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"The Boy Next Door"Written By: t-shirt Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and its characters are
copyright to Sunrise, Bandai, Sotsu Agency, and associated parties.
I make no money with this fic. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: AU/Teenage Romance, Fluff, angst, sap,
eventual lemon, underage partying! Pairings: Eventual 1x2, 1+4, 2+3, 2+5, 3xOCs leading
to eventual 3x4 (they don’t know each other at first), mention of
(brief) past 3xHilde , 3+2, 3+5, eventual 5xM, 5+2, 5+3 Summary: This is the story of 4 teenage boy’s who grew up in the same neighborhood and the events following Quatre’s introduction to their school in which they learn some of the confusing and sometimes hard lessons of life. Beta'ed by Mechante Fille" ^-^ *snugs* "The Boy Next Door"
Ch 9 “Trowa,” Quatre sighed, letting his book fall into his lap. “Will you please stop that? I have servants for that.” Trowa stilled instantly with the most god awful expression of shock and dismay on his face the blond couldn’t help by give in. “Fine,” he sighed again. “Two sugars, no milk.” Trowa smiled, adding the requested items to the tea cup before presenting it to the blond. “You need another pillow,” he concluded heading for the other couch in Quatre’s spacious study to fetch one in spite of his patient’s dejected groan. “You really don’t have to do this,” Quatre insisted… again. “It’s the least I can do,” the taller boy countered… again as he tucked the pillow behind him. “Are you cold? How about some pie?” “No,” Quatre stated firmly. His injuries hadn’t been near as bad as they looked, some of the lesser cuts having closed over and almost healed in the past week but the deeper one on his forearm had needed a couple of stitches, hence Trowa’s continued vigilance to serve and protect. “Master Quatre,” Rashid thrummed in his deep baritone as he strolled in, seeming to take up most of the space in the room with is larger than life presence. He eyed Trowa who was now fussing with tucking a blanket around Quatre’s feet before shrugging it off as the blond replied with a long suffering… “Yes?” “Master Winner will be arriving at St. John’s within the hour,” the large man informed him. “Will you be accompanying the greeting party?” Quatre glanced at Trowa before he quickly replied, “Yes, I believe I will. Sorry, Trowa but I suppose you’ll need to…” “I’ll get your coat,” Trowa cut him off, rising to do just that. Quatre grinned happily, putting down his tea cup and readying himself for a few hours of blissful solitude but his excitement deflated quickly when Trowa returned with his coat in hand and his own already zipped up and ready to go. “Trowa…” “Come on,” the taller boy coaxed, helping him to his feet and Quatre resisted the urge to remind him it was his arm that was injured not his legs. “The space port is a good hour away. You don’t want us to be late.” “No,” the blond sighed dejectedly, letting him pull his coat on for him. “You don’t understand. You can’t come…”“Why not?” Trowa cut in sharply. “Well,” Quatre fidgeted, glancing at Rashid but found no help there. “I haven’t had… that talk with him yet so you see…” “Oh,” Trowa waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. There’s nothing wrong with one friend helping out another is there?” he asked, buttoning up Quatre’s coat before wrapping a thick muffler around his neck. The blond looked pleadingly to his large bodyguard but received only an amused snicker for this effort. “Relax,” Trowa smiled, making sure the muffler was properly tied before he began slipping Quatre’s gloves on for him. “I won’t give you away,” he promised, almost making Quatre groan piteously before he suddenly stopped and asked, “U…unless you want to?” “NO!” Quatre barked, finishing his gloves himself. ** “Easy… not too fast….that’s it.” Duo paused in his efforts to teach Alice the delicacies of how to handle a homemade yoke when he heard the soft tap of a pebble against glass. “Think you can land this baby on your own?” “Yep!” she grinned, plopping down on the rec room rug while Duo headed for the window. “Trowa?” he hissed as quietly as he could and still be heard from the five feet his voice had to travel. “Get down here!” his tall friend rasped from the thicket of bushes below. “I can’t,” Duo whispered back, checking to make sure the coast was clear. “I’m babysitting. What’s up?” “It’s Quatre,” Trowa groaned, seeming at his wits end. “What’s wrong?” Duo was suddenly concerned. “He wants ‘congolias’!” Trowa hissed in frustration. “What the fuck is a ‘congolias’?” Duo hissed impatiently back. “I don’t know!” Trowa groaned. “I was hoping you could find out?” “You came here for that!?” Duo growled. “If she finds you here you’re gonna need fucking traction instead of congolias, whatever that is!” “Duo, please,” Trowa begged, going so far as to place his palms together and lean against the wall peering up at him. “I’m desperate, god damn it!” “You’re obsessed is what you are!” Duo hissed. “Cathy cornered me yesterday demanding to know where I’d locked you up! Have you even called her?” “Duo!” Trowa growled in frustration. “All right!” the long haired boy snapped. “Just wait…” “Duo?” “Yes?” Duo barked, snatching the window closed so fast Trowa yelped when his fingers were crushed. “Who are you talking to?” Mary Ann demanded, heading quickly for the window. “No one,” Duo shrugged, moving away. “Just seeing how cold it was outside.” “It’s bad enough you insist on traipsing around in the company of that traitorous letch Trowa Barton but I will not have him in this house!” she snapped, flinging the window open to glare at the empty bushes below. “Aw come on,” Duo replied. “He’s not that bad and besides he’s really changed lately. You’d hardly recognize…” “I never want to see his face again!” she snapped, storming off. Duo sighed, looking to the curious face of his six year old companion and shrugged. Alice mirrored the movement, then went back to her flight while Duo headed for the computer desk. It took him three tries before he finally figured out the correct spelling and discovered that ‘congolais’ were French biscuits made with coconut that he suspected couldn’t be found anywhere but the French restaurant downtown. He scribbled the word, its translation and the phone number of the restaurant on a piece of paper and moseyed casually over to the window again. Very carefully he folded the paper behind his back leaning nonchalantly on the sill and poking it through the crack before returning to his game with Alice. ** Quatre sighed happily in spite of his initial annoyance upon Trowa’s return. He wasn’t sure how he’d figured out what ‘congolias’ were, much less where he’d actually found them but between the biscuits, the hot tea and the backrub he was presently enjoying it seemed of little consequence. “Mmm,” he groaned as Trowa’s strong hands moved from his shoulders to his upper back, the tension the taller boy’s nearly constant presence caused slowly draining away under the masterful manipulations. “Gods you’ve got great hands,” Quatre moaned and Trowa paused only an instant as his ears pinked. He had been fully aware of what it was going to do to him to lay his hands on the blond boy’s supple body but was determined not to let it affect him. He swallowed the rising excitement as his fingers dug into the soft spots on either side of Quatre’s lower spine and the blond boy moaned softly again. It was more difficult than he’d thought having Quatre splayed out before him mostly naked save his boxers and a towel draped over his hips where he lay face down on the portable massage table Trowa had borrowed from a local parlor where Cathy often went. He felt the shiver in his spine when Quatre adjusted his hips, the arch of his spine curving delicately under his hands, prompting him to splay them across the narrow waist and press firmly pushing upward, his hips tilting forward the way they would if they were engaged in more pleasurable activities and he almost groaned when Quatre moaned again. He moved to the hands, the hands were safer ground. “You really don’t have to do this,” Quatre mumbled lazily as Trowa kneaded his palm. “What if I want to?” Trowa countered, tired of the usual argument. Quatre cracked an eye to peer at him but let it drop upon seeing Trowa’s tiny smile. “You can be very… sweet,” he smiled, letting his eyes drift closed again. “It’s no less than you deserve,” Trowa insisted, letting his hand rest on his thigh as he moved to his forearm. “You know,” Quatre tried again. “You don’t owe me anything. It was an accident.” “I know,” Trowa agreed though his fingers made sure not to press on the fading red scars on his arm. “You’re family probably misses you.” “I don’t really have one,” Trowa confessed, smiling when Quatre cracked a lazy eye again. “I spent a few years at the home with Duo,” he explained. “Until I was adopted but that didn’t really work out.” “What do you mean?” Quatre asked, groaning again when Trowa found a particular spot in his upper arm. “The couple that adopted me seemed ok at first but after a while I found out the hard way some people only adopt because they want a slave. I was ten and they expected me to do the laundry and scrub the tub. Hell, Bart, my adopted father, even made me cut firewood. The damn chainsaw was bigger than I was.” He laughed at the memory but Quatre wasn’t smiling. “Anyway, they kept refusing to let Duo come over and spend the night until he got pissed and started sneaking in my window at night. It was only a matter of time before we got caught and when we did Bart went off like a roman candle. That’s the first time I was ever actually afraid of another human being. If Duo hadn’t been there I don’t know what would have happened.” “What did happen?” Quatre asked. “Bart got angry and slammed me against the wall and Duo lost it. Came at him from behind, ham stringed him and almost crushed his throat. If he’d been any heavier he might have killed him but he was pretty scrawny,” he chuckled, moving to Quatre’s shoulder. “Tammy, his wife, heard the commotion and busted in to find Duo punching her unconscious husband in the face and me trying to drag him off.” “He really did that?” Quatre wondered, openly awed by the story. Trowa nodded. “Duo’s fiercely protective of his friends. Always has been. Anyone that can call himself such is damn lucky.” “You care for him deeply,” Quatre smiled softly. “He’s my brother,” Trowa mirrored the expression but it made Quatre snort. “What?” he chuckled, kneading Quatre’s shoulder. “Your relationship doesn’t always seem… platonic,” the blond smirked. Trowa blushed completely against his will but laughed it off. “Oh, there was a time I tried very hard to change his mind,” he confessed. “But he was never stupid enough to let me ruin it and now…” Quatre let the silence stretch out for a time before he prompted. “Now?” “Now I live with Cathy,” Trowa evaded. “She was my babysitter when all this took place. We’d become pretty close by the time it all fell apart. I went back to the home for a while once they found out what had been going on but the entire experience had messed me up I guess. Ended up seducing someone I shouldn’t have and getting myself kicked out. Cathy had kept in touch and offered to let me stay with her and I’ve been there ever since.” “No wonder you were so lonely,” Quatre softly intoned, bringing the brightest crimson glow to Trowa’s face he’d ever seen. He looked so utterly off balance, so remarkably cute and so irresistibly attractive Quatre couldn’t stop himself from firmly squeezing his thigh. Trowa’s eyes snapped open in surprise but he didn’t have the mind to run away until it was too late and Quatre’s fingers began to quest for his nether regions. “You shouldn’t.” he rasped, unable to stop his already simmering body from responding, his shaft growing hard so quickly he had to shift to accommodate it. “What if it’s what I want?” Quatre smiled, turning his own words against him. Trowa groaned as strong fingers found their mark, stroking him through the tight confines of his jeans, his blood coming to a steady boil with the contact and his mind so deep in the heat he barely recognized the opening of a door until Quatre’s hand suddenly jerked away. “There you are,” Mr. Winner commented, eyeing the strange position, absence of clothes and pink flush on his son’s skin. Trowa quickly picked the arm up again and began kneading the appendage. The action seemed to satisfy the man’s curiosity as he let the incident pass without comment, turning his attention instead to the matter he’d sought his son out for. Since his return from space Quatre’s father had tolerated Trowa’s presence with unexpected grace, seeming glad that his son had made such a good friend but both boys were wary of stepping over the line and educating him beyond what Quatre was currently comfortable with. There was a great deal of pressure on the blond to one day take over the family affairs and Trowa didn’t want to do anything to mess that up. Mr. Winner obviously loved his son as well, and thinking back to how Cathy had first reacted when he’d ‘come out’ he didn’t want to mess that up either. It’d taken him almost three months to get her to talk to him again; happily learning that she was furious he hadn’t been honest with her instead of the feared homophobia but there was never any guarantee the latter wouldn’t cause a permanent rift between loved ones. His mind drifted while the Winners talked, his hands giving way when Quatre decided he’d had enough and sat up to get dressed but Trowa was distracted by the pass the blond had made. He didn’t know quite what to make of it. Had he just felt sorry for him because of the sad state of his past? Or perhaps he just wanted another quick romp just for fun? Trowa thought back to that time in the woods and felt his body heat elevate but it came crashing down at the memory of the blond’s vacant eyes and cruel words. He wasn’t sure he could take that again but he was determined to make Quatre happy. For better or worse, if all he could do to atone for his sins was to allow himself to become Quatre’s toy for a while, he silently vowed that was exactly what he’d do. ** “One, two, three… one, two… nooooo,” Cammie whined, tugging on Duo’s pink tutu. “You’re doing it wrong,” she informed him for the forth time. “Watch,” she sighed, turning a pretty pirouette in the center of the rec room rug. He watched her intently, prissily floofing his tutu when it was his turn but just as he stepped forward there came a horrific scream from the garage. He was out of the house and slamming into the garage door before his tiny instructor had time to gape. “Mary Ann!” he shouted, his voice filled with fear until he got a look at what was going on. “I don’t believe you!” the young woman was growling, her hand quickly pushing at a small bench filled with a straight blade screw driver, a drill and several oddly shaped bits while Michael squirmed under her other arm. “It itches!” the boy snarled, managing to twist away, his fingers digging in to rip the remaining threads that were holding his cast on asunder and slamming it on the ground before bolting out the door. “Michael Talbert McCullin you get back here this instant!” she screamed furiously. “Whoa!” Duo barked, stepping in front of the fuming woman. “I’ll go after him. You go cool your jets,” he told her, scooping up the discarded cast and jamming his tutu in her hand before dashing off to grab both his coat and Michael’s and following the boy’s footprints in the light snowfall. It didn’t take that long to find him but Duo was unhappy with the fact that he’d decided to take refuge in the tree house in Hiiro’s back yard. The thing had been there for years though he’d never seen the Japanese boy use it. Still, there was no getting around having to face going in there so he took a deep breath and tried to put the fact that he hadn’t said two words to the boy next door since their kiss on the beach out of his mind. It wasn’t as if Hiiro hadn’t tried but every time he attempted to speak to him Duo froze up, unable to forget the hurt of being teased mercilessly because Hiiro had once mistaken him for a girl. He attributed a good deal of his difficulty in coping with his budding sexuality soon thereafter to the incident, making it difficult not to blame the Japanese boy for things that weren’t really his fault. That, coupled with the latent fear that Hiiro was only showing an interest because he’d seen him in drag had hammered a wedge between them he wasn’t at all sure how to deal with. The more pressing problem came back to him when he reached the tree and curled his fingers around the frozen boards that served as a ladder, pulling himself upward and into the small, square box nestled in the cradle of three huge oak limbs. “Hey,” he soothed the agitated boy who was curled into a tight, shivering ball in the far corner. “Here,” he said, offering the jacket but Michael merely grunted, refusing to take it. “Don’t be stupid,” Duo grumbled, tossing the thing at his face where he caught it and eagerly pulled it on. “It’s smaller than I thought,” Duo commented, looking around and shivering as he sat in a patch of melting snow. “You’ve been up here before,” he smiled, noting a pile of candy wrappers and a flashlight in one corner. “It was itchy,” the boy stated firmly. “Does it hurt?” Duo asked, eyeing the withered looking wrist. “A little,” Michael shrugged. “Can I see?” The boy stubbornly refused for a long moment before finally giving in to Duo’s patient smile. Duo looked it over deciding that he probably hadn’t broken it again, he was due to get it off the following week anyway but Michael’s creative solution to his discomfort had made that unnecessary. “Is it ok?” the boy asked hopefully. “Looks all right,” Duo nodded, returning his arm as he chuckled, “But I’m not so sure about Mary Ann.” “She’s really mad,” Michael agreed, stuffing his hands into his underarms. “You just scared her,” Duo countered. “You could’ve hurt yourself even worse with that drill.” “I’m not helpless,” the boy snipped defensively. “Obviously,” Duo chuckled, recalling some of the high jinx he used to get into. “You did a pretty good job,” he observed, bringing a mildly appreciative grin to the boy’s face. “It’s a clean cut. What’d you use? A cutting disk?” “Yeah,” Michael confirmed. “Just like you showed me. It was easy.” Duo grinned at the boast then paused as a funny tremor prickled along his skin when he saw the words ‘No fear – Hiiro’ inscribed on the chunk of plaster and gauze. “When did he…?” he asked no one in particular as his thumb brushed over the bright orange writing nestled among the many other pictures and well wishes on the cast. “Oh he did that a couple of weeks go,” Michael replied, startling Duo into the realization that he’d spoken the question out loud. “I was watching him chop wood,” the boy went on sounding a little grumpy as he explained. “But there wasn’t anywhere to put it. The bin was full. I don’t know what he did with it. Sometimes he’s weird like that. What’d he do to make you mad anyway?” “What?” Duo gasped, utterly taken aback by the question. “He said you won’t talk to him anymore,” Michael revealed. “Why not? I thought you were friends.” “I…” Duo began but couldn’t think of a single word to say to a twelve year old on the subject. “Well, he sure likes you,” the boy went on, thankfully oblivious to the odd reddening of Duo’s ears. “It’s always Duo this and Duo that. Did he ever give your CD’s back?” “My CD’s?” Duo echoed, feeling his mind begin to spin. “Yeah,” Michael nodded. “He said you said he could borrow them. That was a long time ago. He never gave them back? Is that why you’re mad at him?” “No…. I,” but again the words wouldn’t settle in his mind long enough to form a reply. Hiiro had con’ed Michael into stealing his CD’s? He’d thought Mrs. Sheebly confiscated them. “Well, you should make up,” Michael advised, growing tired of the cold and heading down the ladder. “Because if he keeps chopping wood there isn’t going to be any left for anybody else.” Duo sat in the cold of the tree house utterly confounded by this turn of events. Hiiro had scammed his CD’s then learned to play the songs but why? Was it really to impress him? His heart wanted to believe, longed to in the worst way possible but it all seemed so far fetched. His mind conveniently waved the fact that this had taken place long before Hiiro had seen him in a dress; long before the night he’d humiliated himself in front of the only person he’d ever longed to share his dreams with. He climbed down with a new outlook on things, his heart beating in a steady rhythm that carried with it an indomitable hope. Was it possible Hiiro really understood? That he knew deep down in his heart who Duo really was and wanted him anyway? He couldn’t stop the smile from curling his lips as he followed Michael’s footprints home and let it spread into a wide grin when he noticed that old man Higgins’ fire box was full to overflowing.
~ * ~ tbc... |
