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"Wish Upon a Star "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, AU Pairings: 3x4 Summary: When you wish upon a star, it makes no
difference who you are, unless you're the heir to the Winner business
empire. So when you do find a means of escape, how long can you hold
on to the fantasy, and the man of your dreams, before reality takes
over? "Wish Upon a Star " Fantasies and Reality: 'Do you know where I've always wanted to go?' Quatre asked suddenly. It was late enough that the sun was streaming into through the lace curtains of their guesthouse bedroom. A half-formulated plan to watch the sunrise had been abandoned some hours ago; Quatre had actually made it out of bed, but been hauled back the minute he'd bent down to find his jeans. They'd behaved rather well the previous evening. After checking into the guesthouse, and spending an hour wandering around the village they'd found a nice little seafood restaurant for dinner, followed by a drive out to the lighthouse to watch the sunset, and then the moon come up. Unfortunately, there had been other people there; locals out jogging or exercising their dogs or just enjoying a lovely spring evening. They'd got to hold hands at one point, climbing up some sand dunes, but otherwise they hadn't touched each other. They'd more than made up for it once they'd got home and locked the bedroom door. After a good twelve hours of sex, with intermittent naps, Quatre was in a daze of sheer bliss. He'd fallen into his perfect daydream and it was real. Trowa, magically, seemed to feel like that too. Trowa grinned. 'Nope. But I know where I'd really like you to go right now.' 'Trowa, no!' Quatre groaned. 'I'm exhausted.' 'No stamina, that's the trouble with you colonial types.' He bent his head slightly, giving Quatre a quick kiss on the lips. 'I don't know what you're tired for. I'm the one who did all the work. Ouch!' He winced as a well-placed elbow jabbed him in the ribs. 'And I suppose I just lay here and thought of L4?' Quatre teased back. 'Yeah, pretty much.' Trowa managed to grab the blond's arms just in time to avoid another blow. 'Maybe next time I'll make you go on top?' 'Would you? Really?' 'Sure, if you want. Now, tell me, where's this place you've always wanted to go to?' 'Oh.' Quatre's mind spiralled back to that topic. 'I've always dreamed of going to Jamaica or somewhere like that. You know, a place with beaches and palm trees and hammocks.' He glanced up at Trowa, trying to read his lover's expression. 'I don't know if that's your sort of thing, is it? I just thought it might be fun. One day.' 'Let me get this straight.' Trowa was frowning slightly. Oh, drat. He obviously wasn't into that sort of holiday. Well, of course not. He liked hiking and horse-riding; he'd probably hate the idea of lazing about on a beach all day sipping chilled fruit juices and watching the sunset before dinner. 'You're asking me if I'd be interested in flying off to the Caribbean or somewhere with you, I assume going first class?' 'Well, I was thinking we could charter a private jet.' 'Naturally. And you'd want to stay in some top-end luxury resort, right?' 'Actually, I like the idea of renting a private villa with its own pool and beach. Somewhere with total privacy so we can go around naked all the time!' Trowa burst out laughing. 'You're really getting into this whole skinny-dipping thing. So..the deal is we fly out to a luxury villa where we can have sex wherever and whenever we want?' He paused dramatically, a small frown between his brows. 'When can we leave?' 'Really?' Quatre asked excitedly. 'You'd like a holiday like that? I'm afraid I can't go anywhere until I've talked to my father. Maybe after I get back from L4 if you can get Duo to take care of the shop?' Trowa rolled on top suddenly, pinning Quatre to the mattress. 'Wait. You're actually serious about this?' 'Of course. Weren't you?' 'Quatre, when most people talk about doing stuff like that, it's just a fantasy. Not something they're actually planning to do.' 'Oh.' Quatre chewed on his bottom lip. 'I thought … it would be something nice for us to do.' 'Something nice,' Trowa echoed, looking up at the ceiling. 'I think I'm going to have to get used to having a billionaire for a boyfriend.' 'I'm not a billionaire!' 'By my standards you are.' Trowa rolled off him, pulling Quatre to face him. 'You do know people are going to think I'm only with you for your money? Your family; the press when they find out about us?' When. Not if. Quatre swallowed hard. 'I know you're not. I don't care about anyone else.' That won him a smile. 'Your immense family fortune doesn't remotely interest me. I'm only with you for your body.' 'Only?' 'Well, your body and your personality and your sense of humour and the way you moan when I kiss your cock and that thing you can do with your tongue.' He winked. 'Oh, I suppose the fact that you're loaded is a nice enough bonus.' 'You don't actually care, do you?' Quatre wondered. 'About the money?' 'Actually, no. I'd prefer it if you didn't have any of it.' 'I'm so sorry.' 'You can try making it up to me. The stress of having a rich boyfriend is a real killer.' 'I'm sure it is,' Quatre agreed sweetly. 'How can I make it up to you?' 'I thought you were tired.' 'I think I've got my second wind.' 'Prove it,' Trowa challenged. 'Prove it yourself,' Quatre retorted. 'Is that a challenge, Winner?' Trowa rolled on to his back. 'How about this time I just lie here, and you do the active stuff?' Quatre pouted, rolling over on to his back, legs spread. 'Please? Don't you want me?' Trowa did, very much, and set out to prove it. 'Wow.' It was all Quatre could manage afterwards, quite a while afterwards. 'Wow's good.' Trowa kissed him. 'Cat, d'you really not like topping?' 'I do, usually.' He hesitated. 'I just haven't let that many people take me like that. So it's special. And I love the feel of you inside me.' 'Just when I think you can't possibly get any more perfect,' Trowa groaned. 'I hate to say this, but we're going to have to go home at some point, you know.' 'Why?' Quatre burrowed deeper into his arms. 'It's so nice here. Why do we have to leave? 'Oddly enough, I can't think of a single reason right now.' Trowa's arms locked around him. 'Then we'll stay here for ever and ever.' Quatre's voice was slightly muffled. 'Ah, Cat. I wish we could.' 'I don't want to go back to the real world.' 'It's not such a bad place.' Trowa placed a gentle kiss on the blond's bare shoulder. 'I've got a pretty nice bed in my room, and we can make out in the stock room when there aren't any customers, and there are loads of places around Sanque I want to show you.' He paused for a minute. 'You know, even if we can't jet off to Jamaica straightaway, we could still take off somewhere for a couple of days. You said you really wanted to go hiking around Lake Nova; if I could get Duo to mind the shop, would you fancy that?' 'Oh, yes! That would be amazing. I'm just scared, Trowa. I'm so happy here, and I'm scared things won't work out.' 'They will if we make them.' Trowa sighed. 'Cat, if we want to be together, it'll happen. OK? Maybe it won't be all that easy, but we'll manage.' 'Mmm,' Quatre responded drowsily, smothering a yawn. 'Am I boring you that much?' 'No! No, I think it's lack of sleep catching up with me.' 'Fancy a nap?' 'Mmm. Should clean up first though.' 'Should, yeah. In a minute, OK?' Trowa was the first to fall asleep; Quatre closed his eyes for just a second, maybe a couple of seconds. Neither of them woke until the first knock on the door. 'Mr. Barton?' Another knock. 'Oh, fuck.' 'What's the matter?' Quatre asked sleepily, opening his eyes. 'Someone at the door. I forgot to tell the owner we were planning on staying an extra night.' The blond laughed. 'Oops! I hope she has the room free. If she doesn't, I'll have to buy this whole place for us.' Trowa tugged a t-shirt on over his jeans. 'I knew that had to be some advantages to dating a rich guy! Be back in a sec, OK?' 'OK.' Quatre burrowed back under the quilt, inhaling the musky smells of Trowa, and sex, and sex with Trowa. Mmm, and more sex when his lover got back, although they should go and eat something first. 'Cat.' Trowa's voice sounded oddly strained when the door opened again. 'You need to get up.' 'What's the matter?' Quatre peeked out and then gasped. Rashid and Auda were crowding into the room behind his lover. 'What's going on?' 'Miss Iria sent us,' Rashid said flatly, throwing a newspaper on the bed. 'We have a serious problem. We need to take you away from here now.' 'What?' He sat up, remembered he was naked, and grabbed the sheet to cover himself. 'The car is downstairs, Master Quatre. Ten minutes, if you please. We don't have much time.' The door closed heavily behind them; Trowa sat on the edge of the bed. 'Who the hell are those two and why are they ordering you around?' 'They work for my family. Security.' Quatre slid out of bed. Ten minutes; not enough time to shower. He'd have to have a quick wash instead. 'Wait!' Trowa caught his arm, pulling him back. 'You're just going to race off like that, on their say so?' 'Well…yes,' Quatre said uncertainly. 'They wouldn't be here if it wasn't important. There must be something wrong with my father, or some scandal at WEI. Something bad enough for me to have to get back.' 'Why didn't they just so say so, then?' Trowa picked up the paper. 'This is just some stupid tabloid. It doesn't even have a business page or…Oh.' 'Oh, what?' Quatre leaned over his shoulder and gasped. 'Oh my God. It's us!' They were plastered all over the centrefold. A big colour picture of the two of them thae previous evening, on the beach. It was grainy and poor quality, obviously shot from a long distance, but it was unmistakably Quatre Winner holding another man's hand. There was a smaller picture in one corner of Quatre wearing a tuxedo with a pretty girl on his arm. 'Oh, no,' he whispered, scanning the text rapidly. It was all innuendo and allegation; the editor was obviously worried about lawsuits, but there were suggestive comments aplenty and anyone reading the article would be in no doubt that Quatre was homosexual and almost certainly sleeping with his 'mystery' male companion. 'This is a disaster.' 'Is it?' Trowa, apart from one brief, scathing glance, hadn't bothered to look again. 'Of course it is!' Quatre jumped up, rumpling the horrid paper and throwing it under the bed. 'It's awful. My family will be furious with me. I promised Iria I'd be discreet, and I'm in the tabloids. I'm in so much trouble!' 'A disaster,' Trowa echoed quietly. 'We talked about this, Cat. It was bound to come out at some point, right? Maybe it's better to get it over with. No one believes the crap these rags publish, and even if they do, who cares?' 'Everyone! My father and the girls, and all our shareholders and the people on L4. It's going to be a huge scandal. Iria's going to kill me!' 'You,' Trowa stood up abruptly, pulling Quatre to face him, 'are going to calm down before you have a full blown panic attack. OK? Deep breath. I won't let anyone kill you and those bodyguards of yours probably won't either. You've done nothing wrong and you're seriously over-reacting. This is a sleazy piece of junk that people will be using for their dogs to piss on tomorrow. There's one shit-quality photo and a whole lot of stupid crap about you.' Quatre forced himself to take the deep breath he'd been ordered to. Trowa just didn't understand. 'According to what my family believes, and most of the people on my colony, I have done something very wrong.' Suddenly something struck him. 'Oh! This was taken yesterday evening!' There had been other people on the beach, but no one had given the two young men a second glance, that he'd noticed. 'Trowa, whoever took this knew who I was! And where I was going to be. They must have! Someone who knew we were going away must have called a journalist and got them to send a photographer down here. This just keeps getting worse.' Trowa stared at him. 'Cat, chill. You're making way too much of this. So someone took a picture of you; of us? What's the big deal? It's not like it's remotely graphic.' 'The big deal,' Quatre snapped, 'is that some journalist has been trailing us! What do you think happened; that a photographer just happened to be taking an evening stroll on a very remote beach to watch the sunset and thought he'd take some random pictures on the off chance that some of them might be worth a fortune? They knew I was going to be here, so obviously someone who knew where we were going told on us.' 'And who exactly do you think that was?' 'I don't know. Duo knew. Or maybe your friend who's the journalist; he knew you were taking me away. And your sister.' 'None of them would do anything like that.' Trowa's tone was iced-over steel. 'Ever. Heero and Zechs knew as well, and your sister. What exactly makes you so sure that it was one of my friends instead of yours?' 'They wouldn't! I'm sorry, I know Duo wouldn't. But you are the one who knows a journalist with a grudge against my family.' 'I've told you, Wufei would never do something like that. Never.' 'Sorry,' Quatre mumbled. 'Sorry. He's your friend. I shouldn't have said that.' 'No.' Trowa's mouth was a hard line, rimmed with white. 'You've said quite a few things you shouldn't, while we're at it. What happened to you not caring about what people thought? Wasn't that the truth? You said yesterday you didn't mind people in Sanque knowing?' 'That was true! But it was just…just talking then. I didn't think it would happen like this, so soon.' Quatre gestured hopelessly to the crumpled paper under the bed. 'I thought we'd have more time.' 'More time for what, exactly? For you to come to your senses and realise this was a mistake?' 'No!' 'Well, that's what it looks like, from where I'm standing, Quatre. Yesterday, you claimed all you cared about was being with me. Now, you can't wait to ditch me head back to your nice, safe world with your bodyguards.' 'I'm sorry,' Quatre whispered, raising one of Trowa's hands and kissing the palm gently. 'Trowa, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean anything like that. I promise. I do want to be with you more than anything else, but I do have other responsibilities in my life. I told you that. I don't just get to do what I want.' The loud knock on the door startled them both. 'Master Quatre. We need to leave now. The lady who owns this place has had calls from members of the press. They know where you are.' 'Oh. Right, one second.' Quatre muttered the words absently. 'Trowa, I have to go. I'm sorry. I can't…I don't want to go, but I can't just stay here, and Iria needs to see me.' 'Correction. We have to go.' Trowa brushed a quick kiss against his lips. 'You don't get rid of me that easily, and I think it's time I met this sister of yours.' 'She…isn't likely to be in a very accommodating mood.' 'Nor am I,' Trowa pronounced grimly. 'Now, get your stuff.' He flung open the door five minutes later. 'Right. We're ready. Quatre's coming with me. We'll see you back in the city.' 'Miss Iria specifically ordered us to drive Master Quatre back to the hotel,' Rashid objected. 'Well, Miss Iria couldn't be bothered to come and see her brother so she doesn't get a say in this.' Trowa opened the passenger door. 'Get in, Cat. We'll face down this sister, and then I'm taking you back to Wish and locking the door. Got that?' 'Master Quatre,' Auda cut in, 'Miss Iria said…' 'I'll talk to Miss Iria.' Quatre took a deep breath and got into Trowa's car. Despite what Trowa said, it was disastrous. Completely and utterly. There would be so much fall out from that tiny moment of handholding. And when he'd tried to explain to Trowa, he'd only been angry with him. 'What will happen,' Trowa asked as they pulled out, 'if you just say straight out that you're gay?' Quatre shrugged. 'My family will disown me; I'll be dismissed from WEI so there will be total chaos over who takes over as the next CEO, and I may end up facing charges of indecency if I go back to L4.' 'And the alternatives?' Trowa was looking very fixedly at the road ahead. 'I'm not sure. I suppose we could deny the whole thing, which will be what Iria will want. Claim it's not a genuine photo, or that it's not really me or something and threaten to sue. Then our press office will probably arrange for me to be photographed with some beautiful girl and claim we're in love so obviously there's no possible way I could be gay.' 'What do you want?' 'To go to Jamaica with you and lie in a hammock and drink cocktails out pineapples and coconuts.' One corner of Trowa's mouth lifted, very slightly, at that. 'I want to be with you. So much.' 'But not enough to risk your whole life?' Trowa reached down and took his hand. 'I get it, Cat. It's a big deal for you, all this. But I don't want to be in a relationship that's all deceit, and I don't want a boyfriend who's pretending to be something he's not. I can take us having to be discreet, but not having to lie outright.' Quatre swallowed, hard. 'OK.' This was it then; Trowa quite obviously didn't want to get involved with the mess that was his life. It was hardly surprising. No one would. 'OK, what exactly?' Trowa pressed. 'OK, you want us to finish or OK, you're willing to face this down?' 'I don't want us to finish,' Quatre let the words tumble out of his mouth, meaning them. 'Please. I thought maybe you wanted to break up with me, and I wouldn't blame you. But I really like being with you, and I don't want things to end like this.' 'You mean that?' 'Oh, yes. You're right. Everything you've said. I – I don't want to be in a relationship like that either.' He firmed his chin resolutely. 'No lying. I'll work this out.' 'No.' Trowa's swift negative took him by surprise and
then he realised the other man was smiling. 'We will. Come
on, there has to be some sort of middle ground between you being prosecuted
for being with me, and having to date a girl for appearance's sake.
We'll find something.'
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