Disclaimer: I own nothin'
Pairings/Warnings: 3x5, implied 1x2 past 6x3, m/m sexual relations, angst, bad language, un-beta'd
A/N: I kinda ship 3x5 hard and have never written it. And here it ended up hella angsty. But Peacemillion smut will forever be a fave of mine.
Once
There was nothingness, even damn worse than nothingness, and he was weightless, enveloped in darkness. His breathing was short, each breath maybe his last as his supply was limited and he closed his eyes, letting himself accept death in the blankness of space.
His chest heaved and then he spluttered, his air supply obviously becoming low and he coughed, tried to breathe in, tried to get air into his lungs but he failed, and his eyes started to blur, his head started to feel light, wrong, weird and his lips, chapped and dry and bleeding from where he'd bitten down, opened, murmuring out a word into his helmet, unheard by anyone.
"Quatre."
It was then he felt hands on his shoulders and Trowa sat up abruptly, instincts driving him to reach for a blade stored underneath his pillow – old habits died hard and he'd kept a blade hidden with him at all times. The mercs he'd spent his childhood, well some of them had young tastes and he had fulfilled that. Just none of them touched him unless they wanted to lose an eye, a finger or find themselves stabbed.
Of course, it was Quatre who he had a blade poised against his throat, Quatre who looked at him with bright eyes and concern and Trowa took a moment to realise where he was, that Quatre wasn't a threat and lowered his knife, ran his fingers through his hair, put his fingertips to his temples where a dull throbbing headache echoed.
"Trowa?" he asked, his voice dripping with concern and Trowa shrugged away from the blond, wanting some distance as he returned to reality, the haunting dreams beginning to recede.
"Bad dream."
The words were abrupt, harsh but Quatre backed off like he wanted, as Trowa moved, swung his legs over the side of the metallic bunk, held his head in his hands a little wearily. He had been having bad dreams since his memories came back, since ZERO and also mind-splitting headaches that made him sick to his stomach. He hadn't confided in Quatre those things as he saw how he looked hurt and worried at him all the damn time and Trowa was finding it difficult to deal with when they were trapped in the cycle of time aboard Peacemillion - battles, then the return to Peacemillion to regroup. Harder when he was finding sleep hard, when the headaches were intense, when he was trying to drag his body to each fight.
"Do you need anything? Food? Water?"
Trowa shook his head and waved his hand. "I'll get something, don't worry."
Quatre looked disappointed but relented, walking across the thin space to where his own bunk was, grabbing something to put into his pocket. "There's a briefing. You need to come."
"I will."
The words, awkward between them stopped with one meaningful look between them, Quatre looking guilty and worried, Trowa's face a steely line of grim determination. He didn't know what Quatre wanted from him, as he watched the blond leave their shared accommodation aboard the cramped quarters of Peacemillion, but Trowa knew whatever it was he couldn't give it to him. If he wanted forgiveness, Trowa had already done that but he wanted something more, absolution, some saviour and Trowa was none of those things. He lay back on the bed briefly, looking up at the dull grey metal ceiling and then grabbed his knife again, twirled it once in his grasp before he gathered his clothes, dressing quickly so he could join the others.
He was last in the control room, Duo was leaning against a wall casually, Heero had his arms folded across his chest and was staring at his shoes, Quatre was talking to Noin and Wufei was stood straight backed, his black eyes giving Trowa a searching glance. Trowa merely gave him a nod back and walked towards the other's, Heero acknowledging his arrival and existence then.
"Zechs has a new plan," he said, his voice cold and level, directing his words towards Trowa and he kept his face neutral, impassive. "He's increasing the attacks."
"That means the final battle's coming, right?" Duo asked and Heero nodded, looking at Duo and Trowa saw the look was not as steely or harsh as the one Trowa had received. Of course, that was because Duo let Heero fuck him hard against the shower walls, in the cockpits of their Gundams, against the hard metal bunks aboard Peacemillion. And while that look was not exactly affectionate, it was as near as he'd see Heero Yuy get.
"What's his motive?" Quatre asked.
"I think he's lost all motive," Heero replied and his eyes levelled again at Trowa and he returned that gaze without flinching. "He wants to destroy us and anything that gets in his way."
Trowa knew why Heero was directing those words at him but then he was not going to say anything in front of the others and they didn't notice their exchange of glares. Quatre was too concerned with Noin and her feelings for Zechs and Duo was too interested in hanging off Heero's words that Trowa thought their glares were ignored. But he turned, saw Wufei, and his eyebrow was raised and he could tell, damn it, that he knew and was mocking him. Trowa looked up at the screen, at the tactics and then turned out of the control room.
"I have a migraine," he said, Quatre asking him a few questions but he ignored them, saying he'd go to his bunk and sleep it off.
He walked towards his bunk, feeling himself itch and annoyed at Heero's accusations in his eyes. As he believed then, really, it had been Heero's fault as Heero had been so fucking naïve to Trowa's feelings, intentions back then, and when Trowa had tried to show him, Heero's reciprocation had been a punch to the face. Which while Heero had given him some signals, Heero didn't know what signals were and Trowa just hadn't known then about the boy with the braid and big blue eyes. He just hadn't expected the punch to the face at the Barclay Base in Antarctica, hadn't expected Zechs to be there, all reassuring, his hand on Trowa's shoulder.
Trowa wasn't like Heero and when Zechs had touched him on the gangway next to his hulking Gundam, he'd understood what Zechs expected and wanted and Trowa wasn't anywhere near virginal. So when the mask had been removed, the blond hair spilling over his shoulders, Trowa had leaned up to the kiss, leant into the man, into his firm muscles, into his body, and when Zechs had taken him back to his room, a commanders room, Trowa had been surprised to find himself prepared with care. He had expected to be bent over and fucked dry, but Zechs was careful, a slick tongue sucking his dick as fingers scissored and stretched. And when Zechs fucked him, Trowa on his back, then on his lap, Zechs had not kissed him on the mouth but he had lapped and sucked at his throat, made sure he came, and helped him lie bonelessly on his bed until he was recovered enough to dress, to go back to Heavyarms, and calibrate the machine for Heero, loyally, despite the confused feelings.
"Once," Trowa had said as he left, the word low and barely heard as he left.
For a one-time thing it had been good and yet he didn't tell Zechs that, only left. And Heero judged him for that, for a hormonal teenage need. Just because he slept with Zechs Merquise once did not cloud his allegiances, his loyalty, and he resented Heero's glares and glances at him as much as he hated the way his eyes softened at Duo.
He'd reached his room, pushing himself the rest of the way and floating in partial grav, stopped himself on the railing and was about to push the button to his room when he heard the touch of feet on the metal floor and he turned.
"Chang."
"Barton."
Trowa stood then, glaring a little at being followed and especially by Wufei, whose eyes seemed to search through him.
"Winner wanted to come but I suggested his presence may irritate more than soothe."
Trowa snorted, the exhale of air making his hair move and he stared down at Wufei, almost ready to bare his teeth. "I just need some sleep."
He didn't need sleep, perhaps that was the last thing he needed as in sleep, he was haunted by the thoughts of dying alone in a spacesuit and those feelings of running out of oxygen that plagued him. He hated those damn nightmares, trying to sleep but he was not telling Wufei that.
"Then I'll stay with you, Winner's worried about you."
"Quatre's guilty," he retorted, "I'm fine."
Wufei didn't turn, leave, but Trowa knew he was a stubborn man and that he would do whatever he damn well pleased. "You slept with him."
The words were bitten out and Trowa didn't react, no flinch at the accusation. As he assumed Wufei meant Zechs, not Quatre, who he supposed probably would but he answered with sarcasm, hiding behind the deadpan words as much as Duo did.
"Quatre?" he asked, raising the eyebrow of his exposed eye.
"Merquise," Wufei confirmed, "that's why Yuy was using that pathetic death glare on you."
Trowa shrugged, not answering and turned towards the panel that opened the door, letting it swish open and he shot a harsh look over his shoulder.
"It's none of your damn business."
He walked into the room, hoping the harsh way he'd said the words would deter Wufei but it seemed that he had no sense or at least was not at all threatened by Trowa. Though Trowa had seen Wufei train aboard the ship, lifting weights, stretching, whatever he did and he knew that Wufei's skills at hand to hand combat were probably equal to his own. More refined than Heero's and that Wufei could probably beat both Quatre and Duo to a pulp.
Wufei followed, the door swishing closed behind him and Trowa reached for his blade instinctively. Not that he would use it on a fellow Gundam pilot, only that he hated being cornered and the rooms aboard Peacemillion were small, cramped and Trowa felt too big for the space, too tall and he felt as though he was taking up too much of the room.
"I think it is… you seem… troubled?"
The word 'troubled' was drawn out and Trowa shifted, annoyed that he had been followed. Maybe Quatre would've been less irritating. At least he would've just looked at him with those big blue eyes, pity in them and it would've been less harsh than those calculating glances.
"I just got back my memory," Trowa said, almost growling.
"Not that you feel guilt for sleeping with the enemy?"
He wanted to grit his teeth and not react but Wufei stood so straight, his head raised far too high and it irritated Trowa. He'd liked Wufei at one point, found his calm persona reassuring but then this high and mighty attitude he'd had since he came aboard Peacemillion had grated. As well as his criticisms of him when he was still suffering from his amnesia. It all made Trowa's blood boil. Maybe Quatre should've come, should've followed as then he wouldn't do something damn stupid to another Gundam pilot.
"You've never made a mistake?" Trowa asked, his voice cold, level, his head raised and his eyes meeting Wufei's.
"Many," Wufei replied, his voice a sigh, "but none that involved having sex with someone who wants me dead."
The tone was so self-satisfied that Trowa's trademark calm slipped – his mask breaking and it was probably due to his shitty sleep and Heero's attitude and Quatre… and Quatre always damn looking at him that Trowa made a low noise in his throat and with the momentum of partial gravity, kicked himself off the floor and hurtled towards Wufei, his shoulder connecting with his chest and sending them both towards the closed door, Wufei's back hitting the metal with a dull thud.
Trowa let his hands shove at Wufei's shoulders then , pushing him hard against the metal, gripping his shoulders. The tank top meant he felt his skin under his fingertips as he gripped hard and Trowa flicked his hair out of his eyes to stare him down.
"You don't know."
Wufei didn't look shocked or scared. So many men over the years had died at the hands of Trowa Barton and they knew he was to be feared whether he was at the control of a mobile suit, a Gundam, holding a gun or a blade but Wufei didn't even flinch at the way he spoke, low, calm, level but anger in every syllable. No all he did was meet his eye straight on, their faces close and a small smirk crossed his face and Trowa pushed him again, hard against the metal, the anger that was coursing through his veins not entirely directed at Wufei but it was him that was suffering it. Maybe he was confused about what had happened between him and Zechs but then it had only been a one-time sex thing. Trowa could disengage from that. It didn't mean he felt anything for him just because Zechs had fucked him gently, touched him and sucked him off.
"Then why are you pushing me?"
Trowa tried to retain his composure but he couldn't. As he was pushing Wufei because of everything – because they were in the middle of a damn war, because he'd lost himself and his memories, because Heero doubted his loyalty just because he fucked someone once and because he hated the way Quatre looked at him. He hated how he felt, he hated the headaches and the damn pain, and Trowa loosened his grip, letting go of Wufei, feeling his skin leave his fingertips and he stepped away, turned to look away and ran a hand through his hair, anger at himself for all his mistakes. Too many for someone so young.
"Barton," Wufei said softly and his voice surprised him. The tone was calm, gentle, reminding him of sitting drinking coffee together at the circus and then… then he had liked Wufei. More than that – seen him as a comrade. A brother in arms. He'd respected him. Now he felt like he didn't want to look him in the damn eye. Maybe he had become weak – amnesia, fucking the wrong person in his past, the headaches, the sickness, the lack of sleep…
He looked up to Wufei and he felt a hand touch him and Trowa retreated, flinched, jerked back as he didn't want any more emotional conflict. He wanted sleep and relief. He wanted a battle to distract him from his thoughts and feelings. But he had nothing but his tiny bunk and Wufei. Trowa gritted his teeth.
"Get out, I need sleep."
Wufei didn't move and the stubbornness that he'd seen surfaced again. "You need to talk. About this. And other things. You are emotionally conflicted. It will affect your abilities in battle."
"I need to sleep, Chang."
The glare he shot Wufei this time was as harsh as anything Heero Yuy could muster but it did no damn good and he shrugged, grabbing at the hem of his turtleneck, stripping it off and throwing it away. He followed that by undoing his jeans, sliding them down his legs and standing then in nothing but his boxer briefs, daring Wufei to say something.
Wufei let out a breath, his eyes scanning Trowa's chest to where all his life-time of scars littered his body and Trowa wasn't ashamed of any of them as they were his and so little was his that his body, those wounds, were what he could claim at his own.
"Some of them are old," Wufei commented, his eyes returning to Trowa's.
"Hard life."
He nodded in response. "I'll leave. Get some sleep."
Trowa grunted, his arms folded across his chest and he watched then as Wufei pushed the panel, the door opening with a swish and he exited, Trowa seeing how he walked away so damn straight, his head held high. In a way Trowa never could.
He looked around the tiny room and sat on the edge of his bed deciding then as he had escaped the briefing, he might as well sleep and avoid everyone else until the next battle. It was a good a plan as any Trowa had ever had.
The feeling of being smothered was what woke Trowa, the feeling that he could not breathe and he sat bolt upright, clutching his throat and realised that he could in fact breathe and that it was another dream. He took a few deep calming breaths and then looked over to see in the limited light of the room, Quatre was now asleep, the sound of his breathing now clear once Trowa's own had returned to normal. He hopped out of the bed as stealthily as he could, infinitely glad that he blessed with grace despite being pretty tall and lanky, and he found a t-shirt to throw over his chest. Trowa didn't bother with anything else – Peacemillion felt constantly warm and he was still sweaty from his dream. He shook his head, not wanting to damn think about it and opened the door, leaving Quatre to sleep.
It was the middle of the night. Not that Trowa was sure what time it was – one of the problems of space and large space stations is that time became malleable and difficult to assess but even when it was night, the station was still alive, he still passed people, not surprised when a few gave him a cautious glance, his hair was probably sleep mussed and he was walking around half naked but he needed to move, not be in the same room as Quatre. He needed not to dream.
He had a vague idea of where he would go as he walked through the corridors, his bare feet feeling the cold of the metal underneath, as he wanted painkillers and water and something to eat realising he'd not eaten for some time. So he was heading towards the kitchens, walking towards it mechanically, remembering the route, his feet taking him there and as he arrived at the dining area, the metal table where all five of them had sat in the middle, he stopped as there was Wufei, a cup of steaming tea in front of him. Trowa thought about turning around as Wufei would ask – he would ask a million things and Trowa hated how those dark eyes seemed to see through him but Wufei looked up, bowed his head slightly and Trowa could do nothing but step further into the room.
"You slept?"
"Yeah," Trowa answered. "You're awake."
"Yes… I have trouble sleeping at times," Wufei said and he got to his feet. "I'll make you tea."
It wasn't an offer and Trowa didn't decline as he could smell green tea lingering on the air and it was somewhat comforting and moments later when a cup was produced, he took it from Wufei, joining him to sit and blowing across the rim of the cup before he took a sip. Trowa watched Wufei sip at his slowly and he followed suit not saying anything and Wufei didn't either. In the middle of the night inside Peacemillion there was little to say.
The moments that passed by were not awkward and Trowa felt himself feel more at ease, some of the terror of his nightmares abating and he spoke quietly.
"I do feel guilty for sleeping with the enemy."
Wufei turned towards him, arched one eyebrow. "Yes?"
"I needed… distraction," he said, grinding out the word distraction.
"We all need it."
Trowa tried not to snort but failed, looking up at Wufei. "You?"
"We all have our demons."
The words, the tone and his whole demeanour irritated Trowa, the cryptic statements that somehow made it seem that Wufei was better than him and he got to his feet, he'd go and sit next to Heavyarms, sit in the shadow of his Gundam as fuck, he needed to be away from everything, people, especially the other damn pilots and he left his tea, half drunk.
"Thanks for the tea."
"Barton."
Wufei reached for Trowa the feeling of a hand around his wrist made him snap, the anger that had bubbled under the surface reaching a fever pitch and he lashed out, this time his move was anticipated and Wufei blocked his arm. Trowa dislodged his arm from Wufei's grip and glared down at him, seeing how dark Wufei's eyes were, how his mouth was set in a grim line of determination and it took little for the next punches to be exchanged, Trowa's fighting style was learnt from men who brawled after too much alcohol and Wufei's was from years of martial arts training. So damn different. The blow across Trowa's face was hard and he felt his lip split where he bit down, the coppery tang of blood filling his mouth and he hit back just as hard, his fist in Wufei's jaw, a low grunt in answer, Wufei's head snapping to the side.
They stopped for a moment, paused, Wufei righting himself from Trowa's punch and he glared up at him, his eyes dark. Wufei lashed his arm and Trowa caught it before it connected with his face, gripping his wrist tight and feeling his cold skin. Trowa pulled Wufei close, dragging him viciously and Wufei didn't stumble, instead, his face ended up within inches of Trowa's, enough to feel his breath and Trowa's own breath sped up with the proximity of another body in too damn long. Not since Zechs Merquise had fucked him in Antarctica in his officers' quarters and refused to meet his lips.
He wanted to turn away, maybe do what Wufei suggested and fuck Quatre, maybe some rough sex would make him realise how unsuited Trowa was for him but when he jerked his hand to make Wufei release his grip and somehow their mouths collided. Somehow was Trowa's mind making a damn excuse for his hormones, the burning need to have someone pressed up against him to rid himself of the nightmares and the headaches and all the damn feelings. It was his mouth that pressed hard to Wufei's, Wufei who responded by keeping his closed for a few seconds until his lips parted and Trowa's tongue delved inside, feeling a response from Wufei's and momentarily surprised, he lost his advantage, Wufei's tongue sliding inside his open lips.
Trowa moaned as he realised Wufei was responding, his fingers suddenly in the back of his hair, pulling at him and Trowa had thought that this was a stupid hormonal idea and realised it wasn't. As Wufei was pressed against him and he smelt of tea and sweat and something else and Trowa lost some balance or maybe they both did as Trowa fell backwards, hitting the table but they didn't stop the kiss and Trowa found his hands itching to reach for Wufei's hair, grasping at his ponytail, feeling it coarser than he expected.
It was stupid, it made him feel like they were Heero and Duo, finding spaces to have quick fucks randomly aboard the ship and despite the fact he was hard, breathing in the scent of Wufei bringing with it a feeling of pleasure he couldn't have anticipated, he pulled back, a reluctant drag of lips.
"No," he murmured.
"No?"
He did that eyebrow raise thing and Trowa found whatever resolve he'd had moments before melting, crushing their lips together, a little pain from the split lip but it felt good. He pushed Wufei, pushed him hard enough that the partial grav propelled him a little and their kiss separated for a moment before they connected again, their mouths hot and hungry and open. He hadn't expected Wufei to be responsive, for his kiss to be passionate and warm and his hands to be gripping on tight, one in his hair, one at his shoulder, nails digging into his shoulder blade. Wufei's back hitting the wall stalled their movement and Trowa ground his hips into Wufei, feeling the way he pushed into him, creating much needed friction, Trowa glad he was in boxers and a baggy t-shirt rather than his jeans and turtleneck. He would be too damn hot for those right now even though he was too hot as he was dressed as Wufei slid one of those hands to cup his groin through his shorts and Trowa panted into their kiss and instinctively thrust forward into that palm.
Trowa grunted and stopped the hand, scared that he'd come in his boxer shorts, become an embarrassment and their mouths lingered for a second on each other's before separating, Trowa then giving Wufei a searching glance.
"You… have you?" Trowa asked the words awkwardly, them spilling out of his lips and Wufei nodded.
"Not with a man. I understand the mechanics. I've seen Yuy and Maxwell."
Trowa snorted as it was a damn joke or as near as the serious pilot was going to come to it. As yes, they'd all seen Heero and Duo at some point doing something damn inappropriate.
"We need something," Trowa stated and Wufei rocked into him in a way that was too damn exquisite, the alignment of hips rocking Wufei's cock on the underside of his own that sent sparks of pleasure from his dick up his spine and it was too damn much. He swore under his breath. "Unless we just…"
And his brain couldn't come up with anymore words as he slid his hand into Wufei's white pants, finding his cock, grasping it and feeling it warm in his grip. Wufei's breath hitched at Trowa's touch and his head leant down onto Wufei's shoulder, Trowa's mouth on his skin exposed by the tank top and Wufei leaned into him, his hand returning to its previous position, his fingers touching him in a way that was different to when Trowa jerked himself, gentler, more sensual and Trowa lost himself like he wanted to. Lost himself in the touch, the caress of someone else's hand and fuck, his lips were parted and his hips moved in time with Wufei's touch as he continued to stroke him, feeling the softness and the hardness and the wetness at the tip.
It wasn't sex but it was enough for Trowa to forget the pain and the headaches and the sleeplessness, the familiar feeling of arousal in his gut, the stirring of release. He smelt Wufei's hair, felt it tickle his skin, felt the warmth of his breath and Wufei's touch on his cock became firmer, faster and Trowa followed his lead, feeling Wufei begin to jerk against him, the approach of climax in his body language and Trowa used his free hand, grasping at Wufei's chin, raising his face, his lips parted in pleasure rather than set in a straight line and they kissed lazily, meeting in a soft slide contrasting with the speed of their hands, the taste of blood from their punches lingering.
Wufei rubbed his callused thumb over the head and then pumped a few times and Trowa came, the warmth of his cum spreading against Wufei's hand and the boxer shorts, and he doubled his own efforts, feeling Wufei shiver into him as he too found release, their moans caught between mouths.
The kiss ended and hands were removed from pants and Trowa leaned into Wufei, supporting himself against the metal wall for a moment as he felt the exhilaration of orgasm recede into a tiredness that made Trowa want his bunk in the room with Quatre as he could sleep and ignore Quatre's big eyes and the guilt in them.
Trowa stepped back, wiped his hand against his boxer shorts and gave Wufei a searching glance, not sure what it meant.
"Banish the demons?" Wufei asked.
"Yeah."
The answer was short, abrupt but Wufei didn't look offended, maybe a little amused, that eyebrow raised and Trowa shook his head, letting his hair get in the way of his eyes and he thought of Zechs Merquise, the man who wanted to do so much damage to them, kill them, destroy peace and what he'd said after that meaningless sex. And while Wufei was different, a comrade, a brother in arms, it didn't make it more than other mistake his fucked up life.
"Once," he murmured.
There was an answer to it as this time he'd said it louder but Trowa walked away like he did from so many things, walking down the corridor, sure he could hear the sound of Heero and Duo fucking each other like their lives depended on it from one of the rooms and he only stopped walking when he reached the room he shared with Quatre, opening the door, shucking off his soiled boxers on the floor.
Once.
Once he'd come with an enemy. Once he'd come with an ally. And Trowa could only slide into the bed and sleep in the post-orgasmic haze, sleep in a world without a war, without brain splitting pain and without stupid teenage hormones. One night where he was free until he woke up from nightmares, ready to face another day's battle.