By: Mad Mary Kidd
Pairings: 3+4
Warnings: Just a bit of tension... Lime, or perhaps just a satsuma
Disclaimer: I don't own the boys, or anything to do with GW, blah blah, usual spiel. So don't sue me
Intro: Quatre POV. Just another little "what if" fantasy I guess. The usual idea - a terrorist mission. Trowa and Quatre are creating a diversion, but why isn't important so I haven't bothered to explain. Quite an interesting one as it turns out, because I usually have to get a bit of snogging in there somewhere, and I've managed to resist for once
Unspoken
The unspoken agreement was fine with Quatre. It meant that he didn't have to kill anyone, at least not today. It wasn't as if he had never done it before, but it wasn't something that he thought he'd ever get used to. So when Trowa had picked up the rifle and left the bag of explosives for his partner for this mission, Quatre had been quite relieved; not that he would have admitted this. He wondered whether Trowa might have made the decision consciously, to allow his friend - were they friends? Quatre certainly hoped so - not to have to worry about killing anyone.
He pondered this as he carefully set the timer on the bomb, while Trowa guarded the door.
"Are you done?" asked Trowa softly. There was no hint of impatience in his tone, although he had every reason for wanting to get out of there.
"Almost. I just have to connect up the detonator - " he pushed a tiny plug into its' corresponding socket - "And I'm done. Let's go."
He pressed the activation switch and stood up slowly, stretching the cramp out of his legs. "That should cause enough of a diversion for Duo to get in unnoticed," he said, smiling. Trowa did not return the smile, but peered around the edge of the door, to check the corridor. When he was satisfied, he pushed the door open wider and slipped through. Quatre followed, trying to keep his eyes from straying below Trowa's waistline.
Be professional, he told himself. You need to concentrate if you want to get out of here alive.
Suddenly Trowa froze; Quatre, lost, ironically, in trying to keep his mind on the job in hand, almost walked right into him.
"There's someone coming," whispered Trowa.
As one, they turned and fled back down the corridor. Quatre, on the way in to the base, had noticed a few suitable hiding places and now headed for the nearest one. To his mingled horror and secret delight, it turned out to be the smallest - a storage cupboard.
"Quick!" He whispered frantically to Trowa. "In here!"
Trowa barely had time to throw Quatre a 'you've got to be kidding' look before the sound of footsteps was once again audible along the corridor behind him. Quatre gestured wildly, gave in and dove into the cupboard pulling Trowa after him, and shut the door.
They stood facing each other, Trowa with his back to the door, as there was no room to turn around; if either had been much bigger they wouldn't have got in at all. Not that this was foremost in Quatre's mind.
He licked his lips nervously in the darkness, glad that Trowa would not see him blush. Pressed together as they were, Quatre could feel Trowa's chest moving in and out, feel his breath on his cheek. He tried to manoeuvre himself away from Trowa a little, so that the other might not notice the Arabian's body reacting to the close proximity, but Trowa grasped his arm and whispered, "quit wriggling."
Quatre was sure his friend sounded a little more out of breath than he should; after all, they'd hardly run at all. Perhaps...
His brain froze at the sound of the footsteps that had finally caught them up. To his horror they stopped right outside the door. He held his breath, and felt Trowa do the same. Of it's own accord, his hand sought Trowa's wrist and squeezed it.
His heart almost stopped when the handle of the door made a sound as if someone had just grasped it. Quatre's free hand flew to his mouth, but the door didn't open. Instead, he heard someone call out, and a muffled reply from the other side of the door. A brief conversation began outside, but even had the words been clear, Quatre still wouldn't have heard them. After a few heart stopping moments the conversation seemed to end. Suddenly Quatre was once again aware of Trowa's body, and he could feel the blush creeping back. He realised he was still gripping Trowa's arm and let go, feeling sheepish.
To his amazement, he felt Trowa's fingers seek out his own, and squeeze them gently. He stared down into the darkness, to the rough area where their hands would be, hardly daring to breathe, and suddenly sensed, through the changing air currents, Trowa moving his head down and towards him, and jerked his own head up in surprise.
Oh my God, he's going to kiss me -
Without warning the door was flung open, and Quatre heard a gasp as the Oz soldier saw them both, and then a grunt as the butt of Trowa's rifle hit the man squarely in the stomach, making him double over. With balletic grace Trowa spun around and out of the closet, swinging the rifle in a wide arc, the peak of which connected with the soldier's temple.
All this happened in the space before Quatre breathed out again. When he did, the soldier was lying unconscious in the corridor, and Trowa hadn't even broken a sweat. Quatre was torn between redoubled admiration for his friend, and guilt at his own slow reactions.
"Help me get him in there," said Trowa softly, gesturing the cupboard. Quatre noticed that his friend wouldn't quite look him in the eye, but decided not to press it. He also noticed that Trowa's hands were shaking slightly as the two of them pulled and shoved at the soldier to get him into the cupboard.
As they were about to shut the door, a crackling voice rang out, making Quatre jump.
"Checkpoint five, report," said the voice.
"Damn, he's got a radio," muttered Trowa distractedly, half to himself. He began to turn the man over to look for the thing but Quatre stopped him.
"I see it," he said, and pulled it quickly from the man's belt.
"Checkpoint five reporting, all clear," he said into the radio, and waited for the reply before tossing it into the cupboard to rest on it's owner's lap. Trowa shut the door.
They looked at each other quickly, then away. Quatre took a deep breath.
"We better get going, I guess. We have about five minutes less now before the bomb detonates." Trowa nodded and, with a quick nervous glance at Quatre, made his way down the corridor.
Quatre followed, feeling disappointed and embarrassed at the same time. They had been so close...
But then, what if he'd imagined it? What if, instead of going to kiss him, Trowa had just been getting ready to thrust the rifle behind him? What if his ears were sharper than Quatre's, and he'd heard the soldier outside? What if Quatre wanted so much for Trowa to return his affection that he would see it where none existed?
Why had Trowa taken his hand, then? If it was just a gesture of reassurance, it wasn't one Quatre would use with someone he considered merely a friend.
Now wasn't the time to be thinking about this, Quatre decided; putting potential kisses, real or imagined, out of his mind, he followed Trowa out of the base and into the night.
OWARI