"Silk and Scrubs"

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: Yaoi, get together, romance

Pairings: 3 x 4

Summary: When Dr. Trowa Baron picks up a blond on a whim in a nightclub, he has no idea that he'll have to set out to convince Quatre's best friend (and possibly his dog) that he's The One for this cute yoga teacher...

"Silk and Scrubs"

Chapter 2

 

It was seven by Trowa's watch when he woke up. The curtains were closed and it took a few seconds to work out whether it was morning or evening. Not morning, he decided; he didn't think he'd slept for the bulk of eighteen hours, didn't have that bleary feeling you got from being asleep so long.

Quatre would have woken him for dinner at some point, probably. Quatre. He wasn't there, but his last memory, before sleep, was of the blond curling against him. Nice memory, that; the way Quat fitted against him, head tucked into Trowa's shoulder, the smell of vanilla and citrus shampoo teasing his nostrils.

They'd managed to amass quite a few nice memories, given that he'd been falling asleep when he first got home. He'd found another brief surge of energy after breakfast and showering; enough to lay Quat out on the mattress and make him sigh and moan and beg for a commendably long time, given that he'd been asleep on his feet such a short time previously.

By then, though, he'd pretty much been at the point where sleep deprivation became a habit. Every cell in his body had been craving sleep, but it just wasn't happening. Quatre had got up to make them both herbal tea, and he remembered drinking it, the two of them talking, but not what they'd talked about.

It had been nice, though, sitting up in Quat's bed against a pile of pillows, with Quat leaning on his chest. Not sexual, even though they'd both been naked, and not really all that romantic either. Intimate, maybe.

In a minute, Trowa thought, stretching, he'd get up and find Quatre. It was seven o'clock and somehow that seemed significant but he couldn't imagine why because he'd finished his shift and...

Oh, shit.

They were going out; they'd planned it a couple of days ago. Some Italian film festival and dinner. He'd been the one to suggest it, browsing through cinema listings in the local paper. It would be a nice evening; a movie classic and then dinner at an Italian restaurant. He liked Fellini; he liked pasta; it had seemed like a great idea for a date.

It didn't any more, when he could honestly think of nothing he'd rather do than laze around at home and ring for a take away and find a DVD they both fancied watching and not have to get dressed and go out again.

Quatre was in the living room when he went down, curled up on the couch with his laptop resting across his knees. He looked up with a faint frown between his brows and the slightly glazed look of someone who'd been staring at a computer screen for too long. 'Hi. Did you sleep well?'

'Oh, yeah.' Trowa sat on the arm of the sofa, bent to kiss him. 'What are you up to?'

Quatre made a face. 'Accounts. Ugh. I do wish more people would take up yoga.'

'New businesses always take a while to get off the ground. You know that.' He kissed Quatre again, about the only thing he could do to help. He knew how important it was to Quat, to make a success of his own business; to prove he could do it without family help or handouts.

Quatre smiled. 'I know, but I never thought the studio would end up haemorrhaging money quite so badly.'

'There were a few nurses reading those fliers I put up last night,' Trowa offered. 'They sounded pretty interested, but they don't have a lot of free time, most of them. I was wondering, maybe you could do classes at the hospital at lunchtime or whatever. There's a tonne of space. Some of the more mobile patients might like it as well. Be good therapy, right?'

'I could do that,' Quatre said brightening. 'It's a wonderful idea. Thank you. I could give some sort of special group rates if enough people are interested.'

'Good way to de-stress in the middle of a shift,' Trowa commented.

'Would you be interested? If I did start a class?'

Trowa shook his head. 'If I was free, yeah, but you know what my schedule's like. I'd never be able to commit to any one time. Besides, I kind of like the way you de-stress me when I get home.'

'Mm. So do I.' Quatre closed off his spreadsheet and put the computer on the coffee table. 'I hadn't realised it was so late. We should probably be getting ready to go. The restaurant's booked for eight, isn't it?'

'Yeah, I think so.' Trowa said it without overmuch enthusiasm.

Quatre tilted his head, looking at him. 'Would you rather not go? We don't have to.'

'It's OK. We've got reservations and tickets. Pity to waste them.'

'Oh. All right.' Quat leaned back against his arm. 'I'd be quite happy to stay in, if you're tired. There's still some of that lasagne you made in the fridge and I've got garlic bread in the freezer.'

'Or we can order in, if you like? You're sure you don't mind?'

'I am totally positive,' Quatre assured him. 'If you're not too tired to go out, I am. I'd really rather not spend any more hours staring at a screen and I have to get up before three anyway to collect Duo.'

'That's sorted then,' Trowa said firmly, skating over the mention of Duo. If he only had Quat to himself for a few hours, he wasn't going to spoil them by thinking about Duo Maxwell. 'What d'you fancy for dinner?'

An hour later, they had an assortment of Indian dishes around them and some sitcom Quat liked on the TV. It was perfect, way better than a fancy restaurant and a crowded cinema.

It was - different. They'd spent nights in before, in each other's homes, but it had usually been based around sex, and then falling asleep out of sheer exhaustion. Not just talking and trying different foods and bickering over the remote control and trying to keep the dogs away from the food. Allie anyway; Sumarya was way too dignified to beg.

The first couple of weeks had mostly been getting-to-know-you sorts of conversations. They'd agreed to take things slowly so they'd set up elaborate dates and things had gone slowly enough in the sense that they'd never technically been naked or in bed together. That had still left a fair amount of potential, though, and at one point - in the backseat of Quat's car - they'd looked at each other and laughed and decided slowly wasn't working out, and was highly over-rated anyway.

Then there'd been a couple of weeks when they'd spent every spare moment in bed and naked and their respective friends had started to worry if they'd ever see them again.

Things had pretty much levelled out eventually to a perfectly acceptable blend of sex and dates and meeting each other's groups of friends but never really got to the point of cosy evenings in with the TV and a takeaway.

Not 'til now.

'So,' Quatre said casually, leaning over for some more rice, 'just hypothetically, if I said how very nice this is, would you rush off into the night screaming?'

The question was well-timed; Trowa had just taken a bite of Naan bread; chewing it gave him space to think of something to say. 'You've been talking to Duo again.'

'Well. And a few other people.'

Not a huge amount he could really say to that. 'I'm not planning to run off on you. Shit, is that something you really think I'll do?'

'You do have ... something of a reputation,' Quat said carefully.

'I had a year or so when I did some stupid stuff. I don't do that any more. I'm here because I want to be with you, I like being around you. I won't head for the door just because you say you like that too.'

'That's good. In that case, this is very enjoyable. May I have some of that chicken please?'

'Here you go.' Trowa passed it over. 'I think it's nice too. Being here. You know.'

Quat was better at talking about it, at the whole relationship thing, really. Trowa had done it once, seriously; had fallen hard and been badly hurt. Since then, there'd been no one special; casual hook-ups aplenty because they didn't mean anything.

He hadn't expected to meet anyone in a club, late at night. Hadn't expected it would be like that; no thunderclaps or tsunamis or massive shifts of the Earth's tectonic plates.

Just a quiet voice saying another man's name.

It had happened though, and now he was eating Chicken Biryani three months later and half-watching some stupid show and he couldn't imagine not having Quat in his life.

'I'm glad.' Quatre looked up from his plate, and smiled, and then shifted closer. Trowa slipped an arm around his waist, and got Quat's bright head on his shoulder in exchange. He could imagine being here in winter, with a fire roaring, and maybe they could get a (fake) fur rug for the floor, and he could buy Quat a (fake) fur thong or something, or drape him in tinsel, and they could make mulled wine and play duets of Christmas carols.

Quatre blew in his ear gently. 'What's that smile for?'

Trowa felt his grin widen. 'Some kind of Hollywood Christmas fantasy. A sort-of X-rated one.'

'That sounds intriguing.' Quatre wriggled a bit against him, and ended up on the floor with his head in Trowa's lap. 'Christmas is nine months away, you know.'

'Yeah. I know. Still, would be kind of nice to do something. The two of us.'

It was the nearest they'd come, so far, to talking about the future, or commitment. Anything really.

Quatre looked up at him, expression slightly uncertain. 'Mr. Barton, are you asking me out?'

'We've already done the whole going out thing, don't you think? I'm asking you to stay in sometimes, with me. As well as going out together. Just the two of us,' he added. He was pretty sure that Quat hadn't been seeing anyone else on the side since they'd met, but they hadn't ever discussed it.

'So,' Quat said, suddenly crisp, 'you are proposing an exclusive and possibly long-term arrangement?'

Trowa burst out laughing; he forgot sometimes that Quat, in a brief, previous incarnation, had been an accountant. 'Pretty much.'

'Yes, then.'

OK, he'd known - almost known - that Quat would agree, but it was still a relief. 'You're sure? You don't want to hold out for someone else? A surgeon maybe?'

Quatre grimaced. 'I dated a surgeon once. Very kinky. Not in a good way. I think I like paediatricians better. They're kind.'

'Am I kind?'

'Very much, yes.'

'Well. Good to hear it. What exactly are you looking so smug about?'

Quatre smiled up at him creamily, Cheshire-Cat style. 'Why wouldn't I be smug? I've got you. And I think we should celebrate a little.'

'Oh, I knew there was a reason why I liked being with you,' Trowa said. 'You have the best ideas.'

And the worst, Trowa thought blearily, several hours later, fumbling through the jumble of possessions on Quat's dresser to find his blaring alarm clock. Shit. Bloody Maxwell. Why the hell couldn't he have got a flight that arrived at a civilised hour? Or stayed in a hotel? Or just stayed in Bombay or wherever he'd been? That would have been the best option of all.

And Quat was still sleeping blissfully, despite having an alarm that sounded like an air raid siren on acid.

'Quat?' He finally found the off switch on the damn thing, and turned on the bedside light. 'Hon? You awake?'

'Hmm?' Quatre blinked at the bright light, and then turned over, burying his head in the pillows.

'Quatre,' Trowa persisted, shaking his shoulder gently. 'You've to pick up Duo, remember? At the airport?'

'Mmm. Yes. Just a minute. Love you.'

Oh, fuck.

Trowa moved his hand, and took a step backwards. They hadn't said it yet, although he supposed they'd both implied it at different times; things they'd said or done for each other.

It was different hearing it said out loud, even if Quat was pretty much in a coma, and probably had no clue what he was saying.

Not like no-one had ever said it to him before, but generally in the middle of sex, or when they'd been drunk. Not curled up around a pillow. Not saying it like it was the most natural thing in the universe.

'Quat?' He steeled himself, touched his boyfriend's shoulder again. 'Duo, remember? You need to get up.'

'Mmm.' He turned over, finally; all tousled hair and perfect, peachy skin, and opened his eyes just a little. 'Time is it, Tro?'

'Half two, almost.' Trowa watched him yawn and stretch and felt a bitter little spurt of guilt. He was the one who'd kept Quat awake for hours, knowing he'd hardly have time to sleep before he had to get up again. And he was already regretting what he was about to say. 'Look, it's OK. Go back to sleep. I'm awake now; I'll go and collect Duo.'

'But you don't like him.'

'More he doesn't like me,' Trowa countered grimly. 'And it doesn't matter. We can put up with each other for an hour or so. We'll survive. You don't mind me taking your car, do you?'

'No.' Quatre's expression was a confused mixture of confusion, affection, drowsiness. Cute. 'Are you sure?'

'Sure, honey. You go back to sleep. Won't be long.'

The drive was nice actually. Mostly deserted streets, with just a few other cars and one lightning-fast russet streak; a fox flashing across the road in front of him. The airport was quiet too, this early in the morning, with only the flight from India scheduled before seven am. Trowa leaned over the barrier, waiting. It would probably take Duo a while to go through passport control and get his luggage.

He looked good when he finally walked out; not like he'd been flying for however long. He was walking beside an elderly lady, helping her with her suitcase. He looked very good actually, Trowa thought, before abruptly remembering he wasn't allowed to have those sorts of thoughts, and slamming a drawbridge down on them. But, if you didn't know him, there was no denying that Duo Maxwell was extremely attractive.

Shame his personality didn't match the highly decorative exterior.

Duo put down the suitcase and stood, laughing, while his new friend reached up to kiss his cheek. Like a favourite grandson, Trowa thought sourly, and then watched Duo turn that bright smile on the young guy who walked up to hug the old lady; the real grandson, probably. There was a handshake that went on for just a shade too long, under Granny's approving gaze, as the guy thanked Duo far too enthusiastically for his kindness, and Duo just stood there with that dazzling grin, and laughed it off.

Typical; he set out to charm everyone in the known universe except Trowa.

Duo waved his latest conquest off, settled the strap of his bag more comfortably on his shoulder, and then looked around. Searching for Quat, clearly; his gaze skimmed over Trowa the first time and then swung back.

Trowa walked over, trying not to mind the other man's appalled expression. 'Hey. Welcome back to Sanque.'

Duo glared. 'Where's Quat? Minding the car?'

Trowa considered, just for a second, making another crack about S&M Day and Quatre being cuffed to the bed, but Duo would probably swing for him. 'He's at home. I offered to come and get you instead.'

'What's wrong with him?'

'Nothing. He had a long day and he was wrecked and I really didn't like the idea of him driving when he was still half-asleep.' He jabbed one finger toward the exit doors. 'If you can't stand the idea of being with me for half an hour, there's a taxi rank outside. Or the buses start running at six.'

Duo fiddled with the strap of his camera case and took a step toward him. 'I'm tired too, OK?'

It was an oblique sort of apology but probably the friendliest thing Duo had ever said to him in three months. 'No bother. Long flight?'

'Two stopovers and a delay in Dubai.' Duo put down his duffle and stretched. 'God, I hate flying and those crappy airline seats and no freaking legroom and the plastic food, don't you?'

Idiot. No idea how lucky he was, getting the chance to be up there, in the clouds.

'I don't know,' he said, trying not to let Duo hear how he felt. The guy had been trying, probably, and maybe if you did have to fly a lot, for work, you might get sick of it. 'I've never been in a plane. I'd like to, one day.' He knew Quatre loved it, even had his pilot's licence, but it was probably different if you could fly your father's private jet, or had only ever travelled first class.

'No? Should get Quat to take you up some time.'

'Yeah.' Trowa opened the passenger door for him, and Duo obligingly fell asleep - or pretended to, anyway - as soon as he got in. That neatly took care of any awkwardness on the drive home and he could go straight to bed once they got back.

Duo woke up as soon as Trowa parked at Quat's house; he'd been faking then, and frowned when Trowa followed him in the front door. 'What, you live here now?'

Truce over, then. 'I could ask you the same question.'

Duo gave him a beatific smile, tinged with evil. 'I do live here when I'm in Sanque, yes. I'm sure Quat mentioned it.'

OK, Trowa did a slow count to ten. Quatre wouldn't like it too much if he came down in the morning to see the dead body of his best friend in the hall. He'd have to take precautions; get Heero to help dispose of the body. They could probably fudge the paperwork in the morgue.

He was great with the dogs; crouching down to pet Sumarya, who obviously adored him, and scratching that exact spot on Allie's spine that reduced her to ecstasy. Traitor, although in fairness Golden Retrievers weren't exactly discriminating. Allie would have happily gone off with a serial killer if he'd offered her a biscuit and stroked her ears a bit.

'Where's Quat?'

'In bed, asleep, I imagine. That's where he was when I left. Go up and check if you want.'

Duo hesitated. 'I won't wake him up if he's that wrecked. Is he really OK?'

'Yeah. Just a bit stressed earlier about the studio. It's not doing too well.'

'Oh?' He gave Sumarya a last pat on the head and stood up. 'Well, I suppose it's not like he'll be sleeping on the streets if it doesn't work out. He can just go back to work for Daddy's company.'

'Do you even know him?' Trowa snapped, unable to stop himself. 'Do you have any idea how much this means to him?'

'I do, actually. Just wasn't sure if you did.'

Oh.

Duo was actually grinning at him.

Fancy that.

'You want tea or something before you go to bed?'

Duo clearly thought about it, probably suspecting an attempt to poison him, and then nodded. 'Yeah. Thanks.'

Trowa made tea and then remembered Duo complaining about airline food, and heated up some lasagne as well, and added a good splodge of tomato ketchup because Duo liked it on everything.

He took the tray into Quat's sitting room; Duo was ensconced in his own usual chair, both dogs curled at his feet. It took an effort not to resent that.

'Here you are. I thought you might be hungry.'

Duo took the tray, looking at the plate of food suspiciously. 'What's that?'

'It's called lasagne. A type of baked pasta dish; I'm sure you've had it before. For the record, it's vegetarian and organic and gluten free and all the rest of it. You don't have to eat it, if you don't want to.'

'I'm not hungry,' Duo muttered, but he picked up a fork and poked at it anyway.

'Don't eat it then,' Trowa said shortly. 'Good night. I suppose I'll see you tomorrow.'

'Suppose.' Duo sounded less than enthralled by the idea. 'You're planning on staying the night then?'

'I've been staying over a lot lately. I'm sure Quat mentioned it. Look, what exactly is your problem? Are you jealous, is that it? You want him for yourself?'

'I've known him for ten years. If I'd wanted him, believe me, I could have had him. I just don't want you having him.'

Trowa was halfway to the door when he turned back. Yeah, it was bloody tempting just to stalk out, but Duo would just be there in the morning. The whole mess would still be there.

'All right. I know that you don't like me. I even understand why, partly. But Quat and I are together for the foreseeable future. I don't really give a toss how you feel about me, but it's awkward for him if his best friend and his boyfriend can't actually be in the same room for five minutes without wanting to kill one another. Do you think we could settle for some sort of armed neutrality or something?'

Duo shrugged. 'Doubt it.'

Trowa took a deep breath. Quatre liked the guy, for some unfathomable reason, and Duo didn't seem willing even to try to meet him halfway, so it was up to him. 'OK. I was a jerk to you the first time we met. I get that. I'm sorry. I'd had a crappy day at work, and I took it out on you.'

'You think I care about how you acted to me?' Duo's lip curled. 'I care that Quatre isn't the sort of guy who just lets random strangers pick him up and goes off with them. That's not what he's like.'

'I know he's not. But it's not like I exactly forced him to go anywhere with me.'

'He's not like that,' Duo said, again, more forcefully. 'He's ... careful.'

'He trusted me,' Trowa said simply. 'Duo, he's smart. He's good at reading people.'

'Not always.' Duo looked down at his plate, at the sheet of lasagne he'd dowsed in ketchup.

Shit.

He didn't for the life of him know why, but he suddenly remembered something Quat had said earlier, about the surgeon he'd dated once. Quatre was a sweetheart; warm and thoughtful and funny and far too generous for his own good. Sure, he had a couple of little kinks and thought he was a bit more adventurous than he actually was, but he also had very definite limits to be respected, and Trowa had a sudden, sickening realisation how someone could take advantage of all that, could have exploited him.

'He was with someone once who...wasn't kind?' he asked, using Quatre's own word.

Duo just shrugged again, probably perilously close to breaking a confidence and regretting he'd said even that much.

It didn't matter; Trowa could put the pieces together on his own account. Quat had told him he'd been in a relationship that had ended badly, although hadn't gone into any other detail except to say it hadn't lasted for long. He'd been strong enough and smart enough to get out early, and it had left him a little reserved rather than overly traumatised.

'I'm not like that.'

'I've asked people about you,' Duo said. 'I know what you're like and you're not his type. He doesn't need to fall for you, and then get hurt because you get bored with him and move on to someone else.'

'I've been with him for three months now. Yeah, I know it's not that long, really, but it's obviously more for me than a one night thing. And yeah, I did go through a year or so when I was all over the place but I'd just qualified and I was learning to deal with my job and I didn't have time to do the whole relationship thing and I did sleep around, but it wasn't like I was making promises of commitment to anyone, and none of the guys I was with expected any.'

Duo actually nodded. 'I don't think I could do your job.'

'Well, I'm pretty sure I couldn't do yours either,' he said honestly. 'And it's different with Quat. I'm different. I like him a lot. I wouldn't hurt him.'

'If you do, I'll hurt you. I'm serious.'

'OK.' Trowa took a deep breath, held it. He supposed he could live with Duo in his position as Quat's over-protective, over-possessive best friend if he had to. 'He could hurt me just as easily, you know. He could fall for somebody else tomorrow; he could just decide he deserves better.'

'Which he does,' Duo said promptly. 'That was too easy, Barton.'

'Way to fall for a set-up, Maxwell,' Trowa retorted, and Duo grinned at him. It looked a bit reluctant, but real enough.

Definite progress.

'So, is it safe for me to go upstairs without having to worry about you sneaking into the bedroom with the carving knife?'

Duo thought about it. 'Quat wouldn't like blood all over his sheets. You're safe enough.'

A bit better than armed neutrality, Trowa decided; at least they were making jokes. Well, it was probably a joke.

'OK, good. If you're staying up for a bit, can you put the dogs to bed and turn out the lights and stuff?'

Duo gave him a pained look. 'I've lived here longer than you. I know what to do.'

'Right. Sorry. See you in the morning.'

'See you,' Duo echoed.

Not madly enthusiastic, but the friendlier side of resigned. That would do for now.

Duo was marginally less homicidal towards him and his lovely Quatre was in bed and asleep and would probably appreciate a nice bout of morning sex in a few hours' time.

All good, really.

~ * ~

 

Back to Waterlilylf's Page

Back to GW Authors Index.