his nipple and suckled at it. The man’s leather clad erection burrowed into the space between his legs. “Shut up, you little fucker. You’re going to pay for biting me.” Thick fingers pulled at his belt and Quatre felt the humid air of the room brush against his exposed groin. His equilibrium spun on its head as he was suddenly flipped onto his front and whimpered against the table, knowing what was coming next. He didn’t even have the energy to scream and could only pant and groan brokenly when spit-slicked fingers forced their way inside him. Oh, Allah. Help! Trowa, help me. Please… *** The booming of the base vibrated his ear drums and reverberated off his rib cage, making his heart thump to the beat. Trowa rubbed his chest at the discomfort as he stepped into the main area of the club and glanced around for his fellow pilots, his keen eyes seeking Quatre’s blond head. It had taken an inhumane amount of time just to run to the men’s room to take a leak. The line was ridiculous and the stalls and urinals were blocked by people engaging in various levels of sex in the bathroom. There were a few awkward, “Excuse me’s” as he tried to make his way to an empty urinal and literally had to squeeze into a narrow space left by two guys who were too busy dry humping to care that someone needed to pee. He endured the bumping of the grinding bodies against his back and realized he would have been better off pissing outside. He spotted Duo out on the dance floor, rubbing his crotch against an inebriated Heero’s ass and decided he wouldn’t bother them at the moment. Wufei was sitting at the bar, nursing a mug of tea and trying to ward off some randy fellow that was trying to get him to dance. Trowa approached just in time to catch Wufei’s, “Touch me again and I’ll lop off your hands and shove them up your ass.” The guy’s eyes widened, his mouth turning down into a pout. He slunk further down the bar to accost someone else. Wufei sensed Trowa’s proximity and turned sharply, another thorny retort on his lips before recognition set in. He slumped in relief. “Oh, it’s you.” Trowa chuckled. “Good to see you, too.” Wufei gave him a cursory look. “Were you in the bathroom this whole time?” “I was trying to go to the bathroom this whole time. FYI, if you gotta go, you’re better off taking your business outside.” Wufei snorted. “Thanks for the warning.” “Hey, have you seen Quatre?” “No, he wandered off and I lost sight of him. I thought the two of you were…” He made an offhand gesture. “You know.” “Uh, no. He was here when I left, but I don’t see him.” Wufei jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Maxwell and Yuy are trying to fornicate on the dance floor. That’s all I know.” “Yeah, I saw that.” Concerned now, Trowa pulled away from the bar and stepped onto the dance floor, looking for the head of distinct blond waves. It was difficult to spot him because Quatre was so short. He endured the groping hands that reached for his groin and pinched his ass, pushing them away with monumental patience. He caught sight of Duo’s telltale braid weaving in between the sweaty, dancing bodies and maneuvered his way over to him. He yanked on the braid and Duo spun around with a yelp. “Ow! Hey! Oh, Tro. What’s up. Wanna dance?” He grinned like a shark and wrapped his arm around Heero who was too far gone to even notice Trowa was there. “Get Quat and we’ll make it a foursome,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. "I can’t find him, Duo. Do you know where he is?” “No, I thought he was with you.” “Shit.” Heart pounding, Trowa pulled away and shoved through the tight gaggle of dancers, alarmed now. Something wasn’t right. He grabbed the arm that hooked around his waist and tried to pull him back, and twisted it into a painful angle. The howl of pain was loud over the booming music and Trowa let go after a moment and continued on. He got free of the dance floor, scarcely noticing that Duo and Heero were hot on his heels. “Where the hell could he have gone?” Trowa didn’t answer, too concerned with finding Quatre. Humiliation and terror was niggling at the back of his mind and he realized with a jolt of sudden urgency that it wasn’t his own. “There. The VIP room.” He reached the doors, shoved them open, and stormed inside. He spotted two large men near a corner table, what appeared to be a smaller man, a boy, pinned between them, and instantly knew it was Quatre. He stalked forward, hands curling into fists, rage igniting along his every nerve ending. He reached the table and grabbed a handful of leather vest, using all of his upper body strength to yank the man off of the blond. The rapist stumbled and spun around, surprise on his whiskered face. He had no time to react before Trowa’s fist smashed into his face. He shrieked through his now busted jaw and Trowa’s left fist swung around and connected with his nose, breaking the cartilage. The other man stepped forward, intent on defending his friend, but took Wufei’s sharp elbow to the cheekbone instead, shattering the bones in the right side of his face and knocking him out cold. Trowa grabbed the first man by the hair and lifted his head. His eyes were rolling deliriously, blood gushing from his crushed nose. Trowa sneered and then drove his head down into the table, once, twice, three times… “Tro, stop! You’re gonna kill 'em!” “I know,” he snarled, intent on doing just that. Wufei appeared at his right and grabbed his arm. “You want to be brought up on murder charges?” Trowa’s nostrils flared, on the verge of shoving his friend out of the way and finishing the job. “Barton, don’t be stupid.” Wufei’s hands tugged gently, talking him down with a softness Trowa didn’t realize he was capable of. “Let him go. You kill him, you’ll be fucked in more ways than one. And what would Winner do with you in prison?” That jolted him out of his murderous rage. He dropped the man who collapsed to the floor in a bloody, broken heap and turned his attention to Quatre. The blond was draped over the table with his trousers around his knees. His eyes were squeezed shut, but the tears still leaked through and slid over his nose onto the distressed wood. Trowa reached down to pull the boy’s trousers back up for him and gently turned him onto his back while Wufei barked at the gawkers in the doorway. “Call the fucking police, you morons! These assholes were raping our friend.” “D - drugsss,” Quatre slurred as Trowa fastened his pants for him. “They…drugged me…T…rowa? I don’ feel s’ good.” "I’m right here, Quat. It’s okay. You’re safe now.” He lifted the blond’s slight weight into his arms and carried him towards the door so he wouldn’t have to see his attackers, or be stared at by the club’s patrons. “Tro, we’re gonna have to talk to the cops.” “I know. I’m taking him to the hospital. If he’s been drugged…” He shook his head and looked down at Quatre who’d passed out in his arms. “He needs medical attention and a rape kit.” Duo nodded. “Yeah, okay. We’ll meet you there.” Trowa turned and pushed his way through the crowd, rushing through the parking lot with his burden. He gently deposited Quatre into the passenger side and buckled his seatbelt. “Just hang on, Quat.” He brushed sweaty bangs off the boy’s forehead, heart rate spiking when he felt the feverish skin. He shut the door and ran around to the other side. Sliding behind the wheel, he started the car up and raced towards the hospital, praying to gods he didn’t believe in that Quatre would be okay. The agony swelled up in his throat and he brushed furious tears out of his eyes as he broke every traffic law. He sped through one red light after another and reached the emergency room in record time. His arms felt empty, his heart despondent when the doctors and nurses took the blond from him. He stood frozen in the middle of the desolate lobby until a soft, but firm hand rested on his shoulder. “Tro? You okay man?” Beyond words, Trowa turned and buried his face against Duo’s shoulder. He let the tears go, soaking the fabric of his friend’s black shirt. Duo stroked the back of his head and tried to comfort him as best he could. “He’s gonna be fine, buddy. Okay? We’ll get through this.” Trowa nodded, but he wasn’t sure any of them would be okay. The war may have been won, but the hearts of men were as black as ever. As long as evil still existed, no one was safe. Not even during peacetime.
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