A/N This started life as a random idea which I managed to constrain to short fic form. It is a one-shot, it wants to be a series but I'm already trying to write 5 different things I don't want to add more to my todo list. Having said that it's persistent so it may get more chapters despite my best efforts.
I'm sure it'll come as a no surprise to learn I don't own gundam wing, unless owning a copy of the series counts.... no didn't think so.
This is set about 15 years after EW.
Trowa rolled his shoulders as he walked back to his trailer, working them to remove the stiffness. Years of intensive acrobatics, fighting and mobile suit piloting had taken a toll despite his excellent shape and relatively young age. All he wanted now was a really hot shower and a good nights sleep. He paused at the door of the darkened trailer his hand outstretched, reaching for the door, the position was slightly off and faint marks of footprints suggested someone had been here. He reached round to the small of his back pulling out his gun, it was probably one of the other circus people but years of wariness demanded caution. The figure in the middle of the bed sat up, immediately alert holding a pointed gun, as he opened the door, Quatre. Some reactions all five pilots would always have. Quatre lowered his gun quickly and smiled wearily at him lifting himself heavily off the bed as he walked over. Trowa frowned, Quatre had been busy with meetings and negotiations all month. They were supposed to meet until this weekend when they could snatch a few precious hours from Quatre's busy schedule. Trowa's eyes travelled over his partner expertly, taking in the crumpled suit that probably cost more than Trowa would make in a year and the blonde hair that stood in all directions.
He flicked on the light revealing paler than normal skin and red eyes "Quatre? What's wrong?" his voice remaining calm even as the rest of him tensed instinctively searching for the threat.
Quatre shook his head silently reaching for Trowa, fingers curling round the bright fabric of his costume and head leaning forward against his chest. "Trowa," he breathed sounding fifteen again and amazed to find a new friend.
Quatre pulled away slightly reaching up to run one hand across Trowa cheek, Trowa could feel his muscles tensing in alarm at Quatre's obvious distress. "Not yet, In the morning, tonight can we just be together."
Trowa's stomach tightened in anxiety, a thousand possibilities turning in his mind. If there was any physical threat then Quatre would have dealt with it with his usual efficiency, but something was wrong. Trowa took a deep breath, and dismissed his questions. He pulled Quatre in and kissed him deeply brushing a hand through golden strands of hair, giving him whatever he needed.
The kiss turned hard and desperate, Quatre gripping Trowa tighter, pulling and ripping at clothes. Trowa caught one hand, drawing back gently murmuring to his lover "Anything, anything you need."
There was an indistinct half sob before Quatre twisted pushing Trowa backwards, hands still running possessively across naked skin. They stopped as the back of Trowa's legs hit the bed, Quatre shoved him, hard, leaving him lying breathless on his back staring up at his partner before he reached out a hand to pull Quatre down on top of him.
Trowa was woken by the sunlight in his eyes and the ache in his back, the weight across his chest confusing him at first. Quatre lay splayed across him one arm wrapped possessively around his hips, head resting on one shoulder, crazy broken patches of light from the windows cast strange pictures across his lover's back. Trowa groaned quietly as he shifted, he never did get that shower never mind much sleep last night. After the first desperate claiming, Quatre had turned tender and then wicked into the early hours of the morning showing a stamina and lust that they hadn't seen in years. Trowa ran a hand gently across Quatre's shoulder blade, sighing as he noted the time on the clock. Cathy was due over at 9.00, clothes lay discarded in every direction and the pungent odour in the room told it's own story. Trowa reached over to the communicator leaving the vid screen blank as he called his sister to tell her Quatre was here and he'd find her later.
He pressed the button to end the call and turned to see Quatre watching him a sad half smile on his face. Trowa shuffled up the bed so he could sit up against the wall while watching Quatre who now perched at the end of the bed. "I'm sorry Trowa." He started eyes flicking guilty to the bruises left on Trowa from the night before "I must have worried you just turning up like that."
"What's going on Quatre?" Trowa asked reaching out one hand to cover Quatre's where it gripped the sheets.
"Politics," Quatre said with a wry smile "You know of course about the moves to cut Preventor funding and some of the unrest and manoeuvring about control of the world government."
Trowa nodded slowly wondering where Quatre was going, he could see Quatre's fists clench in frustration "Nothing is wrong as such, no enemy to fight against, just speculation and disquiet. Between us Relena and I have everything pretty much under control, it's just this isn't going to go away we're talking about decades of rebuilding trust and changing attitudes. The cabinet thinks, well the cabinet needs figure heads, strong figure heads. Like Relena, like me. Figure heads with legitimate heirs to give continuity."
He nodded in understanding, it made sense there had been talk of marrying Relena off for years and the Winner foundation needed stronger political influence and a direct line of succession to prevent economic meltdown when dozens of people claimed their share of the companies. Really he should have seen this coming years ago. A fist seemed to tighten around Trowa's heart a burst of pain and then a burst of uncharacteristic hot anger coursed through him. Quatre wasn't asking, he'd made up his mind, for both of them. He let the familiar numbness take over as he shut down, his feelings ruthlessly suppressed. "You and Relena both need to marry and it has to be to someone with influence, but someone you can trust absolutely." He said adding together the pieces quickly.
Quatre nodded miserably "It's the best way to ensure lasting stability. It won't be too terrible. Relena and I work well together. We have always respected each other, and she understands, about you and me. We'll still be able to see each other. Just, not as often and we'll have to be more careful."
Trowa nodded silent, wondering when his blood had been replaced with ice and why it didn't hurt more. He stood and started sorting out the clothes lying on the floor discarding those too torn to wear again and throwing the rest into the laundry basket.
"Trowa?" The voice from behind him was small and uncertain, so unlike Quatre. Trowa turned Quatre's shirt still clasped in one hand "Please Trowa, I know it's not what we wanted but it can work. I know it can."
Trowa nodded again, that seemed to be all he could do at the moment. He cleared his voice "When is the wedding going to be?" he asked flatly.
"Next June, we'll be announcing it next week." Quatre told him, rising from the bed and placing a warm hand on his shoulder "It doesn't have to change anything, not really, not between us." he said again more firmly.
Trowa brushed the hair out Quatre's eyes affectionately "We'll make it work." he echoed and was rewarded with a warm smile. Trowa nodded one last time, nothing would change between them, they would make it work. He smiled at Quatre ruthlessly squashing the treacherous doubts that whispered to him.