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Trowa woke up feeling groggy, as if he hadn't slept at all, and that slight cramp in his neck had spread to his shoulders, lower back, legs, and... The young boy's face grew hot, without help from the soaring temperatures both inside and outside the van. His cheeks turned pale instead of red as he strained himself to sit upright in his seat and he felt his spine crack painfully. His pants were suddenly very tight and his throat very dry. A drop of sweat formed on his forehead which he nervously wiped at with the sleeve of his shirt before it could adventure into one of his eyes. After he did so he noticed, to his surprise, that he was not the only one awake now.

There was a long, distressing silence as two Gundam pilots stared at each other in intimate quarters. Heero had a tired and confused look on his face which worried Trowa. Does he know?

"Trowa..." the bed-ridden boy muttered, testing out his voice. He was looking into Trowa's eyes but his mind was elsewhere, likely analyzing his situation and injuries. After a long pause he finally spoke again. "What day is it?"

"Sunday," Trowa answered anxiously. His erection pressed at the zipper on his pants as if it intended to escape but settled for reminding him it was still there, as if he needed to be reminded. He felt light-headed, perhaps because he was nervous, or hot, or maybe because alot of his blood was anywhere but in his brain at the moment. He bit his lip, hoping to send the message to his blood to 'get back up here!' but it really didn't achieve anything. He was extremely nervous having woken up in such a compromised situation and his heart was beating rampantly. Did he see? Can he see from there?

"Have these been changed recently?" Heero motioned with his chin to the saturated bandages wrapped around his otherwise bare chest.

"W-well, Catherine normally changes them in the evening but I can change them for you now if you wish." Trowa wanted to slap himself for the obvious nervous inflection in his voice. You sound so stupid, he scolded himself.

"Alright." Heero carefully used his abdominal muscles to lower himself back onto the bed rather than his arms which were painfully weak and jelly-like. He starred up at the ceiling, secretly disappointed with himself that he'd become so helpless and dependent on others in such a short time. So easily, he thought.

With joints cracking audibly and an erection that did not know when to quit, Trowa swiftly maneuvered himself out of the booth-like seat, taking great care not to face Heero's direction as he stood. He hurried to the washroom at the back of the camper van in as normal a walk as his groin would allow, where he assumed Catherine kept the bandages specifically stashed for Heero. With but a few moments of searching he found them sealed in a ziplock bag, inside a cardboard box on a shelf behind two thick and neatly folded green towels. He quietly placed the box on the floor next to the sink and looked at his reflection in the mirror. It starred blankly back at him. At first glance his skin looked eerily colourless and his green eyes were dull, almost lifeless. I look like shit.

He smiled at himself in the mirror, squishing his cheeks with his fingertips to exaggerate it, then washed his face. He thought of the upcoming performance scheduled for the next day and his act with Catherine in hopes of alleviating his southern problem but it wasn't working fast enough. He tried thinking about his Gundam HeavyArms, then Catherine again, and even the circus manager who seemed to derive a sick pleasure from Trowa's humiliation, atleast he thought so. It nearly worked until, in it's quest, his mind came across that blond-haired boy he'd met a while ago, the one who was also a Gundam pilot. Quatre... There was something enticing about the name. Infact, everything Trowa knew of him thus far only left him wanting to know more. He couldn't say he really noticed but the blond had been surfacing in his mind regularly since they'd met and with growing frequency. Much to Trowa's dismay, that was not the only thing growing right then either.

Back in the main room of the camper Heero waited patiently for Trowa to return with the medical supplies. He felt thankful that he could not remember his dreams from the other night or he was certain he would be reliving them again at that moment. Although, as weary as they made him sometimes, he knew in his heart it was a just price to pay for taking so many lives; no matter whose side they were on. And now, on top of everything else, there was Noventa. Another innocent person was dead because of his mistakes. Nightmares for a human life was not a fair trade when it came to civilians. He reminded himself of that fact every day. He couldn't help it. But, he mused, maybe I can help this one...

Before Heero's mind was left to come up with anything concrete, a calmer, more familiar Trowa returned to his bedside with a brown box and set it down. From it he produced a bag of clean bandages, then a couple pins, followed by a small bottle of hand sanitizer and larger bottle of antiseptic. He started by cleaning his hands. Heero noticed they were very slender, although not quite bony, with long, delicate fingers which he took the time to clean thoroughly. Heero also noticed that before it had seemed Trowa was nervous and anxious in his company but now appeared to be back to his usual self. He wondered briefly if he was hiding something, but the thought passed easily.

As Trowa removed the old wrappings, applied antiseptic, and redressed his wounds, Heero watched him as if analyzing an enemy in battle. Trowa was aware of the scrutiny but never broke stride in his task. Normally under the pressure of such an intense and focused gaze coming from anyone he might've slipped up but his mind was preoccupied with other things at that moment. The vague notion of failure lingered only in the back of his mind which was so abnormal for Trowa that it gave him a surprising amount of confidence in his administrations. It also encouraged him to let his thoughts wander as he told himself, I can do this with my eyes closed.

In his mind he could picture that pilot so easily; it was as if he were sleeping again. Quatre... He loved to say the name in his head and was beginning to suppose he would enjoy it more to be able to say it aloud. He doubted he would ever have the chance to see him again so his thoughts were really nothing more than a silly, albeit welcome, distraction from reality. Maybe, one day, he thought, we could wind up friends. Or maybe...

Trowa's hands stopped working, paused, clasping the final pin to secure the bandages. He wasn't even aware of it. In his mind he began shamelessly picturing inappropriate things involving the blond Gundam pilot. Quatre smiling innocently, removing his shirt and vest followed by his pants, and then bending ov--

"Trowa?" The surprising voice of reality rang loudly in his ears. "Are you finished?"

Trowa looked down at his fingers incoherently and noticed the last pin. He deftly pierced it through the pieces of bandage to hold them together, then sat up straight. Having received no response, Heero glanced back over his shoulder and attempted to look down at his back then he turned to his left so he could face Trowa without straining his neck. They were both sitting on the bed, shoulder touching shoulder, so it was not hard for Heero to notice, without intending to, what was going on with his nurse. He forced the saliva down his dry throat calmly while considering what his next action would be.

Meanwhile, Trowa was caught between the daydream and reality still. He watched Heero as he carefully moved around on the cot but he didn't want to let the image of Quatre go. I can't be thinking of him right now, he told himself. Not while in the company of other people. But I cannot stop. He watched as Heero moved around some more, probably to get comfortable, but continued to let his thoughts distract him. Were he paying more attention he might have been able to guess what Heero's intentions were by the way he was leaning into the taller Gundam pilot and switching his gaze from up, Trowa's eyes, to down, to up again.

"Trowa," he breathed after realizing his movements thus far had gone unnoticed. When even that produced no effect from the silent boy, Heero, with great strain because his arms were still weakened, placed his hand in Trowa's lap, innocently at first; atleast he considered it to be. This produced a better result for him. There was a short gasp, which Heero fully expected, quickly suppressed and Trowa starred at him in surprise. He decided to test the waters in Trowa's momentary stupor and, while looking into Trowa's eyes in hopes of getting a glimpse of his true feelings, he moved his hand blindly over the front of his pants until he found what he wanted.

"W-what are you doing?" Trowa mumbled anxiously. His erection responded to Heero's hand like an excited schoolboy raising his hand in class after the teacher had asked an inanely easy question. It pressed firmly against Trowa's tight jeans, begging to be let out for playtime. Why is Heero doing this? Why would he want to...

"Acting on my emotions," Heero said in a stronger, darker voice much different from his usual tone. It was almost harsh but the power in his voice was reassuring, something Trowa seemed to need.

Why me? Trowa's thoughts were full of doubt even as Heero began kissing him. He didn't know what he should do, how he should move. He felt incompetent just sitting there motionless on the bed as Heero simultaneously stuck his tongue between Trowa's lips, gently coaxing them open, and unzipped his pants which proved a little more difficult than he had anticipated due to the folds a pair of jeans tends to acquire in the crotch area. Trowa's eager and impatient cock didn't help much either. Do I really want this? His body sure did, but that was the only thing he knew for certain. He couldn't help but feel worse and worse about himself for thinking so much instead of just going with the flow. What if I do something wrong? Can he tell I'm inexperienced? What if I think of Quatre...?

Heero leaned back from Trowa's lips for a moment, his hand still halfway inside the boy's pants, and wondered if he was pushing Trowa too far. Wasn't this what he wanted, Heero asked himself. He'd thought so up until the point that he'd decided to make the first move and now Trowa just seemed...uninterested, or in shock maybe. No explanation he could come up with sounded exactly right in his mind. There weren't any answers in his facial expression either, he just looked indifferent which Heero knew could mean anything. Quiet people were such mysteries.

After hastily thinking it through Trowa finally decided what he would do. One more, he told himself. One more kiss and I'll stop thinking. It was a silent promise to himself, and really just left the decision up to Heero who had no way of knowing what was going on inside his head. He could only hope there would be a one more. I'm so powerless.

"You can relax," Heero said thinly, with an accidental condescending look on his face. One more try. He moistened his lips with his tongue and kissed Trowa again, this time making a slight effort to start from the beginning and wait for him to open his mouth on his own. It seemed to work. Heero's hand stayed glued to Trowa's crotch but didn't really move. It was more or less left there simply to make sure he continued to enjoy things. Trowa didn't appear to mind.

There was an inaudible sigh of relief from Trowa as things heated up again. The thought of rejection fueled him to match Heero's lust, mimicking the placement of hands and swirl of tongue. Am I doing this right? He tried not to care. When Trowa's hand mistakenly discovered what was fueling Heero, namely his hard cock, he wanted to take it back. He pretended like he hadn't touched it at all and quickly moved his hand to Heero's bruised right hip. The unexpected sensations of pleasure then pain caused Heero to push the taller boy away and down onto the small, springy bed. His arm felt instantly drained from the exertion but he did not regret it.

"I'm sorry," Trowa said softly before even knowing if he'd done something wrong. What is wrong with you?! The reprimand started quickly in his head. You blew it!

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