Disclaimer: It probably goes without saying that, no, I do not own Gundam Wing. I only own the words I have written here.
As well, the image used for this story is in no way my own.
Warnings: AU. Rated for adult language, eventual violence, & eventual m/m sex. (At the moment this is rated T; I am predicting that it will go up to M eventually).
A/N: This is a side/pet project that has been milling about my thoughts a lot lately. It will not be interfering with updates to Maxwell or Bite Me, but is my first try at an AU style story. Loosely inspired by the movie Runner, Runner (go look it up if you're so inclined.) This will eventually involve some more explicit sexual scenes (that's something new for me as well) and I do appreciate any and all feedback as long as it is constructive.
Updates will come when they come, no promises on this one. So without further ado...Enjoy.
Offsuit - (adjective) - Of different [card] suits; as opposed to 'suited.'
Offsuit
Chapter 1: Ante Up
To say that he was a gambler was an understatement. But isn't it true to say that everyone in this world is a gambler in some form or another?
Trowa Barton thought about the fifteen hundred dollars burning a hole in the pocket of his overpriced grey straight-leg slacks as he walked down a dimly lit street along a row of brownstones rented to irresponsible college students with the promise of trust-funds along with the proverbial silver spoon in their mouths. It often aggravated him to think that he himself resided in one of these exorbitant residences wearing name brand clothing he shouldn't be able to afford, but such was the life of the roommate of Quatre Winner.
The young blond was Waspy and came from old money yet somehow still managed to be one of the most down-to-earth people Trowa had ever known. Hence why he and the Statistics major were roommates, though the rent being paid upfront by his father didn't hurt either.
But, even with the added nicety of rent-free living, the weekly poker games Trowa attended off-campus didn't hurt with the inordinately large amount of tuition fees he owed to Sanq University. Fifteen hundred bucks in one night was nothing to sniff at, though it wasn't the biggest payout he had ever experienced, and the fact that he'd been able to take it off of some more experienced players, he was quite happy with the proceedings.
His bourbon toned Oxfords clipped as Trowa took each step upwards towards the brownstone's front door. He certainly dressed and looked the part of an overindulged scholar, and maybe that was due to the money he earned from gambling and maybe it came from the fact that he was overcompensating for the material things he couldn't afford when he was younger, but either way money had become somewhat of a necessity with him.
Just like gambling, the lifestyle seemed to become addictive quite easily. He studied alongside spoiled and money hungry socialites, trying to edge their way up in the world of finance by pawing at their father's billfold and calling in favors from their stepford mothers. He had to keep up, despite his desire to mock and ridicule, he still had to at least pretend to play the game. But still, no matter how much gambling, online or otherwise, he still found himself drowning when tuition was due.
When he opened the stain-glass plated front door, Trowa found Quatre sitting atop the leather couch resting in the center of their sparse living room, his laptop balancing on one pajama clad knee, a large textbook on the other, and a half empty glass of red wine in his right hand. The budding statistician looked up from his intensive studies with a tired smile.
"You're up late," Trowa observed, hanging up the leather jacket he'd been wearing in the small hallway coat closet. It was nearly two in the morning by now.
Quatre shrugged. "I've got a midterm next week, so I figured I'd get a head start. No time like the present, eh?"
Quatre was not known to be one of the extremely social silver-spoon brats that frequented the University. This was part of what made him so down-to-earth, but also made Trowa wonder if he'd never been taught how to have fun. Always trying to impress his perpetually unimpressed father.
Trowa often thought that his friend might just need a push in the right direction. He pulled the wad of bills from his pocket and tossed them on the walnut coffee table in front of Quatre. "Wanna take a break?"
Quatre stared up at the taller man and took a long, thoughtful sip of his drink. Trowa knew what the answer would be, his roommate generally frowned upon his compulsion to gamble, but usually turned a blind eye as long as Trowa was smart about it. And usually Trowa was smart about it, but after the adrenaline high he had experienced less than an hour ago at being able to bluff and bait a group of much older and more experienced players, he was feeling particularly impulsive.
"You know how I feel about Meteor, Trowa." That was the response he knew Quatre would give. Not denying nor agreeing to anything, simply sending the ball back into Trowa's court.
He spoke, of course, in regards to Meteor Gaming, an online gambling site that had become popular both in the space colonies and on Earth, despite the fact that it was knowingly based out of the L2 Colony Cluster, an unruly district not affiliated with the Earth Sphere Unified Nation. But that's why it was so popular, wasn't it? People craved the taboo, the forbidden, and the illegal. And if they could kill two birds with one stone and get their fix of thrill through gambling on Meteor? Well, let's just say it was a very lucrative business.
Trowa quirked an eyebrow. "It's my money. What's wrong with having a bit of fun now and then, Winner?" He lowered his voice, bringing out that husky tone that always seemed to get him his way, not only with his friend, but with anyone he wanted something from. He was quite charismatic in an enigmatic, unfair sort of way.
Shaking his head, Quatre snorted at that, but Trowa knew he had already won. The blond drained the rest of his wine. "It may be your money, but it'll be my card number." Yet he was already changing gears, closing his text book and clicking a few keys on his laptop to bring up a site that he only visited when Trowa brought home a large sum of cash and used that voice on him.
Trowa just sat down next to him and nudged the bills closer with a pointed look. Quatre smiled wryly and continued to type, entering in an encrypted passcode for Meteor Gaming. Though Trowa often enjoyed the thrill of online gaming, Quatre knew he'd been declined by countless credit card companies over the last several years and that's why, every so often, he bribed his roommate into fulfilling his desires. The blond man never seemed to lack throwaway money (probably like most of the players on Meteor) but what those other players didn't have was Trowa's skill.
"Three-tabling," Trowa instructed. He watched as the screen on Quatre's computer flashed to several frames of green, pixelated felt.
Quatre gave him a sidelong glance and Trowa shrugged. "You can't win unless you're willing to risk it all."
There was a sigh as if the blond man disapproved of the notion and Trowa's obvious impassivity towards throwing all his hard earned winnings back into the revolving pot of reckless gambling. However, he continued with the transaction of sorts and then both their mind's were immediately calculating odds and working strategies staring at the quick paced games with faceless opponents wasting away their morning in the same, addictive manner.
Within ten minutes Trowa, or Quatre rather, was up two hundred bucks and the adrenaline was kicking in again.
"I don't know how you can find entertainment in this," Quatre stated pouring the last of the wine into a glass and handing it to his roommate. He took a sip of his own glass watching the screen as Trowa raised. He had a pair of aces he was optimistically sure of.
Trowa's green eyes gleamed over the rim of the wine glass as he let the pungent liquid trickle across his tongue. He swallowed and smirked. "It's a game of strategy. You like chess don't you?"
"Yes, but in chess you can see your opponents hand."
"But isn't not knowing more exciting?"
Quatre rolled his eyes, smiling blandly at the comment. Trowa was one to bluff his way out of anything, not limited to the gambling he was so accustomed to. He'd even managed to bluff his way right into a friendship with Quatre. And strictly friends they would stay as the blond had quickly come to find out upon their initial meeting in the dorms their freshmen year. He still wasn't quite sure of his roommate, even now after all this time.
Trowa pointed towards the screen. "Here's a weak player. His starting bets and winning patterns indicate it clearly. Now do you understand the strategy I apply?"
Quatre snorted. "Finding chumps who don't know their way around a deck of cards?"
Ignoring the comment Trowa decided to pounce on the unsuspecting victim. He played a few hands and continued on with the same table, figuring his luck might have to run out sometime, but with the way his winnings kept going skywards, he wasn't going to risk stopping now.
Meanwhile Quatre had grown somewhat bored and was thumbing through his textbook, sipping meagerly at this drink, when a frustrated sigh from behind the laptop alerted him back towards the game he would never quite have an affinity, or desire, for.
Trowa squinted. "How the hell-?" he asked the computer vaguely through clenched teeth.
Quatre moved to glance at the tables over Trowa's shoulder. "What's going on?" His voice was a mere whisper of concern.
Trowa ignored him, hoping it was a fluke, and kept going. He studied his next cards. He called.
"Sonofabitch-how did you know to bet at that?" he growled at the screen. How on the earth had his opponent known that seven high was good? It couldn't have been luck, not twice, not if you were a real poker player. No, if you're a real poker player there is no such thing as luck.
Trowa ran an uneasy hand through his long bangs nervously. He didn't get nervous, but that was the exact emotion running through his body right now. It only took ten minutes to bring his winnings back down to a number not even suitable for an initial buy-in.
"Trowa." His name sounded almost foreign as it poured powerfully out of Quatre's lips, tinged with frustration and unease.
His eyes flicked over his shoulder. "I'm good for it, you know that." He was never one to ask for money, the only thing he took from Quatre was his father's generous downpayment on their rent and maybe a bit of the man's innocence when they were drunk on a handful of occasions.
And Quatre knew he was good for it, this wasn't the first time he found himself in a position of debt to his roommate. But what Trowa needed was someone to stop him from wasting his money on a game that clearly had become unforgiving at this point.
Quatre knew he would never listen, but he had to try. "You need to end this, Trowa," he said, his voice as low as possible in hopes of incurring as much authority as possible. "It was fun for a while and now you'll just be throwing your savings away."
Trowa looked at him, damn near studied him for a brief and silent moment before answering. "To be honest with you, Quatre, I don't think my savings are doing me much good sitting in my bank account. At this point I still can't afford tuition and it's due next week."
There was another silence and this time Quatre was the one doing the studying. He watched as the embarrassment that had sparked in Trowa's eyes at the admittance slowly drained back out and again they were cold and almost lifeless like usual. "Trowa, if you need help-"
Trowa held up a firm hand. He didn't even need words to accompany the gesture as Quatre had heard them a thousand times before when he'd offered his assistance. The petite man sighed, collected the now two empty wine glasses that were resting on the coffee table and walked towards the kitchen, not bothering to give his permission, but knowing Trowa didn't need it at this point anyways. If he wanted to try out his twisted form of strategy and waste all of his money in one go, then so be it.
Trowa awoke to a small headache at the base of his skull, probably from lack of sleep and the fact that he'd been staring at a glowing computer screen for most of the early morning.
He was still on the couch, still in his clothes from last night, now much more wrinkled than before, and he almost felt embarrassed for not having made it to his own bed. It wasn't as if he'd been out partying or whatever might cause someone to pass out in their living room.
And then he remembered what had caused him to disregard any logical thinking several hours before. No wonder he hadn't made it to his bed, he'd lost his entire net worth to some scumbag hustler on Meteor last night and he would be damned if he let himself actually enjoy a good night's sleep after such a royally stupid fuck up.
Slowly he sat up and arched his back until he felt the vertebrae pop. He stood and simultaneously stretched the taught muscles in his arms and legs; maybe sleeping on the couch had been a worse idea than he'd thought.
Trowa made his way to the brownstone's small kitchen, rubbing his eyes until he saw spots flash across the dark side of his lids. When he opened them again he found Quatre sitting at the bistro style table set up against the wall opposite their stainless steel refrigerator. He was staring intently at the laptop he'd begrudgingly lent Trowa last night and did not even flinch when his roommate entered his potential line of sight.
With a slight grimace Trowa found a plain, white mug from within a double-shelved cabinet and set to pouring himself a cup of steaming black coffee. He figured Quatre would be mad, or maybe annoyed was a better way to put it, considering their conversation earlier that morning, but he'd hoped that the usually forgiving man wouldn't hold the grudge for too long. He was beginning to consider that he might be wrong about that now.
Trowa didn't bother with breakfast, just slinked towards the table and sat down quietly across from his blond counterpart, staring mindlessly into the dark brown beverage he was getting ready to consume.
"You were fucking cheated."
The words, particularly the crass curse word, seemed completely foreign to Trowa's ears as Quatre spoke, still not looking up from his computer screen. The taller man frowned, his brows pulling together in confusion as he glanced up at his roommate's squinting aqua blue eyes, the only part of the man not obscured by the technology separating them.
"Quatre?" he asked hesitantly, not really sure how to respond to the sudden outburst.
Finally the petite man looked up, silent for a moment as he registered the bemused look on Trowa's face. He smiled and then just as suddenly frowned, turning the computer sideways so that they could both view what he had been so fixated on.
"Look how far outside the normal win rates the players who beat you are," Quatre said. Trowa looked at the screen to see a bunch of black boxes with bright green text and numbers crawling across them. It took him a moment to realize that his roommate had hacked into Meteor's system to look at the games from last night. His games, the damn games he'd lost all of his savings in.
Trowa took a deep breath. "I was cheated." He repeated the statement, for some reason feeling the need to reconfirm what Quatre had already said a moment before. Maybe if he said it out loud it wouldn't sound so foreign to him.
The statistician eyed him carefully; he could see the wheels turning in his usually stoic roommate's head. "Trowa?"
Fists clenching, Trowa's lips pursed as he felt the anger and disbelief he'd felt when he'd watched all of his money get taken right out from under him flow back into his tensed muscles. He wasn't one to outwardly display emotions, but in this moment he was clearly fucking pissed.
"I'm going to L2."
Quatre screwed up his brows, staring at his roommate with cautious incredulity. "You can't be serious, Trowa."
Trowa gave him a look that proved just how serious he was. "I've got to do something."
Shaking his head, Quatre could feel the anxiety welling up inside of him as he spoke. "You're just going to hop on a shuttle to an L2 Colony that isn't even remotely regulated by the ESUN? You have no money, they have no civil law out there, do you know how crazy that sounds?"
"You said it yourself, I have no money, so I'm not sure things can get much worse at this point," Trowa responded, pulling the laptop around to get a better look.
The blond frowned. "You're still alive, aren't you?"
Trowa rolled his eyes. "I'm not going there to be a threat, I'm going there to have a professional conversation in regards to Meteor's base of operations."
"Just because you're not a threat doesn't mean you can't still get killed," Quatre shot back, rolling his own eyes but for other reasons. Who knew that his roommate could be quite so stubborn. "You're really going to do this, aren't you?"
"I don't really have many other options." Trowa was now somewhat ignoring the man across from him, his slim fingers typing against the laptop's keys with determination.
Quatre hesitated, wanting to offer his help again, but then remembering just how poorly that had gone every other time he mentioned it. "How do you even know where to go? Who to speak to?"
There were a few more staccato types of the keyboard before Trowa responded, murmuring low under his breath as if he'd all but forgotten Quatre's presence. "Treize Kushrenanda." There was another pause and he finally looked up to meet pleading blue eyes. "L2-V08744. Wasn't hard to find. And thanks to you I've got all the numerical evidence right here."
Quatre immediately began to regret even looking into it. "I didn't hack into Meteor, a very illegal thing to do I might add, just so you could go gallivanting off to L2 and beg for you money back."
Trowa looked almost taken aback by the severity of his roommate's words, but his decision had already been made. "Quatre, you know I don't like asking for your assistance when it comes to money-"
Quatre closed his eyes and huffed a sigh of defeated annoyance. "How much?"
"Just enough to get me out there," Trowa said softly, realizing sourly that in actuality he'd been asking a lot more than he ever had of Quatre within just the last twelve hours.
Quatre nodded his consent, placing his hands atop the table top and intertwining his fingers, leaning towards his roommate. "Catherine is still paying off loans, why can't you do the same?" It was one last ditch effort to stave off the inevitable trip to L2.
Trowa felt his stomach tighten. Sure, his older sister had her share of school debts, but he knew that was not the only debt she harbored. Cathy had been the one to introduce him to the enticing world of online gambling.
"I'm not sure I'd even be granted a loan at this point," he muttered, shaking his head. His green eyes glowed the next time they made contact with the blond. "Don't worry about me. This isn't the first time I've had to argue for my money."
Quatre knew that to be true and he also knew that out of anyone, Trowa Barton could take care of himself. But L2 seemed so unpredictable with what he'd read about it in tabloids and investigative articles.
"Just promise me you won't do anything stupid," Quatre said softly, his fingers coming up to rest atop the laptop's screen and push it downwards in hopes of gathering Trowa's fullest attention.
The other man gazed towards him through a familiar curtain of golden bangs, a hint of something, maybe affection or else amusement in his viridescent orbs.
His lips pursed into something akin to a smile. "I promise."
To be continued...in Chapter 2: Starry Eyed...
A/N: Let me know your thoughts, your predictions, your comments. Thank you for taking the time to leave a review.