Disclaimer -- I do not own Gundam Wing or any of it's characters.

Warning -- Language, Male/Male. The characters are OOC. I will post any other warnings as they come.

Pairing -- Quatre x Trowa, other pairings possible or changes in pairings stated.

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You know you've pretty much hit bottom when people you would normally look at strangely and move away from move away from you. Not that Trowa blamed them. He was laughing and mumbling to himself.

"'I just need you to make this last delivery. I'll even give you overtime pay off the books. It's a win/win situation.'" he said mimicking his boss.

It really had been a win/win situation for him. Until he was pulled over and then promptly arrested because the shuttle and contents inside had been reported stolen. And so for the last three days he has been a "guest" in this hellhole because he had no way out. His sister lived too far away to be of any help, and his current bedmate would never willingly step into a police station. And despite frequent phone calls, his boss, the fucking cause of this mess, was nowhere to be found. By this point, Trowa was convinced that his boss may not have been as clean as he thought, so he was resigned to the fact that he was the one going down for this crime. He wasn't delusional enough to think that his boss would come and confess his crimes to get Trowa off.

"Barton, you've got a visitor."

Trowa pulled away from the wall he was leaning on and looked at the guard. He couldn't be talking about him. No one knew where he was so who could possibly visit him? The guard unlocked the cell door and opened it.

"Let's go." he said looking directly at Trowa this time.

The guard led Trowa to the large visitor's room. There were already people inside, but none that Trowa recognized. He was then led over to a table where a gray haired older man sat. He screamed lawyer. Trowa quickly looked him over, Italian leather shoes, silk shirt and tie, designer suit, and an expensive briefcase. Trowa, or anyone he knew, would never be able to afford a high end lawyer like this, so why was this guy here to see him?

"Mr. Barton, I'm Gregory Crawford. Please call me Gregory. I'm here representing...."

"Quatre Winner." Trowa suddenly said.

The lawyer gave him a look that questioned how he knew. Trowa reached out and touched a small logo on his briefcase, a golden globe with a large W through it. W for Winner Unlimited. Quatre. He couldn't stop the humorless laugh from coming out of his mouth. From the very beginning he had been set up. His boss's insistence that Trowa, rather another worker who was next in line for overtime, take the job made even more sense now. If he hadn't agreed to the job then his boss wouldn't have gotten the huge payment that Quatre obviously offered to him. He knew that simply walking away from the Winner mansion that day wouldn't have ended anything. In fact, he expected to walk into his kitchen one morning and find Quatre sitting there drinking tea, not this elaborate scheme. For a second he thought about walking out and going back to his cell, but that would only be postponing the inevitable. It seriously wasn't worth the effort to try.

"Save the speech. I'll agree to go back." Trowa said as he sat down.

"I'll have you out of here in thirty minutes."

.

True to his word, Gregory had him out of free in thirty minutes. Any thoughts of true freedom were taken away as he was driven to a shuttle port and quickly put onto a private shuttle. Trowa watched four beefy men get on the shuttle after them. Gregory started to say something, but he noticed where his attention was.

"For your protection." he explained.

That earned him a look that told him exactly what Trowa thought of the obvious lie. They both knew that the mini-Hulks were there to keep Trowa in line. If they hadn't been there, he would've been long gone.

"I wasn't given clothes for you."

" I didn't expect you would be."

Gregory looked at him for an explanation but Trowa didn't give one. Instead he buckled up and closed his eyes so he could pretend to be asleep for the rest of the ride. All too quickly for his liking, they landed on L4. Trowa stepped off the shuttle and was quickly ushered outside to an awaiting limo. As they got closer to the Winner mansion, Trowa shivered slightly as he begun to feel trapped. This was the last place he wanted to be. Once there, he got out of the limo and quickly glanced around. This time no one was hovering around pretending to be busy so they could watch his arrival. He doubted his coming back was a shock or a secret. In fact, Trowa would bet money that they knew he was coming back even before he did. Bennett, Quatre's main assistant slash butler, was waiting for him. Gregory said a few words to him and then went in another direction.

"Good evening Mr. Barton."

"Bennett. Where's Quatre?"

"Mr. Winner is attending to some important matters. This way please."

Always with the games, Trowa thought. It wouldn't be arrogance or vanity for him to say that at the moment, he was the most important thing to Quatre. He followed him inside the front door and then over to the elevator. Once it came and they got on, Trowa pushed the two button just as Bennett pushed the three button. It took him a few seconds to remember what was on the third floor, the master suites. Hell no! This was one request, order, that he refused to do. Despite pressing the button, the elevator bypassed the second floor and stopped on the third. Bennett stepped off and looked back when Trowa didn't move.

"I'm sleeping in my old room." Trowa said.

"You have a new bedroom waiting for you."

"If the room's taken, I don't mind another one on the second floor."

Emphasis on the second floor.

"Those rooms are closed off and therefore haven't been prepared." Bennett explained.

"Quatre has the key right? I'll just wait for him then. You can leave me here."

"I've been instructed to stay with you until you are settled."

To Quatre's specifications and for however long it took was left unsaid. Trowa was tempted to continue to refuse sleeping on the third floor. However, he realized that he just would be taking his frustrations out on the wrong person. Bennett had absolutely no say in Trowa's treatment so he couldn't be blamed for this. He was just doing as he was told. Trowa stepped off the elevator and followed behind Bennett. Even though he had previously had lived here, Bennett felt it necessary to point out what each room was as they passed by. They walked in the master bedroom and Trowa wasn't surprised to see that Quatre hadn't redecorated. Since he was being forced to sleep here now, he really wished he had. It used to be Quatre's deceased father's room so sleeping in here was going to be slightly uncomfortable.

"Is there anything I can get for you?"

"I'm fine. I'm going to take a shower."

His seriously needed one after being in jail. Trowa headed towards the dressing room because he had to go through there to get to the bathroom. He stripped off his clothes and left them in the dressing room. He'd search for some clean clothes afterward. Bennett said something, but Trowa couldn't really hear so he didn't pay him any attention. Trowa made sure the water was as hot as he could stand before he got in. He stood there for a long while because it was refreshing to feel the water against his skin after the last few days. Forty-five minutes later, he decided he had been in long enough and got out. He wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped into the dressing room. He froze as he quickly realized that his clothes were gone and were replaced by a robe and noting else. He looked over at the intercom box on the wall. Would it even be worth it to call Bennett and ask for clothes?

"Probably not." he muttered to himself.

He understood that Quatre was trying to get his point across, but he was getting fed up with it. Trowa sat down on the small couch and began rubbing his temples while at the same time taking deep breaths. After a few minutes, he noticed that there was a tray of food on the small table in front of him. His stomach chose that moment to remind him that he hadn't eaten that much lately, so he began eating some of the food. Minutes later he was slumped across the couch sleeping. It never crossed his mind that the food could be drugged.

Thirty minutes after Trowa fell asleep, Quatre walked in the room. He hadn't wanted to drug him, but he had been told that Trowa had barely slept while in jail. And he'd bet that the same could be said for the trip here. Besides, he wanted him rested when they saw each other again after so long. Quatre couldn't wait to see that expressionless face overcome with anger. When provoked, Trowa could be as dangerous... beautiful... as those stupid cats he loved so much. He straightened Trowa on the couch and then knelt next to it so he could look at Trowa for a minute. Even after all this time, he was as gorgeous as ever. Quatre couldn't stop the smile from spreading across his face. He pushed Trowa's hair away from his face to see him better. And seeing how an unconscious Trowa couldn't resist, he didn't stop there. Quatre leaned forward so that he could bury his face in the crook of Trowa's neck and breathed deeply. It had been a long time since he had the pleasure of doing this.

After a few moments, he placed a few kisses on his neck and then slowly moved lower until he reached his chest. He pushed his robe open slightly and then ran his tongue across the nipple close to it and softly nibbled on it. Because of the higher dose of sedatives, Trowa didn't even stir. Quatre continued down the side of his body until he reached his hip, which he couldn't stop himself from sucking on to leave a mark. He brought his hand up and traced the line of light hair just under Trowa's naval down through his pubic hair and then along the length of his penis. Despite being happily content molesting the unsuspecting Trowa, Quatre forced himself to pull away. If he didn't stop now, then he was going to do something that would ruin everything. He had planned too long and too hard to screw this up just because he couldn't keep his lust in check. Quatre leaned his head against Trowa and sighed. He was one of the most powerful and influential men on earth and in the colonies. Yet all it ever took was an "insignificant circus clown" to bring him to his knees.