The Heat Between Me and You

By The 41st Maguanac aka Galatea

Disclaimer: See Previous.

Author's Note: Apologies for any lack of continuity due to editing out the lemon section. As I said at the beginning of part 1, the full version of this story is available on my website at:

http://www.angelfire.com/anime4/chez_galatea

***

Trowa eased the drowsy blond into his arms and into the passenger seat of the jeep he had driven to get there. It was only 15 minutes back to the caravan site, but he hoped it wouldn't be too long. He would get Quatre to drink water before he slept, then he would…

Trowa's thoughts were interrupted as he realised that the blond was no longer silent, but actually trying to hold a conversation with him.

"I dizzn't mean to ge /hic/ get so drunk," he said, pulling Trowa's coat more tightly around him.

"Just relax, little one. We'll be home soon," Trowa said, a small affectionate smile appearing on his lips.

"Tro-waz gonna be real /hic/ real mad when he findz ot," the blond continued to murmur.

//My God, he has no idea who I am,// thought Trowa as he turned another corner on the winding path through the woods. Still, he wanted to keep Quatre from sleeping, and maybe this was the best way. A horrible image of Quatre choking to death in his sleep flashed through his mind for a moment, and he asked, "Who's this Trowa guy anyway?"

"He'z thiz /hic/ thiz guy I know. I… I luv 'im, but he /hic/ he hates me."

Trowa was astonished by this response. Why did Quatre think that he hated him? How could he think that after… after everything they'd been through? "What makes you say that?" he asked.

"I… I tol' him that I /hic/ I luv him today, bu' he left me… and I foun' this magic /hic/ magi' drink tha' made all m-my problems go a /hic/ away…"

Trowa realised that Quatre was crying again, innocent tears being absorbed by the material of his thick coat. //It doesn't stop the tears though, does it?// Trowa thought. //Nothing can stop the tears. No magic drink can cure a broken heart… and I broke it. Lord have mercy on my immortal soul and condemn me now before I cause him any more pain.//

Trowa noticed that the tears had stopped and that those beautiful blue eyes were gazing at him again. He glanced over for a moment, keeping one eye on the road. "Are you all right?"

"I… jus' wan'ed someone to /hic/ luv me…"

Trowa smiled a little. "I love you, little one."

"D-do ya reeeeally?"

Trowa nodded, turning his full attention back to the road.

"Wil' you make luv to me?"

There was a sudden screech of brakes as the jeep skidded to a halt, teetering on the edge of the roadside ditch. Trowa gripped the steering wheel with both hands, staring out ahead of him. //I won't look at him. I can't look at him. If I do, I don't know where it will all stop. I care about him too much to let that happen.//

"Whass wrong?" came the gentle slurred voice from beside him.

"Quatre I… I… I can't."

He stole another look at Quatre to see that those pretty sapphire eyes were brimming over with tears again. "B-b-but why?"

Trowa leant against the steering wheel, resting his head on it. "Because you're drunk, Quatre."

"But you sai' you luv'd me! I don' /hic/ I don' ask fo' you to stay with me, jus' take me, please? You don' have to tell the truth, jus' make luv with me. Can' you jus' pre /hic/ pretend? I know that we don' know eachoth'r too well /hic/ I jus'… I jus'…" Quatre let out a choked sob that shook Trowa right to core. He couldn't bear this. He couldn't stay here, because he didn't trust himself. He didn't trust his own body.

Trowa flung the car door open and stepped out on to the badly laid road. His head was spinning, and he needed some air. He needed time to think.

//In that car,// he thought, //is the one person I love… more than anyone else. If I don't take this chance now, I may never get it again… but he doesn't know what he's doing. He doesn't even think I'm Trowa. What would he do in the morning if he woke up and remembered? Would he even know it was me that he'd… Oh God I'm confused…//

There was a heavy clunk from the other side of the jeep as Quatre climbed out on to the roadside, Trowa's coat still wrapped tightly around him. Using the car as support, he stumbled over to Trowa.

"I'm sorr'," he murmured. "I… I dizguzt you, and I'm sorry…"

A finger was placed gently on his cool lips, and Trowa shook his head. "No, Quatre, you don't disgust me. I love you Quatre, and one day I will make love to you, I promise." Trowa leant down and captured Quatre's soft lips with his own warmer ones. The kiss was long, but Trowa broke no boundaries, in fear of where his own body would take him if he did. He finally pulled away, and Quatre raised a finger to his own trembling lips.

"You… you kissed me."

Trowa nodded.

Quatre leaned forward to him, and beckoned him closer. "Can I tell you a sec /hic/ secret?"

Trowa lowered his head a little so Quatre could whisper in his ear, the warm breath sending tingling sensations through all his senses. "Go ahead," he murmured.

"You hav' a reeeeeeeeal perdy mouth," said Quatre with a giggle, as he lost his balance and fell forward. Trowa's arms gripped him before he hit the pavement, but it was not enough to save his suede shoes from the torrent of vomit that suddenly emerged the mouth of his loved one.

Trowa raised a hand and gently stroked Quatre's hair as the blond emptied his body of the vile liquor which he had spent the whole evening ingesting. He reached in his pocket and passed Quatre a Kleenex tissue to mop up his mouth and tears with, before helping him to climb back into the car for the remainder of the journey home.

***

Quatre was half-asleep by the time Trowa finally got him back to the campsite. Duo was still up and waiting for them, and gave Trowa a silent nod as he climbed his way into his caravan, before returning across the campsite to his own lodgings with Heero.

Inside his own caravan, Trowa was doing his best to make sure that Quatre was comfortable and awake while he ran around trying to find a glass of water for him. This was a lot more difficult than it had seemed when he had been plotting it on the drive back. The more comfortable Quatre was, the more easily he fell into a doze, meaning that Trowa could not manage to get across the room without Quatre falling over sideways.

After three failed attempts to get Quatre leaned safely against something, Trowa gave it up as a bad idea. On the third time, Quatre had managed to bang his head on the bedside table when he slipped, and Trowa was not exactly keen on giving him matching bruises to find when he woke up. There was only one thing for it; Quatre would have to come with him.

"Quatre?" he asked, quite loudly, shaking him by the shoulder.

"Jus' lemme sleep," whined Quatre without opening his eyes. "It duzzn't matter…"

"Quatre, you are gonna have one Hell of a hangover in the morning if you don't drink some water before you go to sleep. Now come on. Can you walk?"

"Sur' I can," whined Quatre as he pulled himself to a standing position then almost fell face-first on to the carpet.

Trowa shook his head despairingly, wrapping his arms securely around Quatre as he helped him to walk. "Now, take it steady. Just one step at a time."

***

"They're back."

"How is he?"

"Oh, you know Quatre. He'll be back on his feet with a couple of aspirin."

"I was talking about Trowa."

Duo glanced over at Heero, who was still finishing a document he had been working on for most of the afternoon. "Trowa?"

Heero turned in his seat and gave Duo a hard glare. "Yes. I don't mean that he was right, but he's probably a bit confused at the moment."

"But he loves Quatre! It's so obvious that he does!"

"It is not in his best interest for us to interfere. Things take their natural course, and Trowa knows as well as I do that the only way to live a good life is to…"

"I know, I know," interrupted Duo impatiently, "'is to live by your emotions', blah blah blah. Maybe he just needs a little push…?"

"Duo?"

"Yes?" he replied in a small voice.

"Leave it," said Heero in a commanding tone, as though Duo was a dog he had just caught peeing in his slippers. "You can never leave things well enough alone, can you?"

Duo pouted and shook his head. "I can't help it! I can't stop thinking about it, I need to help them."

"Duo. Come here."

Duo slowly stood up and walked the few paces from his perch on the bed to where Heero was sitting by the desk. In one fluid motion, Heero hauled Duo on to him, so he sat astride his lap. "Yes, Hee-chan?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

"I'll give you something else to think about, okay?" said Heero, cracking one of his rare smiles.

"'Kay," replied Duo with a grin, relaxing into the gentle caresses and warm mouth of his lover.

***

The scene in the little caravan kitchen was something of a humorous one. Quatre was giggling uncontrollably as Trowa tried to keep him upright by pinning him against the sideboard with the use of his own body.

Trowa shuffled around, trying to pull a glass out of the cupboard, without moving so far from Quatre as to let him slip and fall over. All this was proving to be rather difficult, and it was by no means being made any easier by Quatre's insistence upon constantly shifting his hips. Trowa was trying his best to do the right thing, but every time Quatre moved against him, he had to suppress to urge to start tearing his Goddamn clothes off and taking him on the linoleum floor.

"That tickles!" giggled Quatre as Trowa pushed gently against him in order to close the cupboard door.

//You have no idea,// thought Trowa to himself as he gently eased Quatre over to the sink in order to fill the glass. To his astonishment, Quatre had started babbling on about him again, as though he was someone else completely. Did he really still not recognise him? He seemed to have lost some of his slur at any rate.

"… And then there was the time we wen' up to the lake, and, and we held hands a little while we looked up at the stars…"

//I remember, Quatre.//

"… And it was so pretty. I don' think he noticed when I slipped my han' into his, but it was nice jus' the same…"

//I did notice. How could I have been so blind?//

Quatre shifted as Trowa moved to turn the tap on, the friction against him inducing the telltale sign of heat in his groin, which could only lead to one thing. He closed his eyes as he let the water fill the glass and spill over on to his fingers, the icy stream helping cool the fire within him somewhat.

He passed the glass to Quatre, who sipped away at it happily enough. Trowa almost felt a pang of jealousy towards the glass, his own lips longing for the attention that it was getting, despite the knowledge that it would be wrong right now.

"Okay?" he asked.

Quatre nodded as he drained the rest of the water, and watched as Trowa filled it again. "Keep drinking, unless you want a killer headache tomorrow."

"I like you, you're warm," said Quatre dozily as he started to drink his second glass, leaning back quite heavily against Trowa as he pinned him carefully to prevent him falling over.

"Uhhh…" Trowa stifled a moan as the blond accidentally rubbed against his aching erection through his clothes. //Please tell me he hasn't noticed…// thought Trowa desperately, not daring to look directly at Quatre as the blond turned to face him.

"Whassat?"

Trowa's breath froze in his throat. "What?"

A pair of aquamarine coloured eyes probed the depths of his soul carefully. He seemed more mesmerised by something else though…

"You have his eyes…" said Quatre slowly, raising his hand to rest it on Trowa's cheek. "Trowa has the most beautiful eyes…"

Trowa gently placed his hand over the softer one lightly caressing his face and smiled. "You have the most beautiful eyes."

"Thank you…" murmured Quatre as he wrapped his arms around Trowa's back, linking them and burying his face in his chest. Trowa smiled a little. It was the most angelic sight he had ever witnessed.

"You don't need to thank me, Quatre. I need to thank you. I need to thank you for everything you've done for me over the years. All those times when you tried to get close to me, and I just shoved you away as if I didn't care… but I did care. I didn't even realise it at the time, but I was feeling so much more for anyone than ever before. I had no parents… no friends… just a set of regulations to follow, and someone else's name. How could I hope to find you, when I hadn't even found myself? But that's all changed now. I feel like I can trust someone. I'd like to learn to love someone, the way you love people Quatre. While people like you exist, there's hope for people like me… I… I love you, Quatre. I love you."

Trowa paused briefly to inhale the scent from his loved ones hair, letting a tear of his own fall into the soft golden locks. "Quatre…?"

Trowa was answered only by the soft snores of the wounded dove he held so closely in his arms. He kissed the top of his head, easing the glass from his hand, and lifting him with care, doing his best not to disturb him.

He walked back to his caravan as quickly as possible. Quatre had a caravan elsewhere he knew, but the thought of being parted from that soft, warm being for more than a minute was already beginning to claw at his soul, and instead he carefully undressed first Quatre, then himself down to just boxers, and crawled beneath his heap of blankets on his little circus bed.

With Quatre's back pressed securely against his chest, and his face buried in the back of his neck, Trowa was finally able to breath a sigh of contentment, and eventually slipped into sleep's warm embrace.

***

The following morning dawned bright and clear. The sun had not long tentatively peeped its head over the horizon when the chill in the morning air awoke Quatre from the protective cushion of sleep which had held him for the past few hours.

The first thought that registered was a heavy pain in his head, as though someone had balanced an invisible brick on top of his brow. It was a thick, heavy pain, which made his head seem to weigh about 100 kilograms more than usual. He opened one extremely bleary eye, blinking hard, unwilling to pull his arms out from under the covers as a wide window was letting a very nippy breeze into the caravan.

All of the circus caravans were basically the same. They were rather small, only about 2 metres in height, and 7 or so metres in length. The decorator had obviously been very unimaginative, as they were all painted in 'Magnolia' and the floor was a dull blue carpet. Quatre opened his other eye, beginning to take in the familiarities of the room. It all felt like a dream, and the aching in his head was certainly not helping.

He had gone to a bar… yes, he was sure of that much. He could remember why he'd gone to the bar, but for the sake of his headache, decided not to think about that too much for the time being… until he'd got some aspirin at least.

Still, there was one thing missing from his memory… possibly the most important part in fact. How had he got home from the bar? There were flickers of memories running around his mind. He remembered the barwoman… there was a whole lot of alcohol, his headache was telling him that much. He remembered people… and music.

//And a pair of green eyes as bright as…//

"Trowa…" Quatre whispered the word to himself reverently, barely enough breath passing his lips to make the word audible. He could remember Trowa. He was the only one he knew with eyes like that, like fireflies trapped behind glass. Or was his memory so screwed up that he had wished he were with Trowa? He groaned to himself, falling into a pool of self-pity for a moment as scraps of memories from the night before flitted teasingly through his mind.

//I love you, little one.//

Had Trowa really said those words to him? It was Trowa's face that coloured his dreams, but he couldn't be sure. He had wanted him so much for so long that every dream he had often came out that way. Sometimes they seemed so real that he actually believed that Trowa was still in bed with him when he woke up the following morning, his soft breath on the back of his neck. Then he'd roll over, and it would just be cold reality, reminding him that he was a stupid fool.

//But not today,// he thought. //Today I'll lie here on my side, staring at these white washed walls, feeling that same warm breath, because I don't have anything else. These strands of dreams I have left are all I have to get me through another day, and for now… that's all I have.//

And yet, no other dream had ever been so vivid as this. He could almost have sworn that beneath the bedclothes, a pair of warm and muscular arms was wrapped around his little frame, someone else's soft hair pressing against the nape of his neck. He tried to move, but found the ghostly arms he imagined were holding him very firmly. A cold wave of panic passed over him.

//It can't be Trowa,// he thought, his eyes beginning to dart helplessly across the scene directly in front of him. He couldn't turn enough to see who was behind him, but it was definitely someone. The thought of what he might have done was so staggering that he felt sick. Had he…? Could he have met another man at the bar and…? He knew how heartbroken he'd felt…

//Wil' you make luv to me?//

//Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit,// he thought desperately, there HAD been someone! And they were there now, in his bed!! What would Trowa say if he walked in right now? Actually, knowing Trowa, he'd probably say nothing, but Quatre didn't even know this guy!

Quatre's eyes finally alighted on half a leftover glass of water, which had been left on the bedside table. He had a feeling that the guy behind him was very strong, so the water would give him time to run for the door and yell for help if necessary.

Carefully as he possibly could, Quatre eased his arm upwards and out of the warm embrace with a sigh. Whatever he was like as a person, the young man had a wonderful smell, dark and husky, the smell of something faintly familiar clung to him, though Quatre couldn't put his finger on what. His hand alighted on the glass, wrapping his fingers around it, getting used to the cool pressure against his warmer hand.

The figure behind him stirred in his sleep, and Quatre froze. The sleeping man murmured something incoherent, snuggling closer against Quatre's back, pressing a soft kiss between his shoulder blades before falling back into a doze again. Quatre felt a pang of guilt as he realised that he was enjoying this a little too much. This was the kind of closeness he had always dreamt of with… //Oh, shut up. Just… shut up.//

The thought of Trowa crossing his mind again was enough to spur Quatre into gripping the glass more tightly. He could feel his fear winding up every muscle in his body, waiting for the spring when he'd fire himself across the room. Hoping for the best, Quatre splashed the glass of freezing water on to the head of the person behind him.

As it turned out, perhaps Quatre was not as good a strategist as he'd liked to believe…

Instead of releasing him and spluttering in the sudden indoor rainstorm, the figure stirred instantly, every muscle in his body tensing as his arm gripped Quatre tightly, and he felt himself being hauled backwards off the bed. Something banged to his left, but he couldn't turn to see what it was, being held in position too tightly. There was the click of a safety catch… then for a moment, nothing.

***

Trowa had been woken by a number of different things over the last 18 years of his life, but he had to admit that having something freezing cold slopped over his face at 7.30 in the morning was not one of them.

He had been having a wonderful dream too. He had been sailing through a giant blue sea, floating on a giant version of his circus mask. Way in the distance, he could see a little golden island where the sun was shining. He wasn't sure why, but he knew he had to get there. The storm would be over.

Of course, generally in dreams with storms, you didn't actually get wet.

Trowa had been trained to be one of the fastest of the Gundam pilots. He was faster than Heero, and practically as strong, and he knew that attacks during sleeping were common, almost cliché to the pilots. They had been victim to more assassination attempts than he could count.

In barely a second, the memories of the night before were ordered, and he knew that there was more than one person he had to save. Quatre was right there next to him, he could feel him, and he'd be damned if he was going to let anything happen to him. Quickly as possible, he gripped Quatre tightly and sprung off the back of the bed, his hand reaching to the little bedside table to scoop up the revolver he always kept there. He flicked off the catch, Quatre held to his side so as to block him if the intruder had a weapon, his body ready, and his eyes scanning meticulously…

***

//Oh my God, he's got a gun…// thought Quatre in terror, as he found himself dangling with his feet a couple of inches off the ground. Whoever this guy was, he was TALL.

Trowa continued glancing around the room, still unable to find his target. His eyes alighted on the empty glass of water on the bed, and the droplets which were gently trickling down his face, and on the…

…elbow that caught him in the stomach rather unexpectedly, which had Quatre on the other end of it. He doubled over, momentarily winded, and the blond flew at him, knocking them both to the ground. The revolver skidded out of reach, and Trowa found himself being attacked by the irate little Arabian.

This little scene was not a million miles away from one that Trowa had dreamt up, he realised. Two hot writhing bodies on the floor of a hotel, a beach, a lab, a forest, it didn't matter. No matter where it was, it always ended too quickly. In fear of what his body would do if he didn't control it, Trowa gripped Quatre's wrists, one in each hand, rolling them both over and pinning Quatre to the ground beneath him.

Quatre fought blindly, closing his eyes and scratching at any flesh that came within his reach. He may not have been the strongest pilot, but he sure as Hell wasn't going down without a fight. The guy was strong though, far stronger than he was, and in one fluid motion he was lying on his back, his arms pinned above his head. Panic overwhelming him, he did the last thing he knew how…

"Somebody HELP M-…" A hand blurred across his vision and silenced his mouth. His eyes sprung upon, and fixed upon a pair of blazing green ones mere inches above him.

//Trowa!//

//Quatre…//

They lay like this for a few moments, Trowa's hand still pressed over Quatre's mouth, though a lot more softly now. Quatre no longer struggled, and lay with his chest heaving in oxygen after his early morning battle, the roots of his headache trying to ease into his brain once more as if he wouldn't notice.

"… I'm sorry, Quatre."

Trowa was the first to speak, his voice a little croaky considering it was the first time he'd used it since he'd been awoken so rudely. He removed his hand from Quatre's mouth, moving gently to one side so as to give Quatre some room to sit up.

"What for?" said Quatre as he gently sat up, rubbing his sore head.

"For lying to you yesterday." Trowa could feel Quatre's eyes burning a hole in the side of his head, but he daren't look at him. He saw no reason why Quatre should even be in the same room as him, considering what he'd said.

"Lying to me?"

"Yes. I lied when I acted like I didn't care about you. I lied when I acted like I didn't want you to kiss me. Like I didn't want to kiss you, when all I can think about most of the time is all the things that I long to do to you… I'm sorry Quatre. You don't have to say anything, I just felt you should know."

There was a long silence, more powerful than any Trowa has known before. Quatre hadn't moved, his eyes still watching Trowa with unyielding intensity. Unable to take the silence with which he was usually so comfortable, Trowa said, "You can go if you want to."

"… Do I have to?"

Trowa finally looked over at the honest face beside him. Quatre was actually smiling at him! He couldn't believe it! After all that, Quatre actually wanted to stay with him! "Y-you don't hate me?"

Quatre laughed and shook his head, his blonde bangs scattering across his forehead in a slightly dishevelled way. "Of course not! I just… I can't believe it… that you… you feel the same. I never thought… I was never good enough…"

Trowa raised his hand to Quatre's lips again to still them. "You are too good for me, little one. My little angel…"

The blond giggled, cutting Trowa off. "You'd better stop right there, Trowa Barton, before my ego gets any bigger!"

Trowa laughed now too, the idea of Quatre having anything that could be called an ego being too funny to even consider. Quatre finished his giggling, listening to Trowa for a moment, just enjoying his smiling face like a piece of artwork. "I really made a fool of myself last night, huh Trowa?"

Trowa nodded his head a little. "Don't worry little one, I won't tell the others about the little dancing incident.

Quatre's jaw dropped and he looked aghast. "I danced?? In front of a bunch of strangers??"

//Oops,// thought Trowa, having previously believed that Quatre had already remembered all this. "Well… yes."

Quatre eyed him, his eyebrow raised. "Trowa, if I did anything last night, I want you to tell me what. I don't want this coming back to haunt me later. My headache's already bad enough as it is."

Quatre's expression was so severe that Trowa found himself speaking without his brain intervening, "Well, you were kind of… dancing on the…"

"On the what, Trowa?"

"W-well you were very upset, and you'd kind of had a lot of…"

"Trowa!"

"On the bar."

Quatre's eyes widened and he rubbed his head. "Oh my…"

"…without your shirt on."

Trowa hadn't believed it was possible for anyone's eyes to get as big as Quatre's did at that moment. He stared out ahead of him, looking thoroughly mortified. "I-I don't believe it…" he said. He then turned back to Trowa. "And you watched me as I made a complete fool of myself?" Quatre's tone wasn't exactly angry, more curious, but it made Trowa squirm uncomfortably as he was reminded of all the lustful thoughts that had crossed his mind as he watched Quatre make sweet love with the smoky air around him.

"… Yes, I did. I never meant to hurt you, I just… I couldn't tear my eyes away. You were… incredible."

Quatre felt a blush creep into his cheeks, softly mumbling his thanks to the compliment before falling silent. A cheeky smile crept on to his lips, and he eventually said, "Well, maybe if you're really lucky, you'll get to see me dance again some day."

"I'd much rather hear you sing for me."

Quatre looked up to see Trowa's eyes gazing at him, a cool glaze shadowing them. "I really don't know how to si…" He raised a hand gently to his cheek as he realised that Trowa was not implying that he sing in the stricter sense of the word.

//Nice one Trowa,// he thought, chiding himself. "Sorry Quatre, I just…" This time, not a hand but a pair of lips stopped his mouth from the apology he was trying to make. They were soft and supple, and the moment he met with them he felt as though he were floating several feet in the air. His tongue lightly teased Quatre's teeth, quietly requesting access, which Quatre gave in a heartbeat. Trowa gently lifted his hands, pulling Quatre's little form towards his own to further deepen the kiss, trying to drown himself in the depths of that sweet mouth.

***

Trowa carefully eased himself on to the bed, lying on his back, feeling his body adopt its normal rhythm again. Quatre rolled on to his side, draping one arm across Trowa's chest, enjoying the closeness they now shared.

"I do love you, Trowa. I really do."

"And I love you, my little dove."

"You know what?"

"Yes, little one?"

"… I think my headache's gone."

And in the early morning light, the lovers dissolved into giggles once again.

~Owari~