Disclaimer: I own no part of Gundam Wing and make no monetary profit from writing.
Author's Note: Writing this story truly has been a joint effort. The original idea came from Standingontherooftops (as compensation for having broken her brain in a previous story) and she also suggested the personalities and pairings and gave huge amounts of positive feedback as it progressed. Kaeru Shisho gave me most of the plot, as well as many, many suggestions, edited many, many times, and then persuaded me it wasn't long enough so the whole process had to start again. All of this wonderful support meant that I was free to get on with the really fun business of actually writing and had massive amounts of fun.
Dedication: This story is affectionately dedicated to both the ladies mentioned above, without whom it would have been finished in half the time.
Pairings: 5x4 and (possible) 1x2. Copious references to past 3x4.
Chapter 1/13:
It was always easier when the others were there. Duo talked so much it effectively removed the need for anyone else to make conversation, and on the rare occasions when he was silent – it sometimes happened when his mouth was full – Wufei could talk about work to Heero.
They'd both called to cancel dinner earlier though; both with ridiculously unbelievable excuses. It had been happening quite a lot lately. Trowa had commented on it with a wry lift of one eyebrow that had made Wufei grin in return. Quatre, being Quatre, had just sighed and said that Une was working them both far too hard.
Not that Quatre, of all people, could talk. He was in the middle of describing the latest fundraiser being organised by the Winner Children's Foundation – a banquet to raise money to send poor children on holidays – to Trowa. Wufei had been living with the damn thing for weeks now. He'd spent countless breakfasts discussing colour schemes and flowers and fallen asleep while Quatre was talking about menus.
Of course, it was a good cause, a wonderful cause. They all were. It was wonderful that Quatre got so involved in all of them. He was always promising to delegate more, to hire an assistant, to let someone else make a decision for a change, but somehow it never happened.
He was talking about the music now – the Sanque Philharmonic had offered to play for free – and Quatre had met the conductor the previous day. Wufei didn't know anything about music. Trowa, of course, did, and was making the most of it. It was all allegros and arpeggios and appassionatas and Wufei was damn sure he didn't want Trowa Barton talking to his boyfriend about passion. And, naturally, he'd totally forgotten about his dinner.
'Quatre,' Wufei interrupted, touching the blond's arm. 'Food, remember? It's going to get cold.'
Quatre, in the middle of talking about some piece by Bach, looked over at him and smiled. 'Yes. Of course. And then the conductor suggested…'
'Quatre,' Trowa said calmly. 'Dinner.' He leaned across the table to swirl his own fork around Quatre's tagiatelle and then hovered the fork in front of Quatre's mouth. 'Open.'
'Trowa!' He was laughing and blushing a bit and oh, so totally innocent of any possible subtext going on. 'I'm not a baby!'
'Then don't act like one,' Trowa scolded. 'Come on now, be a good boy. The Gundam wants to fly into the tunnel.'
'You are utterly ridiculous,' Quatre opened his mouth, nevertheless, and then took his time licking the cream sauce off the fork. Damn. Wufei crossed his legs, very deliberately, and then caught Trowa watching him.
'Oh, this is delicious.' Quatre took a second forkful under his own steam, and another.
'See?' Trowa was grinning, infuriating. 'You just need to know how to handle him. He likes being hand-fed, don't you, Quat?'
'I'm perfectly capable of eating my own food, thank you very much.'
Wufei bit back any number of retorts, all along the lines of how he was perfectly capable of handling his own partner,
'I wonder, sometimes.' Trowa leaned back in his chair, fingers toying the stem of his wine glass, and it took a second for Wufei to realise he was answering Quatre's comment. 'You're way too skinny.' He was giving Quatre a long look; objective, appraising. ''Fei, you need to feed him up a bit more.'
'Wufei takes very good care of me, actually,' Quatre said calmly.
'Yeah, I'll bet he does.' He had that obnoxious, knowing grin on his face again, the one Wufei generally wanted to smack off. Generally. 'So, Wufei, what's new with you? You get that paper finished you were working on?'
Damn, he always did that. Always. He would drive Wufei to the point of considering physical violence, and then suddenly turn around and try to be his friend again. It wasn't fair.
'I did, yes,' Wufei said, rather coolly. For all Trowa's casual assumption of friendship, they weren't friends. There was some shared history, that was all. They'd been through a war together, more or less on the same side. Mostly. And then there'd been that night at the travelling circus. None of that made them friends.
'It was nothing.' Trowa shrugged carelessly. 'Glad I could help out. Uh oh, he's going.' Before Wufei could react, he had one long arm stretched out to grab Quatre, just before he fell face down in his pasta. It had happened at their last dinner too. Duo had made a joke of it, laughing at Quatre asleep on his plate with Caesar salad all over his face and dressing in his hair, saying they could sell him to a gallery as an installation.
Trowa hadn't laughed.
'I've got him.' Trowa had the blond cradled across his chest. 'Shit. How often does he do this?'
'Sometimes,' Wufei said helplessly. It was happening more and more often these days; usually at home, when he'd tell Wufei he'd come to bed in just five minutes, after he'd read just one more report, or replied to just one more message. Wufei would give him half an hour and then go down to find him fast asleep at his desk. 'You know what he's like. He thinks he has to do everything, and then he drives himself too hard, and then he's too tired to eat or sleep properly.'
'I can imagine.' One of Trowa's hands was smoothing over the blond hair. 'He was always like that. He's not going to change now; you're the one who's going to have to shovel food into him, and make him sleep.'
Wufei sniffed. 'I try! He's the most stubborn person I've ever met, and he's determined to solve every problem in the world by himself, and you know about his insomnia. If I do get him to go to bed early, half the time he can't sleep anyway and he gets up to do some more work. What am I supposed to do? Drag him upstairs and tie him to the bed?'
'Well, yeah.' Trowa sounded like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 'For fuck's sake, he weighs half-nothing, just throw him over your shoulder and dump him on the mattress.' He gave Wufei a sharp glance. 'Come on, you've seriously never done anything like that?'
'Certainly not!' Wufei blurted and then regretted it. He'd never intended to discuss even the most peripheral part of his sex life with Trowa Barton.
'Man, talk about all the wasted opportunities. Let me give you a tip, Chang. He's not some porcelain ornament, and he damn well won't break if you stop treating him like one. The next time he's being all stubborn, just try yanking his pants down and bending him over that desk of his.' He winked. 'It looks like it's pretty damn sturdy. And I can promise you he'll sleep like a baby, after.'
'It's none of your business,' Wufei hissed, mortified, furious, impossibly aroused by the image. Even more so by the idea of Trowa being there in the fantasy, watching.
'It is,' Trowa argued.
He still had Quatre cradled carefully in his arms, long fingers curled in the bright hair; Wufei had a sudden, insane urge to snatch his boyfriend back but that would be wholly undignified, like a tug-of-war. Ridiculous. And then Quat would wake up and be upset.
'No, it isn't,' Wufei said breathlessly. They'd never, quite, had this conversation before, although they'd come close, once or twice, mostly at a much higher level of volume. 'You left him. Remember?'
'And you didn't waste any time moving in on him, did you?' Trowa snapped.
'Oh. Was there some sort of statute of limitations on him?' Wufei asked coolly. He was starting to enjoy this. Trowa didn't lose his famous calm very often; it was fun to see all that objectivity and detachment evaporate with the flare of his temper. 'I hadn't realised. Nor had he, apparently. As far as he was concerned, you just walked out on him. After all, it wasn't as if he jumped straight out of your bed into mine. You had plenty of time to try to get him back.'
Trowa's eyes sparked. 'It didn't exactly take him long to get over me.'
'Oh, he was supposed to sit around moping until you got your act together, and decided you actually wanted to be with him, was he?'
'He was supposed to…' Trowa's low, furious tone died abruptly as Quatre started to stir in his arms. 'Hey, Sleeping Beauty. We were boring you that much?'
'Of course not.' Flushing a little, Quatre slid back to his own seat. 'I'm so sorry. What were you two talking about?'
'My essay,' Wufei said quickly.
'Oh, yes.' Quatre beamed at his boyfriend fondly. 'You've read it, Trowa, haven't you? It's brilliant. He should be writing books, not working at Preventers. And it was so kind of you to get him those scanned copies of the manuscripts from the Smithsonian.'
Trowa shrugged. 'No biggie. I'd installed their latest security system; they said I could ask if I needed a favour.'
'It's so useful, knowing you,' Quatre sparkled at him. He tasted a forkful of his pasta and made a face. 'Oh, this is cold. Never mind. Are you two having dessert?'
Wufei and Trowa ordered lemon tea and espresso respectively; Quatre charmed their smitten waiter into bringing him something that wasn't on the menu; a ridiculous towering concoction of meringue and cream and chocolate mousse and cherries, with a little jug of butterscotch sauce on the side.
'As a matter of interest,' Trowa teased, 'are you planning to eat that or bathe in it?'
'Eat it, of course!' Quatre paused with a towering spoonful of whipped cream at his lips. 'I'd love to swim in something like this, though! That would be so much fun, wouldn't it? A whole bath full of cream and chocolate!'
Dear Gods. It would sound ludicrously filthy from anyone else, Wufei reflected. Quatre was just hopelessly naive about pretty much everything; well, everything that didn't take place in a boardroom or involve some form of high finance.
'Well, I'm sure you could arrange something. A little treat for Wufei's birthday perhaps?'
'Now, you're being silly.' Quatre dreamily licked his spoon clean. 'He doesn't have a sweet tooth. He wouldn't like it at all.'
'He's just joking,' Wufei said hastily, thanking his ancestors and the universe for all those years spent in meditation and acts of self-discipline. 'Trowa, how are you getting on with your new offices? Are they finished yet?'
Trowa flicked him a knowing glance, knowing exactly what the subject-change was about, but then obligingly launched into a description of his new premises. He'd had a small office in Sanque for the last year or so, but now he'd decided to move back to Earth, he needed to expand.
Quatre just sat back and let them talk, smiling faintly, as Trowa asked for advice on software packages and Wufei told him about the latest models Preventers were using, and otherwise devoted himself to his ridiculous dessert, abandoning his spoon after a few mouthfuls of ice-cream and fishing cherries out with his fingers and then excusing himself to wash his hands.
They both watched his progress through the restaurant; waiters bowing and scraping, other diners turning their heads as he passed, either because they recognised him, or because he was very much worth looking at.
'He really doesn't have a clue, does he?' Trowa asked.
'A clue to what?'
Trowa's eyes were intent on Quatre's back view. 'The effect he has on people. Just as well, probably, or he'd have taken over the universe by now.'
Wufei grinned. 'Well, the parts of it he doesn't already own.' He thought Quatre did have a clue, actually. He certainly wielded his charm like a weapon when necessary, shielding his natural shyness under exquisitely polished manners.
'Yeah,' Trowa acknowledged, smiling back. 'Good point. Still, you think he'd have some idea what he looks like.'
'He's never much liked how he looks,' Wufei gaped at him; surely Trowa, of all people would know that. 'It was just another thing that made him different, growing up on L4, and being so fair. He used to get bullied at school all the time.'
He'd been teased for his appearance at school, and it hadn't helped that most of his schoolmates had come from families who'd hoped to marry a daughter or sister off to his father. They'd been furious when Mr. Winner had instead chosen a girl from outside his culture, his faith; even more so when she'd given birth to a son who would inherit everything.
'Bastards,' Trowa hissed. 'I never knew that. I always thought he was just shy.'
'Well, now you know,' Wufei said quietly. Saying it hadn't been breaking any confidences; Quatre had said as much during a couple of interviews, talking about diversity and differences. Wufei wasn't going to talk about the other reason; that he'd reminded his father too painfully of the girl who'd died giving birth to him.
Trowa hesitated. 'He never really talked about growing up much, or his family. They'd pretty much disowned him when he ran off to be a pilot. It used to upset him, talking about them.'
Wufei nodded. It was a true enough reason, probably, but he couldn't imagine the fifteen-year-old Quatre telling the supremely confident Trowa, with his exotic background of mercenaries and circuses, that he'd been teased in the school playground.
It had been something else Wufei had had in common with him; another shy, scholarly little boy who hadn't been happy at home, and who hadn't fit in at school. They'd both grown up largely solitary, hiding in books or music, and pretending not to care about being alone; that they'd chosen it. Both terrified of anyone finding out that they might be gay.
'He…wasn't very happy as a kid, was he?' Trowa asked haltingly.
'No. His sisters were mostly years older and weren't around very much, and his father was always at work. He didn't really have any friends.'
This was … a very odd conversation, on various levels. They were actually discussing Quatre without Wufei being in some way confrontational, or Trowa getting defensive. They weren't shouting. And it was bizarre that Trowa hadn't really known any of this; had never asked Quat.
He'd just finished that thought when Quatre arrived back, amidst a flutter of waiters who pulled out his chair and settled his napkin and suggested tea or coffee or liqueurs.
'So,' he said brightly, reaching over to filch a chocolate mint from Trowa's plate, 'are you still talking about software packages or have you moved on to something more exciting?'
'Absolutely,' Trowa grinned over at him. 'We were talking about you.'
'Well, that's not very interesting either.'
'It was, moderately.' Wufei reached under the table to squeeze his hand. 'Just not as fascinating as the latest accounting systems.'
Quatre made a face. 'I'm not that boring. I hope not, anyway.'
'You have your moments,' Wufei teased. 'And not everyone can be a mathematical genius like you. Some people actually need computers because they can't do quadratic equations in their heads.'
'Poor mortals,' Quatre shot back loftily. 'Every accounting system I've ever tried has some sort of glitch somewhere.'
'So we should all go back to using the abacus?' Wufei demanded.
'Actually, yes. You're just jealous that the Chinese didn't invent it first.'
'Oh, no.' Wufei groaned. 'We are not having this conversation again.' He reached for his espresso cup and caught the expression on Trowa's face. He was smiling at Quat's nonsense, but looking oddly surprised as well at the teasing.
'I can't help that my ancestors came from an incredibly advanced civilisation,' Quatre said smugly. 'Tro, do you want your other chocolate or may I have it, please? Oh, thank you. 'Fei, do you know it's almost eleven? We should probably go. They'll want to clean up the tables and things.'
'I'll call Rashid to bring the car 'round.' Wufei took out his phone. 'Trowa, do you want a lift to your hotel?'
'I'll walk,' Trowa decided. 'Thanks, though.'
There was the usual argument over who was going to pay; Quatre won, naturally, smiling winsomely at the maitre d' and tipping lavishly, and then they were all outside waiting for Rashid. Quat got a hug from Trowa, emerging pink-cheeked and laughing. Wufei got an eyebrow raised in invitation, and then Trowa's hand to shake.
'That was such a lovely evening,' Quatre said happily, snuggling up to Wufei in the car. 'It was a shame Heero and Duo were busy, though. Still, we'll get to see Trowa all the time, now that he's going to be living in Sanque. Have you thought, it's the first time we'll all be living in the same place?'
Wufei muttered something vague. He wasn't sure if it was nice or not. He could deal with his boyfriend's ex in short, well-spaced-out visits, once there were other people around to dilute him. Having him around permanently would be a different thing.
It was true; it would be the first time for them all to live in the same city. After the war, they'd all dispersed. Wufei and Trowa had joined Preventers before the ink was dry on various pardons and peace treaties. Trowa had spent nearly a year taking missions that no one else would touch, and that generally didn't appear on any kind of official records, before having an almighty row with Une and storming off. Then he'd spent a few months (according to Duo) screwing his way around space, and then he'd got his act together and started a phenomenally successful security company.
Wufei had stayed in Preventers, stayed in Sanque, and eventually the others had all gravitated back. Quatre first, after they'd been dating long-distance for a year. Then Duo had decided that he was tired of knocking around with the Sweepers and come back to Sanque, and a few months afterwards Heero had resigned from Relena's security and taken a job with Preventers.
And now Trowa was back too.
It was fine. They could get along now, more or less. They could conduct themselves like civilised adults over the space of a meal. In itself, that was an improvement on the long period of open hostilities when they hadn't been able to be in the same room together. Then there'd been peace talks, brokered by Quatre and Duo, leading to the armed neutrality phase, and in the last year or so they'd both mellowed a little bit to the point where they could have a pleasant enough conversation.
'I suppose. I'm just glad I've finally got you all to myself,' he said softly, tugging Quatre closer.
'Mmm. You don't mind Trowa being here, do you? You seemed to be getting on quite well tonight.'
'I'm trying.' Wufei vaguely wondered what life would be like if Quatre had ever been able to read his emotions. He doubted that Quatre would want Trowa to be such a part of their lives if he could.
'Thank you.' Quatre agreed, resting his head on Wufei's shoulder. He kept it there all the way home, only moving when Rashid smoothly pulled to a halt.
'Asleep, love?' Wufei asked softly.
'Not really.' He sounded drowsy though, yawning and then letting himself be helped out of the car. 'Ooh, it's cold.'
'You're only cold because you're tired,' Wufei told him, walking briskly up the steps and opening the front door. 'You'll be fine inside. I can warm you up if you like.'
'That sounds fun.' He reached up to kiss Wufei's cheek. 'Just give me five minutes. I need to check if I got that email from Japan. I'll be quick. I promise.'
By the time Wufei was showered had changed, there was still no sign of his boyfriend. Naturally.
He was fast asleep in his chair when Wufei went downstairs, head resting on his desk. Twice in one night. It wasn't a joke anymore. They'd have to stop this. Wufei turned out the study lights, and switched off Quatre's laptop and straightened a few files on the desk, and thought about what Trowa had said.
Just bend him over the desk.
Of course, he would never do such a thing, and Quatre wouldn't want him to. They had a perfectly good – far better than good – sex life, but it took place in their bedroom. And the garden, once, but the gardener had almost caught them, and they'd made an unspoken, mutual decision not to try anything like that again.
Their relationship was based on equality and sharing and mutual respect and treating Quatre like that, like a whore, would be against every one of those principles. He wouldn't like it anyway. He liked romance; scented candles, and flower petals on the bed, and soft classical music, and foreplay that went on for hours.
Just bend him over the desk.
Oh, Gods. He could imagine that. Quatre's trousers falling to his feet, a dark puddle of fabric with the bright silken shorts he liked blooming on top, colourful as flower petals, and all that pale skin, draped over the glowing red oak of his desk.
No.
He lifted Quatre, gently as the precious piece of porcelain Trowa claimed he wasn't, and took him upstairs. Once he fell asleep, properly asleep like this, it was better not to wake him, so Wufei undressed him, and slid them both into bed.
'I love you.' Wufei kissed him, soft as the brush of a moth's wing, on each eyelid, then on the mouth, and then on the little, circular scar on his stomach. His nightly ritual, whether Quatre was awake or not.
They'd first kissed five years ago, in that hospital, a few days after the last battle, after Quatre had almost come so close to death. Quatre had rated his own private room, not out of some sort of respect or gratitude for what he'd done, but because he was a Gundam Pilot, and considered dangerous. All the other wards were crammed, with makeshift beds lining the corridors, the reception area. Quatre's room was probably the only quiet place in the hospital.
Wufei had found him alone, for once, and looking impossibly young and lost, and sobbing brokenly that Trowa had left. The first, clumsy kiss, days later, had tasted of tears, but Quatre had managed a smile, after.
Of course, Trowa wasn't going to hurt him again. He wasn't going to get the chance. Quatre had moved on, and that was that. They probably wouldn't even be seeing him that often. They all had busy lives, and it never took Trowa long to find someone new.
