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"Firsts"Written By: Waterlilylf Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. All rights
remain with Bandai, Sotsu and associated parties. No profit being
made here. Rating: R Warnings: Yaoi, Post Cannon, sap, angst Pairings: 3x2 Summary: How do you get past losing the love of your life, the person you fell in love with when you were just fifteen? Trowa desperately needs someone special in his life, even if he hasn't quite realised it yet..
"Firsts"
First Dance: He'd been to nightclubs. Naturally. Everyone had. Never with Quat, equally naturally. The Winners had given them a fairly long leash, but with definite limits. Their brother being seen at a gay club would very definitely have been a limit. He'd gone out with Cathy and friends from the circus, sometimes, after a show; a few times, he'd been dragged along with colleagues on a night out, and of course, he'd gone by himself, more than a few times, and stayed long enough to down a couple of drinks and size up the local talent, and make eye contact with someone who usually looked a bit like Quat, and then jerk his head at the bathrooms or the back door. It usually hadn't taken more than that. He'd gone to the sort of clubs where no one expected more. This was the first time he'd ever gone out clubbing with just one person. With a boyfriend or partner or whatever. He dithered over clothes like a teenager on a first date with his first crush, and then laughed at his own silliness and just pulled on the first things that came to hand. Silver-washed black jeans with a decent belt and a fitted t-shirt, with a black dress shirt on top. That would cover pretty much any dress codes. Duo'd just said a club, which could have meant anything from leather harnesses and leashes (probably not, realistically, although you never knew) to drag queens and glittery eye-shadow. He'd got the dress code right anyway. Duo opened his apartment door in tight jeans and a swirly, silky shirt patterned in jade and sapphire, with a tank top underneath. Very nice, even if a part of his brain had been indulging little fantasies of Duo in leather and mesh. 'Hey.' 'Hey yourself'. He got a kiss and a smile as Duo gestured to his bare toes. 'So, come in for a sec? I just need to get my jacket and shoes, and you can look around, which will take approximately thirty seconds.' The apartment was just as small as Duo had said. An estate agent would say it was compact and cosy; he still remembered the lingo from his own apartment-hunting days. Trowa thought it was a cramped and claustrophobic shoebox. The sitting room was nice enough, if definitely on the small side. Duo's personality was stamped vividly on a fairly neutral palette of white walls, gleaming wooden floor, dark blue armchairs and fabrics. The flea market bookcase, newly sanded and varnished, fit neatly into an alcove, packed with brightly-jacketed sci-fi novels, and every surface was crammed with an assortment of Duo's tat; ancient cameras and radios and something he was fairly sure was an old typewriter. The tiny balcony, not more than an overgrown window-ledge, just about had space for the chair they'd bought, topped with bright cushions and a couple of neatly-folded blankets. The flowers spilling over the dining-table were the one odd note, presumably a house-warming gift from someone who didn't know Duo very well: an elaborate monstrosity of white roses and orchids and a few bare, silver-sprayed branches which reached almost to the ceiling. Trowa shook his head at those, making a mental note to buy a moving-house gift of his own, and went on exploring. The rest of the place was ridiculous. The kitchen and bathroom were glorified cupboards; the bathroom didn't even have a shower, just a hand-held attachment above the sink. The bedroom only had a narrow single bed, and an even narrower wardrobe and about one square foot of floor space. 'So. Home sweet home,' Duo commented brightly when he walked back into the sitting room after the grand tour of about twenty seconds. Duo had overestimated the size of the place. 'What d'you think?' 'I know you said it was small, but God, you couldn't even swing a half-starved kitten in here.' 'Lucky I don't have a kitten, so,' Duo said levelly. 'It's not that bad, really.' Trowa lifted a sceptical eyebrow. 'Come on, Duo. Those bloody flowers take up half your sitting room for a start. Who the hell sent you those?' 'Oh.' Duo bent down to retie a perfectly neat shoelace. 'Um. Heero actually.' 'Heero? As in Heero the guy you've broken up with?' 'That one, yes,' Duo spoke with slow, exaggerated patience and then turned a scowl around the room, bypassing the damn flowers and settling on Trowa. 'What? Not like I asked for them, and he's off somewhere in space and I can't get hold of him to tell him I don't want them, so I don't really know exactly what you want me to do.' Trowa could think of any number of things, starting with bonfires and disposal units. Acid. Instead, he forced the grimace on his face into something approximating a smile. 'Sorry. He doesn't have great taste, does he?' 'They're hideous, right?' Duo said eagerly. 'And who knew you're not supposed to eat the berries on those arrangements?' 'Everyone,' Trowa said flatly. 'They're decorative. You didn't.' 'Didn't what?' Duo straightened. 'Eat 'em? Sure did, on my breakfast cereal. Spent an hour spewing my guts out.' 'You did what? Duo, you need to see a doctor!' 'Aw, chillax,' Duo waved a negligent hand. 'I saw Sally when I got in to work. She gave me some stuff. Called me a moron in about a hundred different ways.' Trowa shook his head. 'God, I don't blame her. You are. Lucky you've got your looks going for you.' 'What are you saying; that I'm dumb but I'm hot?' 'Pretty much.' Trowa caught hold of his belt and reeled him in, enjoying the teasing. Duo would have decked him for saying something like that a few weeks ago. He liked how easy they could be with each other now. 'No, check that. Really hot. We could just stay in, you know.' 'Nope,' Duo said smartly. 'We had a deal. Let's go. D'you fancy anything special for dinner? I thought we could walk down to the harbour; you know that new development? It's only a couple blocks from here if you go through the park, and there're tonnes of places to eat. We could sit outside, maybe.' 'Sounds good.' Most places were packed, on a Friday night and they ended up wandering around for a couple of hours, snacking on odds and ends. Slices of pizza and samosas and cartons of Thai noodles, with doughnuts and frozen yoghurt for dessert. They finally found a free table in a waterfront bar, and sat for a couple of beers, watching the world go by. It was good; a nice buzz going on, and Duo across the table, bright-eyed and laughing. Two guys out on a date. Good craft beers and the prospect of dancing and sex after. Not bad at all. Duo nudged his foot under the table. 'Look at you, all smiley.' 'Am I?' 'Yeah. Wasn't sure this'd be your kind of place.' Trowa shrugged. 'I've never been here before. I didn't know it existed. It all used to be warehouses, wasn't it?' 'It's been like this a couple years now. You really don't get out much, do you?' 'Probably not,' Trowa admitted. Not at all, really. He'd spent the last two years, more or less, locked away in his tower and brooding on his lost love. Just what Quatre had asked him not to do, and it hadn't really accomplished anything, except to make Quat feel bad. (An end in itself, if you got down to it.) 'This is nice, though.' Mellow red-brick buildings and swans drifting serenely past and a couple of buskers playing a violin and a cello, not too badly. He did like it. All Duo's influence, really. If he'd been by himself, he'd just have ignored this crowded place, walked fast through it, and wondered why the hell anyone would want to be somewhere like this, when they could find a quiet place and be alone. 'So, this club we're going to. What's it like?' Duo took a swig of his beer, leaving a neat little line of froth above his lip. He took his time licking it off. 'Just your sort of place. Total sex dungeon. I'll need to go home and change first. Get my collar and shit.' 'Really?' ''Course not.' Duo grinned impishly. 'You disappointed? It's just a nightclub, Tro. Pretty chilled, really. Good mix of people; good music. They have live bands at the weekend.' He put his empty glass down, and reached over to squeeze Trowa's shoulder. You're not remotely keen, are you? We don't have to. We can just have another drink and go home.' There it was; the perfect out. Duo'd been looking forward to it, though, and he had agreed to go. 'It's OK. We can go for a bit. I'm just not into the whole club scene.' 'Nor am I, really. I've been to some pretty terrible pick up joints. Total meat markets. Just to find someone, you know?' 'I know,' Trowa said grimly. He'd been to places like that, often enough. He knew what they were like. And God, he could just imagine Duo, who was oddly innocent considering everything, walking into those sorts of places; the sort of reception he'd get. 'Yeah, well,' Duo shrugged. 'This is just a bar, really, with a dance-floor. I've been a couple times with people from work. It's cool. We don't have to stay long; one drink, OK?' It was all right, really, he thought when they got there. A long, polished wood bar with brass fittings; deep, overstuffed couches arranged around low tables. And it was pretty obvious Duo had been there before; the bouncer waved them through straightaway, and the barman ignored a line of customers to take his order. 'Pay for these, would you?' Duo gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. 'Going to the little boys' room. Back in a minute.' It took him ten, but every one had been well spent, Trowa thought, watching him sashay back through the crowd. He'd taken off the shirt and rolled it up and wrapped it 'round his hips like a belt. He'd spent some time in front of a mirror too; lip gloss that reflected the lights at the bar, shimmering, and black eyeliner and a smear of glitter across his cheeks and collar bones. 'Wow.' 'You like?' 'Oh, I totally like,' Trowa assured him. 'Come here.' Duo sidestepped neatly. 'Uh huh. Dance time. C'mon.' He grabbed Trowa's hand and pulled him off his stool. As Duo had said, the music was good. Vaguely Celtic with a decent rhythm, played with verve by the four musicians on stage. And dancing with Duo was way beyond good. Trowa took his cue from the other dancers; most of them were keeping it fairly clean. A bit of kissing and plenty of body contact but nothing beyond that. Nothing like places he'd been in, with full-on screwing going on against the walls. He was actually sorry when an interval was announced. 'You enjoyed that, huh?' Duo teased, looking at his expression. 'Yeah.' Trowa sank half his beer in one go; it was good too, a decent craft brew. One good thing about being able to walk to back to Duo's; they could both drink for a change. 'The music was great, you were right about that.' Duo nodded, looking pleased. 'They have all sorts of different bands. They've been good, every time I've been here. So, you've stuck it out for way longer than we said. You want to go?' 'If you don't mind, yeah. I wouldn't mind coming back some time, but I'd kind of like some privacy for a bit.' 'Really?' Duo sparkled at him, all shiny glitter and shimmering lips and that huge smile. 'What do you want privacy for?' 'Work it out, Maxwell.' He slid one hand down Duo's spine, letting it rest on the curve of his hip. 'Oh, one of those work-outs, huh?' 'Not exactly.' He leaned in and took Duo's earlobe in his teeth, nipping gently and then washing his tongue over it. 'You remember what we talked about this morning, right? You were going to fuck me?' There's a streetlight directly outside Duo's bedroom window; the thin blinds don't even pretend to keep the glare out. No chance in hell of being able to fall back asleep. Probably a good thing. He can focus on the light; on Duo's breathing. It's Duo in bed with him. Legs entangled; hair soft against his skin. Duo. Not anyone else. Duo hadn't been the person in his dream, and it genuinely takes effort to remember that. It hadn't been Duo with him. He'd liked being underneath just fine during the actual event; everything in the entire universe distilled to Duo moving over him and in him, and then that final explosion and the world's edges fraying. They'd fallen asleep wrapped around each other, and he'd woken not thinking of Duo at all. He's forgotten the aftermath of sex is somewhat less than pleasant, if you're the one on the bottom. Bloody awful, in fact. Damn. Maybe they should have used a condom; he's never done it bare before and now he does finally get why Duo bitches sometimes about leaking. Breathe. He has things to focus on; little things to clutch at for sanity. Duo's breathing, deep and even. The light, outside. It's not dark, this time, and it's quiet, considering the apartment is in a pretty central location. There's light; there's no one outside; there's Duo, and it takes an effort not to cling to him physically because that would only wake him up. It's Duo. Not - anyone else. It's quiet, no scuffling or sniggering outside the door. Duo, he reminds himself, although it's something of an effort. Duo. His friend. Boyfriend. He'd wanted it. Duo would never hurt him. He tries to count his breaths, loses track somewhere after seven hundred because he can't really focus, and then starts to lose the very tenuous strands of control he's been clinging to. The room is too damn small; the walls closing in around him, and it's too dark, and the other man in the bed is far too close, and his body is very painfully aware of having been fucked and he needs space, he needs to be able to breathe... He just about keeps it together enough to slide carefully out of bed, without waking Duo, feeling his way to the door and then the bathroom. Fiddling with the shower-head yields either a slow, relentless drip of scalding water, or occasional fast spurts of cold. He has to contort himself over the sink even to get wet. He does his best to clean up, cursing Duo in his head for not having a place with even a half-decent bathroom when all he wants is a proper shower, to be able to feel clean, to wash off the smell of sex and another man's lust. He'd never been able to clean up properly, after. He'd had to go back to his bunk; to other men's bunks, sometimes, sore and stinking of sex and never really clean. Pointless even to try, when it was only going to keep happening. After he vomits, he rinses his mouth out and brushes his teeth with a finger and a squeeze of Duo's minty toothpaste. Oddly, that helps; the clean tingling in his mouth. He splashes cold water on his face and that helps too. At least, he's properly aware of where he is for the first time since he woke. He's definitely here, in Duo's shitty little apartment. His brain seems to have settled on that; no more flickering of realities. He does know where he is. No more shifting of past and present. He's awake and aware and he just wants to go home. On the way back to the bedroom to find his clothes- all three or so steps of it - he stubs his toe, hard, on the door-frame, and really does curse out loud. 'Tro? You OK?' Damn. He's awake too. Trowa had wanted nothing more than to find enough clothes to be half-decent and get out, without waking Duo. 'Broke my damn foot,' he snaps, turning on the light as they're both awake now, and looking down at Duo in the ridiculous little bed. 'And you broke my damn ass. And my back.' 'Sorry,' Duo offers, sounding a bit uncertain. 'Sure you are,' Trowa grumbles, refusing to be mollified, even when Duo pulls him down and sits up beside him. He does rather like Duo's head on his shoulder though, Duo's hair spreading over his bare arm. Maybe a small bed has some advantages. Then a door slams next door; there are very unmistakable and graphic signs of someone using a toilet, and then the shitty pop music starts. Damn, the walls here must be made of cardboard. 'This place is a dump, Duo. Why the fuck couldn't you at least find somewhere with a decent bathroom?' 'It's not that bad,' Duo says evenly. 'I've stayed in way worse places actually.' 'Yeah, me too, but the war's over. I don't get how the hell the guy who owns this place lives here full time.' 'He doesn't, really. Him and his girlfriend have a house out by the lake; he just stays here a few nights a week if he's working late. He was saying he'll probably sell it when he gets back; said I could have first refusal if I wanted.' 'Well, you don't want,' Trowa says smartly, as the unseen neighbour starts to clatter pots and pans. 'It's a dump. Shit! What the fuck is your neighbour doing now? It's the middle of the night; is he seriously going to start cooking?' 'He works shifts,' Duo explains. 'And you just had a shower, you know. You ever think you might have been waking someone up? You used to live in an apartment; you must have heard your neighbours sometimes.' 'I lived in an actual apartment; not a freaking dog kennel.' 'Not everyone can live in his own lighthouse, you know. Not everyone even wants to.' 'I get that, but you could have somewhere better. A place with an actual shower, for a start. Fuck, Duo. You can afford better than this dump.' It doesn't make sense, Duo wanting to live here. It isn't like he has expensive taste in food or clothes, or any extravagant hobbies to eat up his salary. His jeep is ancient; he's obviously well familiar with scrounging around flea markets and the like; his 'phone and laptop are the Preventer-issued crap Une budgets for, knowing most agents will end up using their own, far superior models. 'No, I can't actually afford anything better,' Duo says tightly. 'I send money to this orphanage on L2. I have a standing order. I kind of think that's more important than me living it up in some penthouse. I'm sorry if it's not good enough for you.' Oh, shit. All of a piece, really, with how this has been going since waking up. He thinks he manages to mutter some kind of apology before he stumbles out of the room. He ends up on the balcony, shrugging one of the rugs around his shoulders because it's cold. He just wants to go home, but he doesn't have any clothes and he doesn't want to go back inside and face Duo. Duo leaves him out there for long enough to calm down a bit, to start feeling genuinely sorry, and to curse himself savagely for being a fucking idiot. When he does come out, he's dressed and holding two mugs of tea. The only way there's room for two on the balcony is to sit on Trowa's lap. Trowa takes the tea with one hand, and wraps the other firmly around Duo. 'Sorry.' ''S'OK,' Duo says mildly. 'So. You want to talk about whatever that was?' No. No way in hell. He has Duo cuddled up to him though; in the stark light of the streetlamp, he can see the concern etched on Duo's face. 'I didn't really hurt you, did I?' he asks hesitantly. 'I mean, you seemed to be pretty damn into it.' 'I was and you didn't,' Trowa says quickly. It is and it isn't true. He's way out of practice and Duo's not small and was very enthusiastic. 'Well, you know. Not much. I just need to get used to it. I - kind of had a nightmare. That's all.' He sees Duo's expression change, just a little. The concern is still very much in evidence, but now he looks like he wants, very much, to hurt someone. 'Shit, Tro. I'm sorry. I - what I did - it made you think about stuff, right? Was it Barton?' Trowa nods. 'It wasn't you, Duo. Nothing you did. It happens sometimes. You know.' The man in his arms sighs heavily. 'Yeah. Still. Want to talk about it?' 'What's to say?' he asks numbly. 'After the first time, it was... kind of a thing. Every night, pretty much. During the day, if he could. Not much I could do about it. Maybe for the best; everyone knew I was his. At least I didn't have to lie down for anyone else. Not much, anyway. If he was pissed at something I did, or drunk enough, he used to pass me around, sometimes. Not that often though. That was something. Even got me some privileges; not just getting to fly. I got to eat fresh food sometimes; he used to let me use his shower if he was in a really good mood, if I'd been good for him.' He shivers; he'd paid dearly for each and every favour, in blood, mostly. He'd been no one, just a valueless, nameless boy. If Barton hadn't taken a fancy to him, he probably wouldn't have survived. He had though. 'Hey.' Duo touches his wrist lightly. 'You're cold. Want to come back in to my crappy little bed?' 'Please.' He is shivering, not sure if it's cold or memories, but he lets Duo take his hand, lead him inside. The bed isn't all that bad, really. It's warm and Duo's there, holding him, letting him talk. He's never, never, told anyone all of this. He'd told Quat the very bare minimum; that he'd been raped once, and who'd done it. Never anything more because it had made Quat cry. ~ * ~ |
