Title: Belonging

Pairing: Char/Garma

Notes: AU from ep. 10, "Garma Falls." Written for and inspired by my friend Azelma. Somehow "Garma Z." is not listed as a character in the drop down menu. What the hell? Oh well.

His eyes were exactly the same as when they'd seduced him back at the academy.

That familiar ripple of fearful delight rolls through Char as it had back then, too, watching Garma, still in uniform, languidly stretch out on the standard issue double bed. Those gorgeous brown eyes don't release his as he does, silently conveying meaning better than words ever could.

Knowing his legs will betray him if he moves, Char smiles but stands rock still. Water drips off his hair, running in small rivulets down his back. He expected Garma's visit, though not while he was showering, and is pleased by how calm he feels. "I didn't come here for recreation."

Garma smiles that self-assured smile of his. "Since when has that ever stopped you?"

Garma's officially now spent more time on that bed than Char, the irony of which doesn't escape him. "I have important things to do tonight, you know."

One finely groomed eyebrow raises. "More important than me?"

It's so typically Garma that Char can't help but laugh and that feels so good he laughs for a while long. Garma's a fucking Zabi and the antithesis of everything Char's ever thought he wanted in a partner, and yet it's taking every fiber of his being not to drop his towel and climb over and just straddle him. "Of course you didn't really come here to discuss the Trojan Horse." His smile broadens at the gentle flare of Garma's nostrils, the only sign the comment perturbs him.

"Don't play games with me, Char." His voice is low, the gentle playful tone abandoned.

Char doesn't remember dropping the towel, but his knees are on the foot of the bed now, Garma's beautiful, terrible face looming that much closer. "Oh? Have things changed so much? I recall you being quite fond of games once."

Despite the towel now pooled on the floor, Garma's eyes remain steadfast, fixed on Char's face. "We're not children anymore."

"We were ever?"

Instead of answering, Garma reaches up, unhooking the catch at the collar of his uniform. A simple twist of his wrist pulls the lapel down, revealing a column of neck that is entirely too tantalizing given Char's state. His eyes don't waver. "Don't stand there and act like you don't want me."

Wet and naked, Char knows his physical interest is not something he can convincingly deny much longer. He's losing this battle he never particularly wanted to win and realizes it's time to switch tactics. "Have you really missed me that much?"

Garma tosses his head, laughing. "Don't flatter yourself."

"You let yourself into my private quarters while I was in the shower and went right into one of your more effective seduction techniques once I got out. What else should I think?"

Garma's eyes narrow, bronzed-steel calculating, changing gears to keep up. "I did miss you." He languidly wriggles out of his jacket, tossing the expensive, finely pressed uniform to the floor in a heap. His undershirt does little to conceal the sinewy biceps and broadened shoulders two years of dedicated effort have helped fill out.

Char resists the desire to rub his palms over those smooth muscles. "Really."

Garma sits up, bringing them that much closer. "Is it really so hard to believe? My father can give me everything I need, but nothing I really want."

"I thought we were over this." Char catches his breath as Garma finally makes contact, running his fingers over Char's still-damp shoulders.

"It would seem you were wrong."

He should want to slide his hands up Garma's chest, press his thumbs into Garma's throat and crush the life out of him, but he doesn't. Instead, those strong hands press knots out of his shoulders and those warm eyes regard him with thinly veiled longing.

Everything is too familiar. It's comfortable in a way Char's not used to. It reminds him of being back at the academy; when he still thought he was the one seducing Garma, trying to get close enough to learn Zabi secrets; to make it personal when he betrayed and killed Garma.

"I don't like being wrong," he says, but doesn't pull away from Garma.

"Then maybe you should stick to following my orders."

Whatever he had with Garma back at the academy was real and that was what scared him; made him end it and run.

The academy was the closest to belonging Char's ever felt; that he associates being with Garma as part of it doesn't help him push those hands away. Once more, feelings of wanting this war against his need to crush the Zabis, flaring in the same calm panic he'd dealt with back then.

It's so fucking easy to hate Garma when he's not there, alive, in front of him, stirring up emotions. It's so easy to want to kill him, like he should, when they're not face-to-face.

And it's so fucking hard to kneel there, stock still, and resist kissing that welcoming mouth when it's so near, promising such delights.

Char's so close to giving in and following orders like the good soldier he is when Garma coils his fingers in Char's damp curls and says, "Ah, Mr. Red Comet. What're you so afraid of?" He smirks, though it doesn't quite touch his eyes. "It's just sex. You can't deny wanting it."

Char remembers the last days of the academy; the moment their . . . relationship suddenly tried to cross from casual to serious; the things Garma promised to keep him from leaving, and the sheer terror that over took Char's usual calm panic. Garma wanted more and Char . . . he'd had no choice but to flee. His carefully constructed plan had all fallen apart. "Is that really all?"

"What else would it be?" Garma's mouth is close enough that his breath blows warm over Char's lips. His fingers untangle from Char's curls, ghosting down over pecs and abs to stroke something much more persuasive. "I know you. I know sex was never the issue."

Char clenches his teeth, but he still can't help sucking in air at Garma's touch. It's been a long time and he wants to give into this. He wants so badly to belong again, just once more, especially if he's to finally kill Garma tomorrow.

Garma deserves that much at least, doesn't he?

His hands finally lift, resting on Garma's hips, and Garma sighs, knowing he's won. Char pushes the undershirt up until he can rub his thumbs against the soft skin beneath. "It's just sex."

Garma pulls his undershirt off. "Just sex."

It's more than sex, and Char knows it the moment he finds himself on his back with Garma the one straddling him, wantonly riding him. He looks up into a curtain of hair and meets Garma's intense gaze. Flooded with pleasure, Char doesn't think, just says, "I forgot how good you were."

Garma flashes him a wicked smile and takes his words as a challenge, rocking his body in a way that makes everything that came before it feel like foreplay. "You always were so complimentary." He's sweating, but doesn't sound winded even as he rides Char harder.

It's better than it ever was before, Char's sure of it, or else he somehow blocked how phenomenal Garma was in bed. It's so good he doesn't last as long as Garma deserves and within minutes is a quivering, gasping heap beneath him, wondering why he ever wanted to stop doing this.

If it bothers Garma, he doesn't show it, smiling self-satisfied down at Char. "All right?"

It takes a few seconds for Char to catch enough breath to reply. "Yeah." His arm feels like lead, but he lifts it until he can touch the ends of Garma's hair, running the soft locks through his fingertips the way he used to. "Your hair has gotten so long."

Garma hasn't released, but other than the beads of sweat standing on his brow, he appears completely calm about the fact. "And yours." He catches Char's hand and draws it closer, to tangle in his hair and cup his cheek. "Char."

That tickle of terror threatens to rise in Char, but the euphoria he's still riding cancels it out. "Garma?"

For a moment, it appears as if Garma will say something deep, but at the last second, he rubs his free hand down his chest to his groin and gives himself a stroke. "Aren't you forgetting about something?"

Char drops his hand from Garma's cheek so he can prop himself up on his elbows and get a proper look. He's done very well not to think about Garma over the years, but now he wants nothing more than to pull Garma into his mouth and suck him until he screams in ecstasy.

That it's the cock of a Zabi prince he wants to suck just makes it better, and the shame and guilt he feels knowing that amplifies the pleasure. "I can't do it from here."

Garma languidly strokes himself a few more times, his eyes never leaving Char's.

Even with the growth of two years, his weight is still slight enough Char could easily push him off, but that's not the point. They've played this game before, and Garma likes pinning Char down almost as much as Char enjoys Garma pinning him.

"A pity. I suppose I'll have to move." He does, pulling off Char with a sigh, but he doesn't go far. It's not exactly an easy position, but Garma's soon kneeling over Char's shoulders, forcing Char to further prop himself up so he can get to work.

It's just degrading enough to be a turn on, and Char relishes the feel and taste of Garma in his mouth again, as well as his ability to thoughtlessly slide his hands over Garma's strong thighs and tight buttocks as he works his tongue and throat. It affords him a perfect view of Garma's face as he strains to hold back his emotions and ultimately fails.

Though he hasn't practiced in a long time, Char remembers how to play him; knows exactly what Garma likes and what tricks cause him to gasp and shiver. He remembers late nights at the academy when they did this in the shower stalls or snuck out to cruise for dates only to end up together in a filthy bathroom stall somewhere.

Garma tangles his hands in Char's curls again, struggling not to thrust into Char's mouth. "That's the Char I remember." His voice finally sounds strained, and Char redoubles his efforts until Garma's eyes screw closed. "Yes, you're good at this, Aznable."

Char pauses for effect, eliciting the obligatory, "Don't stop, don't stop," chant from Garma.

It's nice to do this after he's already gotten off, so he can focus on his technique and properly pleasing Garma. It isn't until Garma's nails are biting into his shoulder as he cries out his orgasm that Char realizes that was exactly what Garma had intended all along.

Char expects Garma to sit on his chest, pinning him there to continue their chat, and so is surprised when Garma slides down to stretch out on the bed beside Char. It's narrow enough that Char shifts to hold Garma in place, one of his hands instantly going to toy with the ends of Garma's hair.

"You're an idiot, you know," Garma says, his face pressed against Char's shoulder.

"Mm." He coils a smooth lock of hair around his index finger. "What for this time?"

Garma doesn't answer, but he rolls on his side, facing Char, and gently rubs his palm against Char's chest.

Char wasn't sure what to expect after this, but it's not silence. It takes him a moment to realize the answer is supposed to be so obvious he can figure it out himself. "I'm not a mind reader."

"That much is obvious." Garma draws whorls through his chest hair until Char reaches up and stops him by lacing their fingers together. Silence descends again before Garma takes a deep breath and props himself up. "Tell me that wasn't the best sex you've had since . . . since the last time we had sex."

Char's too tired and boneless to argue. "You're incredible."

For a moment, Garma's dumbstruck by the compliment. It takes him a moment to reorder his thoughts, and Char enjoys seeing him temporarily speechless. "Then what is your problem?"

Undoubtedly due to the interruption, it's an inelegant question, which is a pity considering Garma's usual eloquence. "Problem?"

"With us. With this. We could have this every night. What are you so afraid of?"

The tickle of fear tries to flare again, but the most Char can do is protest the words. "Who says I'm afraid of anything?"

"Perhaps the million miles you put between us after you ran out of the academy?"

"I was given an assignment. I can't disobey orders. Not even for Prince Garma."

"You don't have to be here to be mine."

The words pull at something deep inside Char. He doesn't reply as he tries to quell the longing in his heart for the chance to truly belong to someone.

"We could make it work." Garma's voice is quiet, but intense. "Together, the two of us would be unbelievable. Think about it, Char. It could be so good. It could always be this good."

It takes considerable effort, but Char manages to remember himself and who he's with. "You're practically begging, Garma. It's unseemly. I told you this was just sex."

"Begging?" Garma laughs. "That's not what this is. Not any more than if you expect me to believe this was 'just sex' for you." His gaze shifts to their entwined hands. His fingers tighten in Char's. "I'm not asking you to marry me," he says, his tone softer. "I just want to be with you, and everything about you says you want to be with me, too, except your words."

Char's sweating again and hopes Garma can't feel his heart pounding through his chest. "That is a fairly big contender."

Garma turns to steel. "Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't want to be with me."

It's exactly this that Char has feared since they first started this . . . thing between them. This is the moment where the truth and the lies overlap and blur. This is when everything Uncle Jimba told him falls away and Char loses by winning Garma, letting the Zabis win.

And yet, in that moment, there is no way to answer Garma except with the truth. The truth that, deep down, Char would rather lose with Garma than win without him.

He tightly squeezes his eyes shut, feeling the tilt of the world. "I'll stay," he whispers. "I can't promise anything, but . . ." He clenches his teeth together hard. "But, I want to stay."

Garma's mouth presses to his neck, then his cheek and then, briefly, his mouth. "That's enough, for now. Thank you."

Char will figure this out in the morning, after he's had some caffeine and can think clearly again. He's tired and Garma feels safe and warm, no matter how wrong that seems. "Can I go to sleep now?"

Garma gives him a pinch, alleviating the tension in the room. "Don't you want to brush your teeth?"

Unable to help himself, Char smiles and rolls over, throwing an arm around Garma to snuggle and pin him in place. "In the morning. We'll take care of everything in the morning."

Chuckling, Garma toys with Char's curls and nods.

There's no time for celebrations in the morning. They're not even through breakfast when everything changes and Char finds the tables suddenly turned again. Once more Garma is far away, faceless in his Gaw; the Trojan Horse is within their grasp and Char holds the fate of the youngest Zabi son in his hands.

Raising his Zaku, he watches the Gundam retreat and suddenly sees everything.

It's easy to tell where the Trojan Horse is hiding. That Garma doesn't immediately guess the sports dome almost makes Char want to betray him just for such obvious stupidity. It would be so easy to take his revenge now; to let the Trojan Horse finish the job for him. Then he'll never have to worry about betraying Uncle Jimba or falling under Garma's seductive spell again.

Lightning strikes not far from his Zaku and Char shivers from imagined cold.

The memory of waking in bed with Garma returns, and Char sees a different picture of tonight, just as clear: the Trojan Horse and the Gundam in Zeon's hands, Garma a hero, the war virtually over and Char never going to bed alone again.

It's a fool's dream and he knows it, but there is some merit in it. This is the perfect opportunity to capture the Gundam and crush the Federation. He can take his revenge on Garma another day. Should Zeon falter because of Char's personal vendetta?

He presses the communications link and suddenly there's Garma. "I've been waiting, Char."

Unspoken words bubble in Char's chest, paths branching out in different directions. He closes his eyes behind his mask and sees the bed back at the academy that he and Garma used to squeeze in to share; the only place he's ever really belonged. "The Gundam is drawing us away from the sports dome," he hears himself say. "That must mean the Trojan Horse is behind us, hiding there. Capture her, Garma. Make it look good."

"We're on it!"

The link goes dead, but Char doesn't immediately continue after the Gundam. For just a moment, he's frozen in place, watching Garma's Gaw and the ships as they alter course and head toward the dome. This is it, and he knows it. They've all but won. Tonight they will celebrate him along side Garma. Tonight he won't sleep alone.

Lightning strikes again, jolting Char from his reverie. He rescans for the Gundam and takes off after it. "I'm sorry, Uncle Jimba," he breaths as he gives chase. "Maybe I'll kill him tomorrow."