"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 22:

In which Wufei ponders the mysteries of attraction to two very different people….

Shyness had never been one of Chang Wufei's most common characteristics.

He'd been a precocious, much loved small boy who'd grown up surrounded by an enormous, indulgent family. Intelligence and ambition had gained him a Doctorate in Art History and two years working in Paris for one of the world's most famous galleries. It had also garnered him plenty of male attention. None of the relationships had lasted particularly long, but they had been fun while they had lasted, and he had managed to stay friends with several exes.

He'd always assumed, however - because he was, deep down, a romantic – that at some point he'd meet his soul-mate.

Nowhere in any of that, was there any reason for shyness.

And then he'd seen a blond dancing at a nightclub and that, quite simply, had been that.

It had never occurred to him for one second that the other man – the tall one with long blond hair – hadn't been his blond's partner. They'd been dancing far too closely for just friends and they'd even kissed briefly on the lips at one point.

The whole episode had sent Wufei spiralling into a wholly uncharacteristic bout of self doubt and depression.

He'd met the perfect person, Mr. Perfect, as Heero had dubbed him, and that person was with somebody else.

At first, of course, it had been pure lust. The first time he'd seen Quatre, Quatre dancing, he hadn't been able to keep his eyes off him, and had forced himself to write it off as a purely physical reaction to a glowingly beautiful young man.

Then he'd started seeing Quatre on the train.

He'd heard little snatches of conversation as the blond sat on the train, so tantalisingly close and usually glued to his 'phone. He always seemed to be rushing off somewhere, always late, always laughingly apologetic as he rang people to say he was just on his way.

Every time he'd seen his Mr. Perfect, he'd manage to amass another detail or two. He liked Lewis Carroll; he smiled like an angel; he seemed to be biologically linked to his BlackBerry; he had superb dress sense and obviously loved clothes.

Then there'd been the date. The date that had been utterly perfect and the certainty that Mr. Quatre Winner, Mr Perfect in the flesh, was quite undoubtedly The One.

And none of it had meant anything, because a few days later Quatre had told him that there was someone else.

Even then, he'd been able to convince himself that this other relationship wouldn't last. Quatre had let slip a few things about Trowa. He was an idiot, for a start. Someone like Quatre deserved constant attention; instead, the adorable little blond seemed to be spending most evenings alone, or with one or other of his sisters or his multitude of friends.

Somewhere, over the past few days, he'd built up a mental picture of what Barton would be like. A friend of a friend, Quatre had told him, and the friend had set them up in the first place.

That was so Quatre, not wanting to disappoint someone. He was ridiculously soft-hearted, really. People probably took advantage of that.

His mental vision of Trowa comprised of a lonely, older man, living alone, and too stupid to realise what a treasure had fallen into his arms. Not a mistake Wufei would ever make, when he got Quatre back.

All of that, of course, was before he'd actually met Trowa.

He'd goaded the tall man into the race, never expecting that they'd end up having so much sheer fun. Wufei had been brought up to behave with discipline and dignity at all times, particularly in public. His job, of course, demanded a certain level of decorum. With Heero, in heated sparring sessions or bike rides, he'd let go of all that, and then he'd done it with Barton.

Done it in every sense of the word, he thought ruefully. Well, not exactly. It had only been a kiss. Only. But, damn, he'd felt so alive out there; just the two of them challenging each other, and then that kiss.

Barton had been utterly, compellingly furious. Wufei had been pretty much thrown out of the truck with a curt warning to stay away from him in the future.

It had been a mistake. Of course. Gods, he'd never meant it to happen; not Quatre's partner of all people in the universe. It was facile to claim that it had just happened, a patently ridiculous excuse, but it had. There hadn't, he thought, been any particular thought processes at work, but Trowa had been there, so close, and he still wasn't sure which of them had made the first move.

He'd never kissed Quatre; just a brief kiss on the cheek when he dropped him home, after their date.

There was on sign of Heero in the bar, but Quatre was at the centre of a large group. As usual, he was sparkling like sunlight on spun gold, but it seemed a little contrived today. The smile seemed more fixed than normal and his eyes weren't that aquamarine colour they took on when he was laughing.

Auto-sparkle, Wufei decided.

When he saw Wufei, he said something to his friends that had them all falling about the place laughing and slipped away.

The smile he gave Wufei was real.

'Don't you ever get tired? Of being such a social butterfly?'

'Sometimes. Is it time for your race yet? Where's Trowa?'

'The race is over.'

'What? Zechs said they'd have to postpone it because of the weather. Did I really miss it? Who won?'

Wufei reddened slightly. He supposed he had, officially; at least, he'd won the private race between himself and Trowa. And claimed the prize.

'I don't think anyone did. It was a bit of a fiasco. Trowa and I went off the course in the rain and his bike had an accident.'

'Is he all right? Where is he?'

'He's fine. Really. He just had a few scrapes and bruises. He's gone to get his bike; it was damaged and we had to leave it out there on the course. I drove him back here.'

Stop babbling, Chang.

'Thank you for looking after him,' Quatre said gently.

'That's all right.' They were smiling at each other, suddenly. 'Can I get you a drink?'

He'd asked Quatre that question before, the first night they'd spoken to each other. Trowa wasn't here now, and Quatre nodded.

'That would be lovely. Just orange juice; I'm driving. And a straw, please. A blue one.'

'Of course,' Wufei nodded. 'You want me to ask for a soft drink, complete with straw in a bar full of leather-clad bikers. Would you like a cherry or a paper umbrella as well? If I'm to be beaten up, it may as well be for something big.'

'Oh, I'm sure you can take care of yourself.' Quare twinkled up at him. 'And it could be worse. At least I didn't ask for a pink straw!'

The rain had finally eased off when Wufei came back with their drinks; but the skies were still ominous enough to keep most of the other drinkers indoors. They found a table on the terrace outside and had the place to themselves.

'Did you have a nice day yesterday?'

Quatre shrugged, taking a gulp of his drink. 'Some of it was fun. I hardly got to see Trowa at all though. He was working for most of the day and when he came back he had to see to his million pets, and then get his bike ready for today.' He gave another little shrug.

God, Trowa had to be clinically insane. He'd had Quatre Winner to himself for a whole day, and he spent it tinkering with a machine. Madness.

'I like the biker look, by the way.' He liked it a lot. Dark jeans that fitted just perfectly to his slender legs, and a teal-coloured jacket in such fine leather it looked like silk. The clothes an Armani model might wear to advertise the latest model of Harley.

'Really?' Quatre had, obviously, to be more than used to compliments but he still looked pleased. 'Thank you. I don't think Trowa even noticed. He never said anything.'

'Trowa's an idiot, then.' That won him another little smile. 'How are things?'

'Oh, I don't know. It's always difficult at the start of a relationship, isn't it? When you're still getting to know one another.'

'I think that's meant to be the fun part,' Wufei offered.

Quatre sniffed, twirling his tongue around his straw. Oh, Gods. 'It usually is, yes. Especially if the other person is remotely interested in you, or willing to share even the tiniest piece of information about himself.'

'Ah.'

He was, Wufei reminded himself sternly, a man of strict morals and possessed of a stringent code of honour. He had already done enough damage for one day, to this couple, without taking Quatre in his arms and kissing him the way he needed to be kissed.

'It takes time, sometimes,' he said slowly. 'Some people aren't all that comfortable with sharing confidences.'

'Confidences, yes. I do understand that. But he doesn't like talking about anything remotely personal. If he doesn't trust me even the slightest, I don't know why he wants to be with me in the first place. I don't even know if it's serious for him.'

'If it isn't, then he's a fool.'

One corner of Quatre's mouth curved up, kissably. 'You just called him an idiot. What did you think of him?'

An excellent question.

Passionate and darkly intense and grouchy and sexy as original sin. All wrapped up in that body and with those amazing green, gold-washed eyes. There had even been a scattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose that just begged to be kissed.

Then he realised he hadn't answered the question and that Quatre was looking at him quizzically, head canted to one side. 'Really? I didn't think he'd be your type.'

'Likewise.' Wufei slanted an eyebrow upwards. 'I can….certainly see the attraction though. Anyone could. Is it so obvious I was attracted?'

'I can …sometimes…feel things,' Quatre said, unusually tentative for him. 'Other people's feelings, emotions.'

'Empathy. Really?'

'Something like that. Does it bother you?'

'Why should it? I don't have anything to hide.'

Not true, entirely, but if Quatre couldn't read minds, then he couldn't know about the kiss, and Wufei had already confessed the attraction was there.

Quatre's face lit up. 'Thank you. It bothers some people.'

'Quatre.' Wufei put one hand over his. 'The only thing that could possibly bother me about you is that someone else got you first. I am rather curious. How does it work? Can you control it at all? Or do you mind talking about it?'

'No, I don't mind. It's hard to explain. Sometimes, I just know things. I know how a friend of mine feels about his partner and how terribly depressed he'd been before they met. It's like…you know sometimes you're on the 'phone and it's a bad line, and almost you can hear someone in the background, like an echo but you don't know if it's just you imagining it, or if it really is someone else or if there's a problem with your friend's phone. It's rather like that. I'm hardly ever really sure if I'm actually picking up on other people's emotions, or just imagining them, or whether I'm trying to convince myself about something. It's not very reliable.'

'But sometimes you just know?'

Quatre nodded. 'It's very rare, really. Sometimes, it doesn't happen for months and months and I think maybe I'd only ever imagined it.'

'And with Trowa?'

'I can feel things. Sometimes.' Those long lashes fluttered over his eyes, as he glanced down at his hands, linked around his glass. When he looked up, the smile was determinedly in place. 'You know, my mother always says that I was brought up with so many sisters that I developed feminine intuition by osmosis.'

Wufei smiled obligingly. 'Does Trowa know?'

'I haven't told him, no. Not yet.' He took a gulp of his juice, and followed it up with a definite subject change. 'Have you seen Heero and Zechs since you got back? Zechs wanted to take some photos of Heero; they went off to find somewhere quiet.'

'Really? Why does he need to photograph Heero? I thought the portrait was just supposed to be of Relena.'

'No, I think it's of them both.' Quatre shrugged, looking up and his face suddenly glowed. 'There's Trowa!'

It was odd, seeing the two of them together; the blond all sparkly and solicitous, and Trowa brushing off his concern but his expression slightly softened whenever he looked at his boyfriend.. He hadn't bothered to change out of his wet clothes; Quatre was exclaiming over his torn, muddy jacket and reaching up a hand to touch the seal-sleek hair plastered to his skull, and Trowa was letting him fuss. He ignored Wufei completely.

Fortunately, Zechs Merquise turned up before Quatre had time to notice. He wrapped Quatre in a hug that made Wufei want to hit him, and, looking at Trowa's expression, the other man apparently felt the same way.

'Trowa,' Zechs finally let Quatre go and grinned. 'Congratulations. You haven't just turned our Quatre into a biker babe, you actually managed to keep him at home on a Saturday night when he'd been invited to a party. I think that must be a world record.'

'Don't be silly, Zechs,' Quatre said briskly. 'Now, do I don't think you've met Wufei, have you?'

The tall man – Wufei had decided he looked like a Viking god the first time he'd seen him, and the description still fit perfectly – swivelled around. 'Not properly, no.' He took Wufei's hand in his. 'A pleasure. Now, why in God's name don't I know you? Where have you been hiding yourself?'

'I've been living in France for the last couple of years,' Wufei explained.

'Zechs has been to a couple of your lectures at the gallery,' Quatre chipped in happily. 'And Wufei adores your paintings, Zechs. You know, you really should paint him.'

Oh, for Gods' sake. Now he was trying to match-make.

'I would….adore to. Let's see.' His fingers were cold as they brushed Wufei's skin, tilting his chin slightly upwards. 'Oh, yes. Will you sit for me? Please?'

He heard someone – Trowa – snicker quietly, and Quatre was saying what a wonderful idea that was.

Zechs was charming and graceful and handsome and one of Wufei's favourite modern artists and didn't seem to have the faintest idea that he was the wrong blond. Wufei responded mechanically to all comments – he knew Wufei's friend Meiran, he was a friend of Heero's fiancée Relena, while frantically eavesdropping on the other two.

'If you wanted to go out last night, then you should have just said,' Trowa was saying.

'If I'd wanted to go out, then I would have,' Quatre shot back, a little edge of impatience in his voice that Wufei hadn't heard before. 'But I didn't. What's wrong? I'm sorry I missed seeing your race, honestly.'

Trowa snorted, and Wufei shook his head slightly, which Zechs took for a little piece of charming modesty. He'd been paying Wufei the most ridiculously extravagant compliments.

'You seemed to have your hands full with Heero, the last time I saw you.'

'Oh, Trowa!' Quatre bubbled happily. 'Are you jealous?' He didn't sound terribly put out; if anything, he sounded like he rather liked the idea of it.

'Maybe.'

'But it's so absurd. I promise you, I'm not the one Heero's interested in.' He trilled with laughter.

Trowa snorted. 'You could have fooled me. Zechs is gay. And he was practically salivating over you when he walked in.'

'Well, he always does that. He wants me to pose for a painting. A nude painting; he's been pestering me for weeks.'

'You're not doing it!'

'Ooh!' Quatre gave him a sneaky little glance through his eyelashes and took his arm. 'Are you actually forbidding me to do something? That's so masterful!'

'I'd forbid you to flirt with other guys in public if I thought it would do any good.'

'It probably wouldn't,' Quatre said thoughtfully, squeezing his arm. 'I'm really sorry I didn't see your race.'

'Not much to see, except me falling on my ass in the mud.' Trowa dragged a hand through his wet hair. 'Would you mind if we headed off? I'm soaked.'

'Oh, poor Trowa. Of course we can go. I just need to say goodbye to everyone.'

'Fine.' Trowa sounded resigned to a good hour of Quatre making farewells. 'I'd really appreciate it if you could do that without making any sort of physical contact.'

'I'll try.' Quatre lowered his voice; Wufei, fortunately had excellent hearing. 'Maybe I could restrain myself if I could be sure of physical contact once we get home?'

'That's it,' Trowa was on his feet suddenly, looming over Quatre and hauling him up. 'Come on, you.' Wufei abruptly revised his impression that Trowa hadn't a clue how to handle his boyfriend. 'Gentlemen, we're leaving. Enjoy the rest of the day.'

'Mmm.' Zechs took a long swallow of his drink and smiled over at Wufei. 'He's delicious when he goes all dominant, isn't he? Wednesday, then?'

'I'm sorry. Wednesday what?'

'Dinner. I'll collect you.' He was on his feet suddenly and Wufei was enveloped in a cloud of swirling blond hair as Zechs swooped down to drop a quick kiss on his cheek. 'I still want to paint you, by the way. Perhaps for dessert?'

Wufei was still staring morosely into the depths of his drink when Heero finally wandered back.

'Where did you get to?'

'I had to make some calls. Why are you staring at your beer like that? Is it doing something unusual?'

'This whole damn day is unusual. People keep kissing me.'

'Well, that's good, isn't it?' Heero pulled up a chair and sat down, signalling a waiter. 'Who kissed you? Quatre?'

'Trowa.'

'I don't know who Trowa is. Do you think they have any kind of sports drinks here? Or would it be all right for me to have one beer if I'm driving?'

'Heero,' Wufei peered closely at his friend; Heero wasn't normally this….giddy. 'Are you all right? Trowa is Quatre's boyfriend. And speaking of Quatre, why were you all over him earlier?'

'Was I?' Heero leaned over to take a gulp of Wufei's drink. 'I've been dying to meet the person you've been raving about. He's perfect for you, by the way; I can understand what you see in him. And I do realise he's off limits.' He frowned suddenly. 'What do you mean, Trowa kissed you? Don't you mean Quatre? He's the one you like.'

'Well, apparently, I like them both,' Wufei said glumly. 'And Zechs Merquise just asked me out for dinner. Well, actually he told me.' Or maybe he had agreed; he hadn't really been paying any attention to what Zechs had been saying, too caught up in watching Trowa and Quatre.

He gave his head a vigorous shake; Gods, he had to find some way to exorcise that scene.. The image of the two of them leaving the bar was apparently superimposed on his corneas; Trowa with his head slightly bent to listen to whatever the blond was saying, and Quatre talking animatedly. They'd looked so right together.

Both so right for him in their very different ways. Trowa's masculinity was every bit as attractive as Quatre' s adorable affectedness.

 

~ * ~

Chapter 23

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