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"Band of Steel"Written By: Kaeru Shisho Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing
or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: AU, shounen-ai, yaoi in later chapters,
some language, drugs Pairings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3 Summary: With the Sanc battle of the bands contest on the horizon, do the GW boys need the exciting singer from L2 to give them the winning edge? Other credits: Songs are credited in the chapters they are used. Recognition should go to the late Mitch Hedburg for a couple of his wonderful one-liners used. In chapters 7, 11, 12, 15, 17, and 18, dialog from the anime was incorporated directly into the storyline. Acknowledgment goes to someone else for the 'cats are gay', 'knowing color names is gay', and other gay jokes sailing around the Internet. And the New Age affirmations are not mine, but may seen and heard everywhere, even in the GW universe. (Original version 2007 - this is the rewrite version
2009) "Band of Steel " Chapter 12 - Tangled Up In Me "I w-want to go b-back to that c-coffee shop," Duo said through chattering teeth and hugging his jacket close to his body. "Coffee shop? Are you out of your mind?" Heero asked Duo. "I d-don't know." Heero stared at him. "Maybe I just decided to take dumb, rhetorical questions literally from this point on. Hey, c'mon. I'm freezin'! I w-want some c-c-coffee even if you d-don't." "It's nearly three the morning. I want sleep, not coffee. Maybe a shower." If he was sounding petulant, Heero didn't care. He'd already followed Duo blindly into the underground tunnels and nearly gotten killed, or felt close to death. He was certain someone did die down there. He could replay the events of about ten minutes past, and his mind did without his desire to relive any of it, because as he had shoved the trapdoor open to gain access to the safety of the club, he was sure he heard gunfire ricocheting off the cement walls somewhere in the distance. Duo ducked into the coffee shop with Heero on his heels. "Order me something hot. I'm washing my hands." Heero glanced down at his own hands and remembered the feel of touching Duo's naked body, and was charged with a jolt like electricity. When he looked up, he caught one last whip of a braid swinging along a dark corridor. A shaky breath escaped Heero's lips as he pulled himself together. He stood in line and scanned the menu for a suitable warm beverage. The line was short, but it was a line, in a coffee shop-- at this hour of the night? A quick survey of the clientele told him that the teenagers of L2 were night owls. Some were dressed as well as he was, but most were scruffy, needing haircuts, and dental care. None had the funds for colored hair or elaborate piercings, which set them apart from their Sanc counterparts. Heero guessed they were here because it was safer to remain alert during night hours and sleep in the relative safety of daylight. Duo would know if he asked him. He placed his order, took his number, and waited for a couple to empty out a booth before seizing it for himself. Duo appeared and Heero left the order receipt on the table, while he exchanged places with him. Washing hands was an excellent endeavor. Washing his entire body would be even better. After he fought the stubborn faucet for a trickle of water and discovered his pants were the best towel choice, Heero was incapable of friendly banter, which was too bad because there at the table he found a teenager leaning over the booth chatting up Duo. Duo caught his eye and waved him over. "We gotta fan, 'Ro. Say 'hi' to Sphere. He was at our concert tonight." "Hn." Heero smiled, barely, but when he looked in the fan's direction his thoughts were murderous. He wanted Duo to himself. He wanted to pummel him with questions and extract answers. He wanted to rip off his clothes and ravage his body in a hot shower and then tumble with him into a huge, clean bed. He crammed his many wants into a tight, pulsing wad of ire and listened in on the conversation as he studied the invader. Sphere was younger than Duo and Heero, just got his license to drive into the borough for the show, was excited to be out so late, and thrilled to meet his idol. One of those rare rich boys, Heero decided, although he looked average for Sanc. The coffee girl delivered a tray of drinks, recognized Duo, squealed shrilly, and Heero had to restrain himself again. Holding his mug of hot drink stilled his hands; sipping it excused his lack of conversational skills. "Wow, so you two were so cool on stage. Really great band. So much better than Sweepers, but that was chill, you guys doing that number together like that." The boy looked shyly at Duo and then Heero. "So are you guys, you know-?" "Tired?" Heero asked in an ill-disguised growl. "Nah, just mates," Duo said dismissively. "You still live around here?" The boy's curiosity seemed endless. "Not any more. Band's touring for awhile." Heero was interested in Duo's reply, though. He'd not paid attention to what "sectors" Duo had lived in before. He knew Duo had worked the area, but having lived here would explain how he knew about the tunnel. Partially. Heero wanted to know why Duo chose that tunnel. Was it just coincidence that Une and Treize showed up? Duo quaffed back a bit of what appeared to be a fancy coffee drink with whipped cream topping. He gagged before forcing down a swallow, coughed, sputtered, and set the mug back on the table before he stared wide-eyed at Heero and asked, "What is this?" "Hot chocolate." Heero finished his drink in one last swig and looked toward the exit. "Milk?" Duo could have said "poison." It was said in much the same way. "I assume it contains heated milk, sugar, and cocoa, but I could be entirely wrong. It is not caffeinated and it's warm." "It's for babies! I haven't drunk milk for... like ages." "We should go," Heero suggested. More than anything, he wanted to discuss what happened and to report Lady Une's predicament to Zechs. Then he wanted that shower and sleep. He could see something black and greasy on Duo's braid, his stomach recoiled, and nearly lost his drink. "Now!" he added, standing abruptly. (o) "I should be there fighting!" Quatre cried out. "Not here cowering safe and whole while my colony is under attack! If my colony's government falls then I have failed them!" "You aren't allowed re-entry," Zechs reminded him. "Quatre loves to blame himself for everything if you let him. Sooner or later, he'll start saying that there's no air in space because he didn't work on it hard enough," Wufei drawled, pulling back the sheets, and slipping under the cover of his bed. Trowa sat on the arm of the overstuffed chair, his arm half on the chair back and half over Quatre's shoulders as if he was expecting him to swoon again at any time. Trowa said to him, "Maybe your father knew something about the situation there that you didn't, and sent you away for your own safety." "What did you say?" Quatre twisted all the way around and looked up. Quatre studied the other boy's face for a hint of sarcasm and came up short. Had he been in the mood, he would have enjoyed Trowa's concern and read more into it that there was. But Trowa's face was serious and what he had said contained a ring of truth. Maybe there was more to his being turned out of his family home than what his father had shouted in anger? Maybe being disinherited had been a move to protect him? "Oh...my... I never thought of that. But... Rashid said the family compound was safe. The OZ attack was in another area entirely." "That's good. So, your family is safe and so are you. Let's keep it that way," Zechs put in. "Did Rashid say all the Maguanac Corpsmen were returning to L4 tonight?" "He called from space. They should all be there now." Quatre stood at the window gazing into the fog and gloom, hoping to spot a glimmer of light which was L4. "Some are transporting my remaining sisters away." "And knowing you are here and out of harm's way will allow them to protect the compound. Their attention won't be compromised," Wufei concluded. "I understand your motivation to join the fight, however. I, too, wish to vindicate myself. I survived, while my colony was destroyed." Quatre could sense the pain and anger seething inside the other boy, and something else which he interpreted as a need to share his misery. "What happened, Wufei?" Quatre asked. "I was the heir to my clan; a scholar not interested in fighting. My betrothed, Meiran, was a warrior who considered me weak. She ended up dying in the much publicized syndicate attack on L5. As a result, I am, I admit, obsessed with being a strong fighter, and with taking my revenge on the syndicate." "You will get your chance," Quatre said. He didn't know where he'd dredged up so much determination. "Let's not lose sight of what we are doing here," Zechs interceded. "And more importantly, you need to grow beyond your hatred. Remember, the greater the hurt the greater the need to forgive--." Quatre felt lighter of heart all of a sudden and wiggled into a sitting position. "Duo an-" Heero and Duo thundered into the room, Duo shouting "Dibs!" and dashing into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind him. "You forgot a change of clothes and your hair crap!" Heero yelled at the door. He spun around and stared at Trowa, Zechs, and Quatre, who stared back. "This is the only bath with hot water," he explained. "Where have you been?" Zechs asked. Quatre gasped. "Heero you're bleeding. Your jeans are torn." He pointed to his temple and Heero copied his movements, smearing a line of blood over his cheek. "Zechs, we found Lady Une." Quatre could feel Trowa tense then jump to his feet, crying out, "Where?" just as Zechs demanded the same. Heero turned to Trowa, who had asked first. "Beneath the streets run tunnels which house the environment controls for L2. Duo used to live around here, and for reasons only he knows, knew where he thought Treize might have taken her." "You saw both of them?" Zechs asked. "Yes, they were there. Treize and Une came out of a freight elevator. He's got this scheme and is forcing her to take part in it even though she was fighting him. He spoke of an inventor at Lunar Recording." "Tsuberov? He's their supremely creative engineer," Zechs said. "Yeah, that's the name. Treize wanted either him or his technology for mass-producing recordings, and ordered Une to get one or the other for him. Apparently, she once worked for Khushrenada." "I neeeeeed more shampooooooooooooo!" Duo warbled from behind the door. "You can give him mine," Zechs said to Heero's retreating back. "He hasn't much to wear," Trowa put in. "He travels light." "I have plenty," said Quatre. "In my bag you'll find sweats. Oh, here, I'll do it!" Quatre popped out of his seat and plowed through his bag until he located a clean pink t-shirt and grey sweat pants. Heero returned, took the clothes-offering with a grunt, and banged on the bathroom door. "Open up!" "It isn't locked!" Heero opened up and entered. Zechs, who looked immensely tired, pulled out his cell phone and stepped away to the window. He balanced his weight on the sill with his back turned to the room in a definition of private space. Quatre's head spun with the converging emotional onslaught from all the others. His own worries for his family and colony at war could only be pushed back for so long, but he did. He erected barriers to shield himself from everyone else's feelings and with a clear mind, considered what Heero had told them. He needed to find out more from him that was for sure. Heero was gone only long enough to hand over the hair products and clothes. When he stepped back into the room, he stood empty-handed, eyes glazed over. "What the fuck was I doing?" he asked his hands, shook his head and stared blankly. As if he only just remembered his own needs, he muttered, "I'm cleaning up back at my room." Seeing his chance, Quatre backed into the door to the hall and leaned into it, blocking the exit. "Heero, how did Duo know where to find Lady Une and Treize Khushrenada, of all people?" Quatre asked. "How the hell should I know? He didn't enlighten me along the way," Heero snapped. "You're the mind reader; you tell me!" "I don't read minds! I was just asking." "Quatre, if you don't get out of my way, I'm going to kill you." "Heero, don't pick on Quatre so much," Trowa said, his voice soft and low. Heero looked over to meet Trowa's eyes, surprised perhaps by his show of solidarity. "Just move and forget it, Winner." "I won't forget. And I won't let you forget what happened today," Quatre said. "Nothing happened. I'm just tired," Heero mumbled in a limpid apology. "To me it did," Quatre said softly. When Heero took no notice of what he'd said, Quatre stepped aside, allowing the heavier, stronger boy to pass. Heero grunted and stalked out of the room, presumably to clean up in his room's tepid shower as he had said. Quatre was tired and crabby, too. They all were, but no one seemed to want to leave the room Quatre and Wufei shared, and possibly miss out on the scenario unfolding before them. Trowa pulled Quatre onto the arm of the cushioned chair where he had been sitting earlier. "Take a load off." Quatre was about to suggest that he and Trowa go to his room for the night, when Duo emerged from the shower, dirty clothes balled up and tucked under an arm, and hair wrapped in an insufficiently sized towel and dripping. "Loads better. Now, all I need is food." Duo's loud voice jarred Wufei out of his doze. "Eh, what? What are you doing in here? Why aren't you in your own room and why are you dressed like Winner?" Duo chose not to bother answering; instead, he stood over the crabby, sleepy-eyed Chinese boy's bed and shook out his hair. There was plenty of runoff to shower Wufei to the soaking stage. Amid Wufei's shrieks and death-promising oaths, Duo danced out of his reach and laughed playfully. "Get me something to eat, and I'll stop. I know you're hiding something in that bag of yours. Candy bars?" Duo chortled. "I do not carry candy with me!" Wufei snarled. "Go away!" "Stop making me repeat myself, it's bad for my health," Duo said, snapping his towel and stinging Wufei on the ass. "Argh! I will decide justice. NOW!" "We are leaving," Zechs said quietly folding away his cell phone. "You have fifteen minutes to pack up your belongings then we will assemble in the lobby where I will be settling our bill here. A vehicle will deliver us to our new hotel for, I hope dearly, the duration of our stay. I'll inform Heero of the change of plans as I pack." He wrapped Wufei in a firm grip and propelled him back to the bed and apart from Duo. Duo, he grasped by the back of the neck, mostly by a handful of damp hair, and pushed him ahead and out the door. He paused only to cast one last look over his shoulder, catching Trowa's eye. "You, too." Without another word, Zechs opened the door to leave. Duo, determined to get in the last word, said, "I could use something to eat, ya know." Quatre could hear Zechs muffled voice as it echoed down the hallway. "Naturally." By four o'clock in the morning, Zechs and the band he managed were ensconced in one of L2's finest, newest hotels within a twenty minute drive of their gig location. Each room had working hot and cold water taps, and one, the one connected to the room Zechs would be sharing with Wufei- by Wufei's loud pronouncement- had a couch, table and chairs, and kitchenette attached. Room service had delivered light meals of omelets, toast, and tea for everyone. Showers were completed. Heero claimed Duo by rights and hauled him off to one room, leaving Trowa and Quatre to share the last available room. Bodies collapsed into clean beds. Eyes were shut. Conversations over. Sleep time at last. (o) Trowa woke up to the sound of quiet. Quatre slept silently like a cat. Duo tossed and turned, muttered, snorted, gasped, and even shouted out in his sleep. The only proof that the other bed was occupied was a tuft of bright blond hair and the steady rise and fall of the mound of blankets down the dead center of the bed. It was nearly two in the afternoon and Trowa's empty stomach growled. If he was hungry he knew that Duo wouldn't be far behind. He expected him to show up soon begging everyone to go hunting for food. So in preparation, he dressed quietly in a t-shirt and jeans, the uniform of teenage boys all over. He answered the gentle knock on his door with a smile, but it wasn't Duo. "Yo." "We are going out in fifteen minutes." "Okay, Chang, but Quatre's still sleeping." "Leave him a note." "As if-" Trowa only just managed not to slam the door in his insensitive friend's face. He sidled up to the sleeping form. Quatre looked so young, although, Trowa knew for a fact that he was the oldest of the five of them, if even only by a few months. Trowa looked at him and wondered how it was that Quatre was attracted to him. Trowa was nothing, not even a cagey street rat. He was a clown, a no-name clown in a circus, with a violent murky past running with a band of mercenaries, while Quatre Winner was the only son to a multi-billionaire. Cultured, genuine, and gentle. If Quatre stuck with girlfriends he would be returned to the bosom of his family and his inheritance. If he fell for him, another guy, then he'd be expelled, surely and permanently. Trowa knew that eventually Quatre would hold him responsible for spoiling his life, and he couldn't blame him for that. His best course was to steer Quatre into a firm, platonic friendship with himself and into a steady, romantic relationship with Catherine. That made him very sad, though, to think about, but think about it he did, over and over. "Quatre?" He reached out and touched his friend's shoulder. "Quatre? Hungry?" "Hmmm?" Quatre blinked. He stretched. He looked so inviting that Trowa nearly fell into his arms. "Chang dropped by to tell us the others were leaving to go find food. We have about ten minutes." "Oh!" He sprang out of bed wearing loose pajama bottoms. "I, ah, don't have much time then, do I?" Quatre seemed a little flaky to Trowa, but his merry temperament and "early morning" energy just amazed him, uplifting his sagging spirits instantly with his cheerful smile. He would maintain a hands-off policy. But if Quatre moved on him, how could he resist? Well, he knew he couldn't, no matter how right or wrong it was, Trowa knew he was weak and would surrender himself to the other boy immediately. He didn't know which to wish for, Quatre's resistance or aggression. Quatre dashed into the bathroom, only to come out a few minutes later dressed, brushed, and ready to go. "I really do like this place much better, don't you?" "Yes," Trowa answered, knowing it must have cost Zechs a mint to put the band up in this swanky hotel. Quatre needed a healthy income to be comfortable, that was clear. Trowa wondered if he could ever supply that for him. Unlikely, returned the small voice in his head. Well, if Quatre was really gay, and surely no teenager would lie about something like that, then he wasn't going to deny him the pleasures of sex, if he sought him out. Still, Quatre would have to be the one to make the moves; that, Trowa decided, was all there was to it. That was as far as his morals would go, after that he was a fallen man. Zechs' generosity knew no bounds, Trowa thought, as the band climbed into a rented limousine. Duo gave them a tour of his old haunts from the comfort of their luxurious car, which, as Duo put it, "ran as smooth as foam on a mug of Guinness." He stared out the window. One rundown building looked like the next to Trowa. He'd had his fill of the bad side of town, the wrong side of the tracks, and the dives of life. He was only marginally interested in seeing the flop houses, hangouts, and joints Duo and his Sweepers visited. Zechs and the five boys all got out to see the last place where Duo lived. Duo was particularly subdued now that they were there. The sun had come out yet there was still this ocean of mist at their ankles. "I get the feeling of standing on a ship's prow, looking out over empty water," Quatre said, dreamily. Quatre said stuff like that all the time, but on this occasion Trowa wished he had experienced the feel of sailing on a ship with him so he could enjoy the out-of-synch environmental controls as much. Zechs was on the phone calling for a truck to pick up whatever boxes of crap Duo and the rest of them could haul out. On an empty stomach it felt like too much work, but when he counted the few things stacked by the curb, it made Trowa sad to think what little accounted for Duo's life accumulations. Trowa thanked Duo when the singer next steered them to the German-based Hofbrau House. There, heaping plates of mashed potatoes, gold with butter and with hollowed-out centers overflowing with rich, brown gravy were set before each boy. This was more to Trowa's liking. A platter of sliced meats carved from roasted haunches of beef, ham, and rotisserie chickens filled the center of the table. At each place were steaming side dishes: bowls of peas, cauliflower with cheese sauce, cabbage with noodles, and three other dishes Trowa didn't recognize but ate with relish. They all ate like starving children, even the rather finicky Wufei, and enjoyed themselves thoroughly doing so. Afterwards, Zechs directed the driver to a shopping district to look for more clothes and to fill the time before they were to head back to the club to play. Trowa guessed that Zechs didn't plan to let any of them go sightseeing on their own, and privately agreed. Too risky. Duo, Zechs insisted, was to shop for clothes suitable for performing and a few sturdier pieces. What Duo was wearing was very worn. His ragged jeans weren't stone-washed they were street-pounded, and his scuffed motorcycle boots were resale-shop castoffs. When it was first pointed out, Duo laughed, "I call it 'poverty chic'." Surprisingly, Duo didn't get defensive. He accepted the spending spree with good humor, especially since his clothes from performing the night before were unusable after a few hours in the tunnels contacting sludge, which he barely washed out of his hair. From what little Heero told Trowa, he had ended up cutting tar out of Duo's hair before they finally fell asleep. It hadn't been a night of romance-- that much Trowa was sure of. If he was confused as to what to do about Quatre, he knew Heero shared his confusion, even to the point of misery, as to what to do about Duo. From Trowa's point of view, Heero hadn't before shown an interest in either sex, but he was aware of Zechs' expectations for him to court his sister. When it had been said jokingly that Heero was asexual, it was actually true, up to that point. A more disinterested date Trowa couldn't imagine. Then Heero saw Shinigami on the stage and he was like a man ensorcelled. The guy was really due this kind of manic infatuation. Trowa smiled, because Heero's situation was rather funny and remarkable at the same time. Zechs lay down the law for the excursion. They were required to stay in the same store and not venture to the next shop until everyone was ready. It was clumsy and slow going, but fun just the same. Also fun was watching the others carry on. Wufei was always good for a laugh and Trowa knew if he hung around him he wouldn't be disappointed. "Abercrombie and Snitch?" Duo joked. "Might as well start somewhere," Quatre told him. "Oh, look at this nice shirt!" The music roared unapologetically. "Hey!
Hey! Hey! "Do you think they would turn down the music in here if I asked?" Zechs asked. Wufei shook his head. "Ask and they will laugh in your face. They laugh in the face of the weakness." "Don't
judge me tomorrow by the way I'm acting today "Not if they want my money," Zechs replied. Wufei fanned his hand, pooh-poohing the idea. "The people who work here get paid whether or not you are happy." "I think I shall sit outside," Zechs said, resigned to playing guardian for the day. "I shall keep you company in that case," Wufei said. "There is nothing here that could interest me." "Hey!
Hey! Trowa flipped through some shirts until he saw the prices. He decided to return to his people watching activity. Dressing Duo was insane. He had no idea what looked good on him, just what was "too pricey" or "a good deal". His tastes were eclectic, but mostly if he wasn't showing skin he thought he was overdressed. Quatre found tons of possibilities and Trowa simply watched, trailing after him, amused by the excitement both boys shared at the sight of clothes. Trowa was happy with the same few things, a few better shirts, and a few for the act. "Tell me what you need, and I'll tell you how to get along without it." That was Trowa's shopping philosophy. That was enough. Well, that and Quatre-watching. Quatre seemed so free and easy when he talked to Duo. Trowa wished the two of them could be as comfortable and close. Duo claimed that he didn't collect "stuff," but now he couldn't get along without numerous items of clothing, or so it seemed. Quatre was pleased to cater to his every whim, even when Duo teased him to within an inch of his life. "Here's a cute outfit," Quatre held up a couple articles of clothing by their hangers. "Not bad, Cat. That outfit would look great in a crumpled heap on your bedroom floor tomorrow morning. Heh, heh..." Yeah, Duo could make poor Quatre flush with embarrassment with ease. Trowa wanted to be the one to make Quatre color with passion. He was afraid he might give away his thoughts, so he turned away to find Heero, wondering how he was holding up. Along the way he a shirt caught his eye hanging in the clearance section and he distracted himself with that for awhile. "You
wanna know more, more, more about me Duo flit around in some shirt and pants. "Whadda ya think? Heero picked them out." "Nice." "There's more!" Duo shouted and dashed away. Trowa caught up with Heero staring at the dressing room door, waiting for Duo to re-emerge. He stood transfixed by the door, his heart pounding double time against the canned music. "Hey!
Hey! Something Duo had said or done had stirred his friend's guarded passions, lighting his desire, because Heero was clearly aroused. "You okay?" Trowa asked, and Heero didn't even blink. "Can't
you see I want you by the way I push you away, Ya! "Want to go look over some shoes with me?" Trowa asked, trying to help break the mood. "Mix
the words up with the actions do it all for your reaction Ya! Heero closed his eyes and drew an unsteady, but purifying, breath, as if to reset his resolve and break from Duo's spell. Just in time for Duo's reappearance. "Okay, Heero. It's either this outfit or the other, or I'm going naked!" By Heero's expression, Trowa could tell Heero chose outfit number three, and started to laugh. Heero, against his wishes, Trowa supposed, was on fire. Tough break. "This one, now let's get out of here," Heero grumbled. "You
think that you know me (o) "Twenty minutes!" the sound man told them. Quatre checked and re-checked the settings on the synthesizer, but his concentration was flagging. He found his seeming inability to knit words into sentences getting worse whenever Trowa was in his presence. It was no wonder. Trowa is fantastically sexy. Enigmatic, from the circus, years on his own- all of it touched a romantic nerve in Quatre. Trowa was taller than the others by a few inches, lean and lanky like a male model. His tawny hair covered one eye giving him an air of mystery. Salesmen had bumped into him, flirted, chatted him up. Trowa was unaware of the effect he had on the male sex. They didn't do that to Quatre and they avoided Heero completely-Duo, too, after feeling flayed alive by a lash from Heero's ever-watchful glare. Quatre only wished "it", that thrilling thing that made guys so attractive, would rub off on him. He so much wanted Trowa to notice him! He closed his eyes and pondered. Certainly, he was rich enough, probably intelligent enough, even good-looking enough. He had said something that made Trowa laugh. This made Quatre feel exceptionally good-- that he could make Trowa laugh at all-- because he thought Trowa was really cool, and he liked the idea that he could provoke such laughter. Duo always could, it seemed. If anything was going to happen between him and Trowa, he would have to instigate it, he guessed. Envying Duo's talents wouldn't help him, and Trowa was too shy and, if he was honest, not really upper class. Not that that mattered to Quatre, but he knew that held back many suitors in the past; like the chauffeur's good-looking son, he mused. It was the kind of problem that concerned his father, but not him. He was just a kid in a band now, no better or worse than the others. As they readied themselves for another performance, this time to a sell-out crowd, Quatre had plenty of time to contemplate his past experiences in order to formulate a strategic plan to "get Trowa Barton." Generally speaking, Quatre determined that he was confused about sex. The gropings and kissing and sweaty fumblings of his early teenage years had somehow seemed lacking in substance. The idea that any of those nervous, jack-rabbit boys he'd encountered might make his fantasies come alive, was absurd on the face of it. When at the tender age of fourteen he had finally "done it" on the floor of his private bath, he had been taken by the son of an ambassador. The boy had been so nervous, so overly eager, so inexperienced and gawky, that in some ways it had been worse than learning to dance. Drugs had at least provided him an escape. He smiled at the rather nasty remembrance, knowing that the others in his band assumed he was a virgin. It would be fun to surprise Trowa Barton. "Showtime!" (o) And hour later, the band took a break. Quatre swallowed his weight in water, unable to quench his thirst. "It's so hot! Oh, look who's here!" "Well, why are we all just standing here?" Lady Une said it as if chairs should materialize out of the very air, and looked sharply at Trowa as if his magic act were rotten. "It's filled to capacity," Zechs explained. "All the spare chairs are being employed as additional aisle seating." "However," Zechs Marquise, by far the most elegant thing in the club, murmured as he rose smooth as syrup to his feet from Wufei's drum throne, "you may have this, if you like." His lips spread in a razor-blade smile. "We missed you last night. I understand you were meeting with the enemy instead." Her breath caught. "Who told you that, a little birdie?" "I'd say more of a little sewer rat. You were seen with Treize Khushrenada, Une. It makes me very uncomfortable that the head of our recording company is just a pawn of his." Lady Une flipped her long, dark hair over her shoulders and observed him from narrowing eyes. "Treize keeps me very busy. My hands are either full or tied behind my back." "Just make sure his hands aren't on your company. If you fall into his traps, and you know I mean stealing secrets and ruining other companies, you'll end up doing time in jail, or worse. When I employ people as advisors, I will occasionally listen to their advice. You might consider listening to mine this time." "You are not in my employ; it is the other way around, should I record your band. To that end, Prince, I recommend that you mind your band's business. They haven't won the contest yet. Besides, to quote one of your preachy little books, 'I am one with my duality. As I learn to trust the Process, I no longer need to carry a gun.' Can you, Prince, say the same?" She left the backstage, frosting her path with her icy stare.
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