Title: To Friends
Author: Fluff
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Pairing: 2x3
Warnings: Yaoi, non-graphic sex, a bit of WAFF
Summary: Fears, often, are overlooked by soldiers, as well as denied. What happens when those fears surface, and comfort can be obtained in a cool pair of violet eyes?
Author's notes: This is my first published Gundam Wing piece, as some of you might be able to tell. I have others in the works, much longer, but I felt I should write a shorter, romantic piece. I adore the pairing of Duo and Trowa, and so many times in fics which involve the two, there are so many hurts and bad memories and awful situations that one wishes for something a bit ... lighter. So, this is my contribution. I hope it is enjoyed, and I welcome criticism with open arms. -Fluff
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing is copyrighted to its lawful owners, and I am not making a profit off this piece of canon impossibility.
To Friends
By Fluff
"To friends!" Quatre toasted, raising a crystal glass of too-expensive champagne. Such a bold statement turned four pairs of tired, but relieved eyes in his direction, and a quartet of goblets met his, chiming the end of an era.
"I meant it," Heero said blandly, as he took a tentative sip of champagne. "When I held that gun in Mariemeia's face - I meant it. I will never kill again."
"None of us will," Quatre replied, when no one else felt courageous enough to respond. "We no longer need to be soldiers." He turned a warm smile on each of his brothers-in-arms, contentment bubbling in his chest at his own truthful words. None of the five would ever have to hold a gun, if they chose not to - violence would not raise its loud voice to the men, and call for their attention. They were free.
"That being said, I don't know what to do with myself," Duo grinned, pouring himself a second glass of champagne. He sat directly beside Quatre at the too-large table, situated in the centre of the grand dining hall of one of the many Winner mansions, which seemed to pop up in every largely political nation since the end of the second war.
"Will you not go back into the salvage business on L2?" Wufei asked, sitting back in his chair, the giant feast from earlier weighing down his body, drawing him into the plush comfort of the expensive seat. "You appeared happy there, Maxwell. And now is the time to soak up that happiness - we are now allowed to."
"Scary thought," Duo murmured, his brows coming together in a focused tangle. "Ever since I was little, happiness was never really an option, you know? The five of us are gonna be lost now - except maybe you, Quatre. You're too cheerful for your own damn good." This last statement was met with a quiet scatter of chuckles - polite, and impersonal.
"One of us had to be optimistic," Quatre replied sadly, looking into his glass, as though searching for the answer to an unasked, but important question.
"You did a good job of it, do not worry," Wufei said, the barest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. With those kind words, Nataku's pilot stood up, nodding succinctly to the other four. "I'm afraid I must retire to bed. Good-night to you all." The others responding with enthusiastic nods and well wishes, a brief smile, and a stiff wave, respectively.
"I think I might follow suit," Quatre sighed, blushing slightly. "I've been busy with work, as has Wufei with the Preventers, so I hope you'll forgive me for cutting this night so short."
"Don't worry about it, Quatre," said Duo warmly, placing a companionable hand on the blond's arm. "You work too hard, anyway. On with you - go!" Quatre laughed at that, and hugged the braided brunet with one arm, then stood and walked round the table.
"Good-night, Heero. Trowa." He placed a hand on one shoulder of each man, squeezed briefly, and headed across the large hall. "And," he said softly, turning to face the three, "merry Christmas."
"You too, Quatre! Now go," Duo supplied, making shooing motions with his thin hands. The blond conceded, and left.
"And of course, I get stuck with the silent ones." Heero and Trowa exchanged a glance, a certain level of amusement lighting their eyes.
"Sorry, Duo," Trowa said, though he did not sound sorry at all - his voice was flat, as per his usual custom. "I'm sure you'll talk enough to fill the void. Or you might convince Heero - "
"I'm going to bed, too," Heero interrupted, standing abruptly. "You only have to suffer Trowa now, Duo." He nodded pithily to each man, and left without another word.
"Well - damn." Duo stared at Trowa, who sat one seat down.
"I guess that leaves the entire conversation up to you, then," Trowa said steadily, finishing his glass of champagne, and filling another.
"Not fair," Duo grumbled, slumping in his chair, his eyes roving to the too-high ceiling. They sat in silence for ten minutes, each managing to finish a helping of champagne, and get through half another.
"Were you happy on L2?" Trowa asked suddenly, not sounding at all interested in the answer. However, Duo knew Trowa was not one to waste words, and was in all actuality curious, even if his voice refused to betray such a thing.
"No," Duo replied flatly, miserably even, which earned the self-proclaimed God of Death a raised eyebrow. "I've only ever been happy while flying."
"You too?"
"Too? Really? I never thought you'd be happy - at all," Duo said sheepishly, afraid he might have offended Trowa.
"Flying, and working at the circus, if you'll believe it, made me happy," the Silencer replied, appearing shy.
"No shit?"
"No shit."
"Huh." Duo gave Trowa an appraising glance, as if sizing up a stranger - for what else, really, was Trowa? Duo knew nothing about the other man, and that bothered him.
As a child growing up, Duo found the easiest way to find out every ones' secrets was through physical affection. A gentle hug might have made a companion sob and tell of horrific nightmares that stalked him in his sleep; a sweet caress could have wrought a confession of sin. So, Duo put this into practice - he slid over one seat, a shy smile on his face, and situated himself beside Trowa, before wrapping tentative arms around the other man.
"Duo, what - "
"Merry Christmas, Trowa," Duo whispered - for he could whisper, with his lips so close to Trowa's ear. "It's the first one I can remember where I'm not scared that I won't see my next." Silence met him, but Duo did not remove his awkward embrace from Trowa's shoulders, for delicate hands rested lightly on his ribs.
"I thought you didn't get scared?" was the whispered reply. Somehow, the two men had managed to shrink the grand hall to the size of just two lavish chairs, and the air became warm and intimate.
"I get scared," Duo said, his arms wrapping ever tighter about Trowa. In return, the other slid his hands round to rest on the small of Duo's back.
"What are you scared of?"
"Death," Duo said, his voice a bit haunted. "Plain and simple." He rested his cheek on Trowa's shoulder, settling in. "You?"
"Life." Duo shivered at the breathy word, and Trowa tugged him closer, so that the former Deathscythe pilot straddled his lap. They were a sight, to be sure, arms thrown round each other, as if holding on to land like drowning men. If someone were to have walked in, he might have thought lovers shared the embrace, not two murderers clinging to one another out of hope, and pain, and loneliness.
"Hey, Trowa?" Duo asked, his voice low.
"Yes?"
"It's late."
"Is it?"
"Yeah. We should get to bed."
"Okay." Neither made a move to disentangle their bodies, only held onto the other more strongly.
"We've gotta get up early to open presents."
"Yeah, I know."
"Hey, Trowa?"
"Yes?"
"I have nightmares."
"Me, too."
"Do they scare you?"
"Yes. You?"
"Big time. Hey. Trowa..."
"Yes, Duo?"
"Wanna sleep with me tonight?"
"Yes."
"Okay."
---
Duo sat stiffly on the edge of Trowa's too-large bed, watching the other man move about the room with efficiency. He eventually pulled two drab t-shirts from the grand armoire, and came to sit beside Duo, handing him one of the garments.
"Thanks," Duo said, and began unbuttoning his dress shirt. Trowa did the same, only Deathscythe's pilot noticed how the elegant fingers shook. With each button loosed from its keeper, the fingers trembled more and more. Finally, Duo stood, with his back to Trowa, and smiled. "I won't watch, so go ahead." The soft rustle of fabric told Duo that Trowa was doing just that, quickly and comfortably.
"Okay, I'm done," Trowa supplied, and Duo turned back, and nearly smiled at the sight before him. There sat Trowa, shirtless, blushing, his eyes to the ground, his hands fisted in the comforter at his sides.
"Trowa - "
"I'm not tired, Duo." The braided brunet could only stare as Trowa raised his eyes, and a fire like none past seen burned there. Something in Duo's stomach clenched at the words, at the eyes, and he fell forward into an open embrace, and tumbled Trowa back onto the bed. Hesitant, clumsy lips met, and callused fingers twined themselves together. It was warm, and comfortable, and right as they lay together, lips moving over each other, brown hair spilling into brown. Both men kept their eyes open during the gentle kiss, boring deep and questing for answers.
Eventually, they broke apart, their breathing even, their bodies relaxed. There was no fevered pitch to their movements, no demands, no tugging or scratching or biting, just simple, loving caresses and gentle nips and beautiful movement. Neither had ever shared anything so intimate before, even with themselves, but they enjoyed it so immensely, that when they both cried out in pleasure, they stayed twined together till the sun rose.
"Hey, Trowa?" Duo whispered, laying atop the other, his head resting on the firm chest, his hips still pressed against Trowa's backside.
"Yes?"
"I'm not scared."
"Me, either."
"Trowa?"
"Yes, Duo?"
"Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas to you. too," Trowa replied lazily, his voice soft. His hips ached from staying at an awkward angle for so long, but he welcomed the pain, the warm throb, for there was nowhere he would rather have been than below Duo, on that beautiful Christmas morning.
-fin-