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"Breathless"Written By: Waterliliylf Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. All rights
remain with Bandai, Sotsu and associated parties. No profit being
made here. Rating: R Warnings: sap, angst, fluff Pairings: 3x4, 13x2 Summary: Quatre finds himself introduced to an
annoying young man, one he can't seem to get out of his head. "Breathless" Chapter 14: [In which Trowa practises the rare art of anti-flirtation, and Quatre succumbs.] They washed up together, an pleasantly domestic thing to do, since Trowa didn't have a dishwasher. None of his other boyfriends (possible – potential – purely hypothetical boyfriends) had ever cooked for him before; he usually got taken to expensive restaurants. 'Now what?' Trowa hung his dishcloth on a hook over the sink. 'I'd like to go back outside for a while,' Quatre said finally. 'Do you think I could perhaps meet these dogs of yours?' Trowa gave him a quick, pleased smile and found him a too-big jacket to wear. 'I have to check on them anyway. I promise, I won't let you get eaten.' 'I'll hold you to that.' He still lagged behind as they approached the kennels; it sounded like he had a hundred dogs, rather than ten. It wasn't as bad as he thought it would be; instead of thrusting him inside, Trowa called out a couple of dogs to meet; a greyhound and a black collie-type with blue eyes. 'This is Cleo,' Trowa ruffled the black dog's ears. 'She's an Australian Shepherd; she's the boss.' 'She's lovely. I've never seen a dog with blue eyes before.' The dog graced him with a quick lick and then gazed adoringly up at Trowa. He'd be doing that himself soon, Quatre thought ruefully. 'She's great. Now, come on. You like horses?' 'I love them. Do you have horses too. I didn't know you rode.' 'A bit. They're not really mine. They belong to a circus I used to work at; I'm just looking after them for a couple of months while the owners are touring in the States.' A circus. Ick. Quatre changed the subject quickly to the Arabians one of his elder sisters bred. Otherwise, he'd have nightmares about clowns. There was a llama as well as the horses, and a couple of goats, and a pony that had been abandoned on the motorway. 'You're like Doctor Doolittle or something,' Quatre marvelled, scratching the pony's ears. 'Not quite,' Trowa chuckled, breaking up a handful of carrots and doling them out. 'I have plenty of space here; the city pound can only take so many animals. I usually end up with the ones that need a lot of room. I had a couple of swans last Winter with broken wings, and a fox that had been knocked down. I still see him around sometimes, if I don't have the dogs out with me.' Afterwards, they sat on the porch again, Quatre sprawled in the hammock and Trowa on a chair beside him, giving him the occasional swing, the dogs at their feet. Trowa's world; a million miles from his own. They talked and watched the stars, and Quatre tried not to yawn too loudly. That was the problem with getting up at dawn every day. When Trowa suggested bed, he agreed, not really sure what was being offered. One of the couches? Trowa's bed? Trowa's bed with them both in it? He wasn't sure what he wanted either, which was a rare thing for Quatre Raberba Winner, He still gave Trowa an uncertain glance when Trowa gestured to the stairs and the other man laughed at him. 'It's OK. I'm not expecting you to sleep with me.' 'You said you don't have a guest room.' 'I don't. You can have Duo's room.' He'd half-expected the room to be some sort of Duo-shrine, but really it just looked like someone's junk room. There was a single bed surrounded by piles of books and magazines, and a few pieces of mismatched furniture. It was dark, the sort of darkness that he wasn't really used to at home, where you could still see the streetlights through drawn curtains. The room – Duo's room – was angled so there was no light from downstairs, even though he could still hear Trowa moving about in the kitchen. It was all very unexpected. Very unplanned, for someone who liked to work out the logistics of everything. Trowa was still so much of an unknown quantity. Part of the attraction, Quatre acknowledged honestly. With Wufei, he'd felt in control, except for those first few minutes on the motorbike. That was what he wanted, wasn't it? Someone who clearly thought he was amazing, and had no compunction about showing it. Trowa hadn't made all that much of an effort. From what Quatre had seen, he didn't even know how to flirt, or even how to make himself particularly agreeable. Except he'd shut his dogs out, because he knew Quatre wouldn't be comfortable with them. And he'd invited him into his amazing house and made him feel like he belonged there. 'Shit.' Quatre murmured it into the intense, velvety darkness, so dense it was almost a tangible presence. He'd probably never sworn so much in his life before he'd met Trowa. You wouldn't prefer a partner who treated you like an equal in the relationship? That's what I'd like. Not to be put on a pedestal. People always put him on a pedestal; well, prospective boyfriends did. He was used to being flattered and humoured and indulged, and treated like something terribly precious. Trowa had never done any of those things, and probably never would. Trowa had never even acknowledged that he was attractive. Or not verbally, at least; there was obviously physical desire there. Ugh, he was never going to sleep at this rate. It was so quiet, bar Trowa's clattering downstairs, and one of the dogs – Quatre hoped it wasn't a wolf – howling outside, and then an unearthly sound that he'd never heard before. Oh, God. This place was probably haunted. At least Wufei hadn't brought him into the wilderness to be eaten by wolves. He had an apartment just a few train stations away from where Quatre lived. So much more sensible. He'd had it all planned out. Wufei would be a lovely boyfriend; after all, he'd been dreaming about the man since he'd first seen him. He'd known Trowa for a couple of years, and never given him a second's thought, except as Duo's friend. Definitely more than a friend, at some point, although Trowa had been very careful not to reveal their exact relationship. He'd never said for sure whether or not they'd been lovers. He wondered if Treize knew. It had all been planned. The plan had been to tell Trowa about Wufei, because that was only fair, and depending on Trowa's reaction, they might have been able to stay friends. He did like the man, after all. Mostly. When he wasn't been so deliberately annoying. He'd probably be an easier friend than a boyfriend, and it would please Duo. That had been the plan. And then it had all gone wrong, and Trowa had almost kissed him and then revealed a sliver of his soul and his past and so much pain, with those odd little spurts of humour in amongst it all, and maybe this was how it felt to fall in love, except it was nothing like how he'd felt with Wufei. He'd never felt like that before. He was sitting up in bed, chin resting on his knees and sheets pulled around his shoulder when Trowa came upstairs holding two mugs. He looked amazing. He'd taken off his shoes and that awful polo-neck sweater. In jeans and a tank top, he was seductive as sin. 'Nightcap. You like coffee with Bailey's, right?' 'I'll never sleep if I drink that.' Trowa grinned. 'So? Tomorrow's Sunday. Or do you have somewhere you need to be first thing?' 'No.' He didn't drink coffee very much; it tasted wonderful. Creamy with an alcoholic kick from the liqueur. 'I just like getting up early. Then I have more time to do things.' 'Some things you can do at night, too.' Quatre decided to ignore that. 'What was that awful noise? It sounded like a banshee or something.' 'Just an owl.' The grin broadened. 'You're such a city slicker.' 'I can't help that. And I have been to the countryside before, actually. I've been to Treize's hunting lodge quite a lot. It's horrible; I can't get reception for my phone or internet access or anything.' 'That must be a nightmare,' Trowa deadpanned. 'However did you cope?' 'Thank you for that wholly spurious piece of sympathy.' It was rather nice, discovering Trowa's sense of humour. Something Wufei hadn't revealed yet, under all that romantic intensity. 'I was being genuine,' the other man defended himself. 'Trying to empathise with those impossible periods of your life.' 'Asshole.' Trowa stuck out his tongue. 'Am not.' 'Are too,' Quatre retorted, because he simply had to, and they both burst out laughing. 'You're a surprising sort of person,' Trowa said when they'd both stopped wheezing. 'Sometimes you act like a bratty little kid; sometimes you act like you could run the world if you decided that was what you wanted. I can't figure you out.' Quatre wrapped both hands around his mug and batted his eyelashes. 'I know. It's all part of my charm, don't you think?' 'Oh, here we go,' Trowa raised his eyes to the ceiling. 'Do you actually flirt by instinct, Quatre?' Quatre gave it some consideration. 'I think I probably do, yes. Don't you know how to?' 'I don't get the point of it. If I like someone, I tell them. What's the point in all that stupid playing around and teasing?' 'It's fun! And it's a good way to decide whether someone actually likes you, or whether you like them. I like knowing someone thinks I'm attractive.' The other man snorted into his coffee. 'You know, I wouldn't have thought you'd have problems in that particular area. You don't exactly come across as insecure about your looks.' 'I'm not. Why should I be; I know just what I look like and I like it. Although I'd prefer to be a little bit taller,' he mused. 'What would you change about your appearance?' Trowa shook his head, hair falling into his eyes. The temptation to reach out and sweep it aside was getting stronger. 'I've never thought about it. How do we always end up having these obscure conversations?' 'It's your fault,' Quatre explained patiently. 'I am quite desperately fishing for compliments from you, and you're being very slow on the uptake.' 'Oh.' Trowa's free hand tilted Quatre's chin up and those incredible green eyes stared at him. 'No, Quatre. We're not having this conversation now. Not with you in bed and naked by the looks of it.' Quatre's eyes gleamed. 'Would you like to check?' Trowa flicked his cheek with one finger. 'Stop that. I've told you, I'm not into all that flirty stuff.' 'Maybe I'm not flirting.' 'And maybe it's time we both went to sleep. Separately,' he added quickly. 'Right. You don't find me remotely attractive then.' 'You know damn well that I do. There; I've given you your compliment.' 'Very grudgingly, it sounded like.' 'You're such a brat.' Keeping a hold on his chin, Trowa leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips. 'You're gorgeous, Winner. And you know it, so stop angling for flattery. And stop trying to seduce me, OK?' 'Why? You're the one who just kissed me.' 'We already had this conversation.' The second kiss probed just a little deeper; Trowa's tongue danced briefly over his. 'You've got this Wufei guy, remember him? And I'd rather you didn't do something you'd regret in the morning. Now, are you warm enough? I can get you another blanket.' 'Or you could just get in here and warm me yourself.' Trowa sighed. 'A couple of hours ago, you didn't even like me.' 'I never said I liked you.' Quatre took Trowa's hand and swiped his tongue across the knuckles. 'When I'm with you I feel like all my nerves are on the outside of my body. Does that make sense?' 'Not really? I think maybe I should stop giving you alcohol around now. That sounds damn uncomfortable.' 'It is,' Quatre admitted. 'It's also damn exciting.' 'Not like with the other guy?' 'Not really. It's – easier, with him, a bit. I know he likes me. I suppose I understand him a little bit better.' 'I like you.' 'How much?' 'Enough not just to want a one night stand with you.' Trowa put his mug on the floor. 'Quatre. He sounds like he'll fit into your world. Not like me. You want someone who'll bring you to the opera, and buy you dinner in that bloody pretentious restaurant that you like. Someone you'd want your family to meet.' 'How the hell can you possibly know what I want?' Quatre demanded. He hadn't let Trowa's hand go. Turning it palm up, he pressed a kiss to the centre. The skin was very tanned, with a few small scratches. 'I'm not even sure myself.' 'Have you ever heard of the phrase honest to a fault?' 'Once or twice. Have you ever heard that some people actually believe in expressing their emotions? Why wouldn't I want my family to meet you?' 'I'm sure Duo's given you a few clues. You really think your parents would want their son involved with someone like me?' 'Duo's been to parties in my parents' house. They adore him.' 'Everyone adores him. It's like a law of physics or something. I'm not exactly up there on the lovable scale.' 'Well, you think you're not,' Quatre allowed. 'Or rather, you're trying very hard to convince yourself of it.' 'Is that what this is about? You're on some sort of mission to convince me there's love in the world for everyone. Dream on, Winner. I've never believed in fairytales.' 'Ack, you're about as lovable as a rabid dog, do you know that?' Quatre said crossly.'And as romantic.' 'Again with the sweet nothings?' Trowa teased. 'You're too good to me, Quatre.' He grabbed the arm Quatre had raised by the wrist, twisting it. 'Don't do that. Seriously. Don't threaten me.' 'Let me go!' 'Not if you're going to take a swing at me.' 'You're hurting me!' 'Sorry.' Trowa released him abruptly. 'I'm sorry, OK?' Quatre nodded, rubbing his wrist. It had been his own fault really; pushing like that. Trowa stood up abruptly, hair sweeping across his face and hiding the expression in his eyes. 'I've been trying to tell you, Quatre. I'm not a very nice guy.' 'That's what you want people to think, certainly. I'm not sure if it's true, though. Duo's told me some things about you. That you rescue dogs that are due to be put down and find homes for them. That you've trained two of your own and take them to visit people in hospitals and homes for the elderly. Why do you do all that if you're such a horrible person?' 'Duo talks too much.' Trowa folded his arms across his chest. Classic defence posture. 'Well, everyone knows that,' Quatre said briskly. 'To be specific, why are you suddenly trying to convince me you're no good for me?' 'Like I said, I like you.' 'Of course. And that would be why you don't want a relationship with me. That makes such sense, Trowa.' 'You don't do sarcasm very well, do you? Listen. It's complicated. I'm shit at relationships. If Duo's told you so much about me, he's probably mentioned that tiny factor. And you're his friend. When I hurt you, he'll be pissed at me. I don't want that.' 'What?' Quatre stared at him. 'You're breaking up with me for a purely hypothetical reason? That's insane! What does Duo have to do us? He wants us to get together – God, he's practically been shoving me at you!' 'Let it go,' Trowa said it softly. 'It's hardly breaking up since we were never together. It just wouldn't work.' 'Fine!' Quatre pushed himself against the headboard, crossing his arms in an exact imitation of Trowa. 'If you're so determined to do this – this anti-flirtation, I can do it too! You're not the only one who isn't perfect, you know. I'm totally spoiled; I expect to get my own way all the time and I'm an utter control freak. I'm criminally untidy, I'm never on time for anything and I constantly have to be the centre of attention. And I do not take kindly to being dumped by someone who didn't even have the decency to ask me out in the first place. So there!' Trowa's mouth curved into what looked like a very reluctant smile. 'You left out stubborn, self-absorbed and highly demanding.' 'You seem like a moderately perceptive person. I thought you could work some things out for yourself. That's who I am, Trowa. I'm also highly intelligent, loyal and utterly devoted to my friends.' 'You left out a couple of other things. Like seriously attractive.' 'Self evident.' 'Modest.' 'Ditto.' 'Too smart for your own good,' Trowa muttered. 'Very desirable. Funny. You care about people, don't you? Duo, Treize; they've told you stuff that most people wouldn't know.' Quatre nodded. 'I wouldn't be any good for you. Trust me on that.' 'Huh. You just broke up with me, and now you want me to trust you. No, thanks.' 'You'd be way better off with Mr. Art Historian. He'd probably write you odes comparing your eyes to cerulean summer skies or something before he screwed you.' One hand toyed with the first button on his jeans. 'Are you sure about this?' This. Quatre wasn't even sure what this was. He'd invited someone he barely knew into his bed. He wasn't sure what Trowa expected, or what, exactly he was willing to offer. He had Wufei. Correction; he had the possibility of Wufei; neither of them had made any commitments, and Wufei didn't have that deep ache of loneliness. In the end, he didn't answer verbally; just shifted over in the small bed, making room. 'You are utterly fixated on people writing me poetry for some reason. And why do you automatically assume that I'd be the one on the bottom?' Trowa switched off the light before undressing and then scootched down in the bed and drew Quatre beside him. It was a small bed. 'If I was stupid enough to answer that, you'd hit me for real. I don't know.' 'For the record, I happen to like being on top.' 'For the record, so do I.' 'I don't mind sharing some things.' 'I do. I don't bottom, Quatre. Not for anyone.' 'I bet you'd like it, with me.' 'No.' 'If you've never tried it, how do you know you don't like it?' 'I never said I'd never tried it.' It was scary, actually; that a voice could be that devoid of any expression, of any shading whatsoever. Such awful bleakness. There was nothing he could say to that that wouldn't
come across as trite or patronising or inane. Instead, he hitched
his arm a little tighter around Trowa's waist, and rested his cheek
on Trowa's chest, listening to his heart beating.
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