Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. I'm not making any money off this. This is a non-profit story that's been written for...fun. I have a twisted sense of fun.
Pairing: None.
Warnings: Uh...smoking. Can't think of any.
Title: Detention
Author's Note: Been awhile since I updated, but I hope this makes up for it. I worked really hard on it, Jenn, one of my beta's is ready to have my head. Lol. I can somewhat guarantee that Ch. 3 will be awhile. Anyway, please enjoy.
Special Thanks: To all my readers and all the people who have reviewed. I hope you all continue to and I hope you all enjoy.
"Duo, sh," Quatre whispered. It was Wednesday morning, the third day of school, and the two were in first period English. He had already pegged the braided boy as a trouble maker from the moment he saw him. Or the moment they had found themselves sitting together, Duo in the seat behind Quatre. On the second day of class, Duo had shown up with a fake rattle snake that rattled and hissed when you pressed a button and snuck it into the teacher's desk when she wasn't paying attention. He had to admit, the screams were pretty funny...
However, now as they were taking a pre-test on all the things they were supposed to have learned in the past eight years, Quatre was annoyed to find Duo constantly poking his back with the tip of his pencil. The braided boy leaned forward once more, giving Quatre's back another sharp jab. "Come on Quatre...what's the answer to number thirteen?" he asked.
"I told you, I'm not helping you cheat," he hissed back furiously, trying to cover his paper the best he could from the violet, probing eyes. He felt the poke again and shifted, moving closer to the desk top, trying to put as many inches as possible between himself and the pencil.
"Quatre, come on. One little answer won't matter. Mrs. Humphrey won't even notice," he murmured back. He hated tests, his mind always went blank. Blanker than the piece of paper in front of him. He had always been a decent student, he had to be in order to play sports, but the tests were what always got him. Never fail, he never passed with anything higher than a C. "Quatre," he hissed louder.
"No Duo, stop it!" Quatre exclaimed softly, turning in his seat to look at his somewhat friend. Duo quickly glanced at Quatre's answers, memorizing numbers thirteen through twenty-five in a blink of the eye. He had learned to be quick over the years.
"Mr. Winner. Mr. Maxwell. I warned you once this hour already about talking during a test. I have no choice but to issue you both detentions for this afternoon with coach Sanderson. Maybe this will teach you boys not to cheat," Mrs. Humphrey shrilled from behind her desk. She shoved her pink eyeglasses farther up the bridge of her nose, the artificial light catching on the rhinestones adorning the plastic frames. She shifted in her seat, withdrawing the detention slips and patting her too-red hair in place. "Collect the slips at the end of class and I'll notify Coach Sanderson that she'll be seeing you this afternoon."
Quatre groaned, slumping back in his chair and shooting Duo a glare before hurrying to finish his test before Mrs. Humphrey decided on not accepting it on the basis of cheating. He was the first one to turn the test in and he collected his detention slip under the disapproving eyes of Mrs. Humphrey, signing it under her pointed nose. He winced as she made a small note next to his name on her roster: potential troublemaker.
Coach Olivia Sanderson surveyed the kids in detention with her, smiling a bit maliciously at them. "So, you five derelicts couldn't keep out of trouble for the first week back, could you?" she demanded. She tossed the tip of her highlighted ponytail behind her shoulder, walking up and down the aisle in between the hard, blue-plastic seats. "Barton, I see your back again. Smoking?" she asked.
Trowa ignored her, staring blankly ahead at the whiteboard. His fingers itched to reach for the cigarette pack and matchbook he kept hidden but that was what had first gotten him in here. With freshmen no less. He let out a soft, inaudible sigh, slouching down in one of the only orange plastic chairs in the field of blue, trying to cram himself in the small space. He knew the gymnastics he did for the circus would pay off someday.
To his left he saw the Chinese kid from his fitness class, the one who had come to Monday night's performance, out of the corner of his eye. He was sitting perfectly straight, yet at ease, eyes closed, breathing rhythmically. His head was tilted forward a bit, arms pulled in and hands resting comfortably in front of him on the desktop. Meditation...he thought to himself as he watched him a few seconds more. His face twitched a bit, hardening when the phone buzzed before once again becoming tranquil. The question of why the kid was in here briefly flashed across his mind but he ignored it.
The guy who Celia had a crush on was a few seats behind him, scowling at anyone and anything. He had his arms crossed in front of him, the skin of his forearm colored a fuzzy green and blue. Looked like paint. Coach Sanderson passed in front of him, on her way to the phone, and paused when the black rimmed eyes settled on her. Trowa paused as well, watching them, they really were a striking shade of blue...
On his right sat the freshman he had helped on the first day. The name escaped him at the moment, it hadn't made much of an impact after all, and he was whispering furiously with a boy with a long braid. The brown haired youth seemed to be pleading with the blonde, but Quatre (that was it), didn't seem to notice and Trowa smirked a bit.
"I have to leave you for a moment. On your own. I want no horsing around or it'll be a month of Saturday schools. Is that understood?" Coach demanded suddenly, setting down the class phone.
"Sure thing ma'am!" the braided one chortled, grinning. Her eyes narrowed, stance wavering as she looked at them all. Her conscience seemed to be telling her it was better to stay, that they could only get into trouble on their own, but the emergency in the office was more pressing...
The door clicked closed behind her. Immediately the one with the braid jumped up, sitting on the desktop so he could see all of them at once. "So how'd all you get in here?" he asked, grinning.
"You know how I got in here," Quatre hissed.
The boy grinned, looking at them. "I'm Duo, he's Quatre. What're your names?"
The Chinese boy opened an eye, looking at him in annoyance, his inner-peace shattered. "Why should you care?"
Duo made a face at him, rolling his eyes. "I dunno. I have this feeling that we'll be spending a lot of time in here together," he replied, laughing a little.
"Allah I hope not," Quatre moaned. A desk scraped a bit and he jumped, looking behind him at the boy with the paint on his arm. He made his way forward, pulling a jacket on as he walked to the front of the classroom slowly.
There is nothing wrong with acting on your emotions, no matter what they say.
It was on the board before anyone saw him write it. In perfect graffiti-style writing, large and bold and glaring for all to see. Done in green, black, and blue. He turned, sneakers thudding dully on the white tile as he made his way towards the door. The door opened as he got to it, Coach Sanderson standing there.
"And where are you going Mr...?"
"Yuy. Heero Yuy. Here," he handed her a slip of paper, not bothering to wait as she read it, just leaving. Coach Sanderson frowned, sitting down at her desk and rustling through her papers, not noticing as Trowa stood calmly and left the other three arguing quietly with each other.
"Interesting message," he said quietly as he approached the shorter boy further down the corridor, almost at the main hallway.
Heero turned quickly, fists slightly balled, looking at him before shrugging nonchalantly. "Yeah, well, I try," he replied absently. Trowa nodded a bit, looking at him curiously. He was a very interesting person to look at.
"Something you want?" he asked, tilting his head a bit to meet Trowa's eyes.
"Uh, no," Trowa replied quickly, catching himself staring. "Trowa Barton," he added, extending his hand.
Heero raised an eyebrow, a small smirk forming on his mouth. "Heero Yuy," he replied, "I don't shake hands, sorry." Trowa shrugged, letting his hand fall to his side. "Your in...?"
"Tenth," Trowa supplied. "And your in ninth?" At Heero's nod he sighed. Of course he would have to be in ninth. He tilted his head minutely, looking at the smaller boy from between the auburn strands of hair that seemed to always fall in his face, which suited him just fine.
Unruly dark hair hung in his eyes, framing his pale face. Cobalt eyes were outlined in eyeliner, or something similar since it seemed to be a different texture...He had a leather bracelet on one wrist, the other had a black leather band with bright green spikes on it. Black pants with hanging silver chains and a dark green shirt with spray paint on the hem. And bright mustard yellow sneakers.
"Interesting style." He was rewarded with a hard, cobalt glare.
Heero's eyes ran quickly over Trowa's chalk-white face, black eyebrows which didn't match his auburn hair, green eyes thickly outlined in black, and black lips. Down over the black leather trench coat - the straps cinched tight with silver buckles, slightly obscuring the black turtleneck underneath, the sleeves reached down to his knuckles and long fingers ended in black painted nails. Black pants had silver spikes along the pockets and like his own, chains connected each pocket to the other, the pants bypassed the trench coat at his ankles, stopping at the combat boots.
"Yours too," he replied off handedly. The eyeliner really did bring out the green of his eyes though, it helped enhance the color... He caught a glimpse of the clock over Trowa's shoulder and cursed softly under his breath.
"Something wrong?"
"Damn it. I'm late." He turned on his heel, sneakers echoing down the hall. Trowa glanced around, he was sure Coach would notice him gone any minute now and he was dying for a smoke..
"Hey, where you heading?" he asked, catching up to the boy again. Heero shot him a sidelong look out of the corner of his eye.
"Work. Why?" he asked.
Trowa shrugged again. "Want some company there?" They exited the glass doors into the student parking lot and he pulled out a cigarette, lighting it as they passed another No Smoking sign...just for spite.
Heero glanced at him. "Whatever," he muttered, then locked onto Trowa's cigarette. "Those are bad for you," he commented as he exited school grounds.
Trowa rolled his eyes. God, not another one, he thought, thinking back on the lectures Catherine had given him over the years.
Water dripped from roof tops and tree branches above them. Pit-pat...pit-pat...pit-pat... It was strangely soothing in the quiet that enshrouded them. Heero glanced nervously over at Trowa as the made their way down the street. There was something about the guy that just...unnerved him. And he rarely felt nervous around anyone, so why should he be any different. Maybe because he was quiet, just like him. Their walk to the restaurant was silent, with Trowa taking long drags from that damned cigarette. He hated them, his father had smoked.
Another thought bothered him as well, did he really want Trowa to know where he worked? Well, why not? It wasn't like the guy had threatened him or anything, just unsettled him. No big deal, right? He swallowed a little, adjusting his backpack. Should he attempt to make small talk? He was horrible at it. He only talked when there was a need to. There wasn't a need to now, and anyway, maybe Trowa would get the hint and leave.
They were approaching the restaurant, Heero could see it's old brick, a rarity in most colonies, facade amongst the more recent metallic buildings. But this was the older part, when they still built in stone, not metal. He glanced over at Trowa as they headed into the more deteriorated parts of the colony, passing broken walls where grass miraculously grew and graffiti, some of it his, marked the crumbling walls. "Er...thanks, I guess," he said after a moment. "But, shouldn't you be on your way?"
Trowa shrugged, the trench coat flapped a little in the artificial wind. "I am. I live this way," he replied. He removed another cigarette, placing it between his lips and pulled out a match, striking it up. He was about to light the cigarette when Heero glared, hitting his hand so that the match fell onto the broken sidewalk, extinguishing itself in the remains of a muddy puddle. His eyes flashed briefly, jaw clenching. "What the?"
"It's bad for your health," he said quietly, looking down at the match. He twisted it into the hard ground with his foot, making sure it was out, before continuing on his way. Trowa stared at his back for a moment, noticing the stiff posture, tension in the shoulders. He couldn't believe what had just happened. Catherine had never even tried that.
He walked a little quicker, chains hitting chains and spikes, catching up to Heero. "Wait a moment." Heero turned slowly, looking up to meet Trowa's eyes, head tilted to see between his bangs. Trowa hesitated a moment, he wasn't forward. It went against every fiber in his being. "Never mind," he said after a moment. He turned and left, walking quickly, but still appearing to be at leisure, wanting to put as much distance between himself and Heero.
He sighed, closing the laptop and looking down at the despondent child stretched across the faded blue-and-beige striped sofa. "Alright, want me to take you somewhere tonight?" he asked. She sat up quickly, grinning at him, eyes twinkling brightly.
"The circus!" she exclaimed, going over to him. "Pwease?" He smiled faintly, looking at the clock. His mother was working a double shift tonight and he knew she wouldn't know if they were gone. And it was just a few extra dollars...
"Okay," he said. He stood, picking her up and setting her on the counter, fetching her shoes and slipping them on her feet. She was grinning and giggling like crazy, he couldn't figure out why, it was just a circus. After making sure she was wearing her jacket, he put his on, hesitated, then wrote his mother a note, incase she came home early. "Ready?" At her nod he opened the door and led her out, locking it behind him.
The circus was lit up with bright spotlights and there seemed to be a mob of people waiting to buy tickets or to go in. It was surrounded by a wooden fence about six feet high. He sighed when he caught sight of the price. No way he'd be able to pay for the tickets. He picked up Tama and started following the curve of the fence. There. A section of it was broken. He smiled a bit, setting her down in front of it.
"Go on in Tama, it's a secret entrance. I'll follow in a second," he told her. She smiled again, pleased at the prospect of a special entrance only they knew about, entering as he shoved one of the boards out of the way. After making sure no one was watching, he followed her.
"Hey! You!"
A man in a red jacket with coattails and a black velvet top hat approached them. Heero grabbed Tama's hand, turning to pull her away but paused when he saw the girl behind him. She had curly red hair and was dressed in some sort of costume but that wasn't what stopped him, it was the knife in her hand.
"What do you think your doing? Do you have a ticket?" the guy demanded. Heero slowly picked up Tama as she began to squirm and fuss. "Answer me punk!"
"They're with me. My guests," a calm voice said from somewhere behind the girl.
She spun around. "Trowa? You know these people?"
"Yes." He walked over, calmly, completely at ease. He was dressed as a clown now, half a mask on his face, obscuring it even more. The white face paint, black lipstick, eyeliner, and nail polish were gone now as well. "I'll show you around," he added, continuing down the aisle between the stalls.
Heero followed, more confused than ever. Was he dreaming? This couldn't be the same guy as earlier, but if he wasn't, he was definitely a good imposter, or twin. "You didn't have to do that," he murmured when he had caught up, setting Tama down. She ran ahead, looking through the cage bars at a grizzly bear.
"And you could've used the front entrance," Trowa replied shortly. Yeah, same guy.
"I didn't know you worked here," he said after a moment.
"My sister and I do. What's her name?" he asked after a moment.
"Huh? Oh, Tama," he replied. He hesitated again, running a hand through his hair. "Thanks," he muttered. He glanced up in time to see the corners of Trowa's mouth quirk up in what appeared to be an amused smile. "How long have you uh...lived here?"
"As far back as I remember." They moved on, passing bears, tigers, horses, elephants, side shows, and food vendors. Their conversation was small and short, each having issues with extended use of spoken words, until they reached the lion cages. Trowa smiled inwardly when he saw Heero's expression. "Not fond of lions?"
"I prefer dogs," he replied simply. "Careful Tama, not to close," he added, watching her press against the iron bars.
Trowa nodded a bit. "You take good care of her..."
"She's my little sister. I'm supposed to," Heero replied. Anyway, if he didn't, who would? He wasn't about to tell this stranger about not being able to afford a lot of things. About just barely skimming the top of poverty some months. He ran a hand through his hair again. "Shouldn't the show be starting soon?"
"Yeah, want me to get you some seats?"
Heero nodded, not looking at Trowa. He really didn't like charity, but he doubted there was another way to get in the big tent. Especially with the red-headed, knife-happy girl, and the old guy in the velvet hat on the look-out for them. "You don't have to.."
"No problem." He led them inside, finding them seats in the center, perfect viewing space. He turned, making his way down to the back stage area, side stepping the Manager. He didn't feel like explaining himself.
"Trowa!" He turned, looking at Catherine evenly. "Where in the world did you meet that one?" she demanded.
"School," he replied.
She sighed heavily, meeting his eyes. "Honestly Trowa, why can't you find some...better...friends to hang out with? I like Celia, really, I do. But she isn't any good for you, she's always in trouble. And look at this one!"
He ignored her, stretching instead, and heading out to the lions. "Trowa!"
"Forget it Catherine."
"Did she enjoy the show?" Trowa asked. He had found Heero soon after the closing act, changing out of most of the costume.
"Yeah," Heero replied. He shifted the girl in his arms, she was sound asleep. Had crashed about halfway through, during the dancing bears. "What she saw of it anyway," he said with a small smile.
The circus was still buzzing, people buying last minute snacks, children pushing to meet the performers, performers trying to set down, animals being caged and fed. Trowa was leading them away from it though, behind the cages and tents, to where the performers stayed in shiny, air-conditioned trailers.
"Did you enjoy it then?"
"It was entertaining," he conceded. In truth he had enjoyed it. Quite a lot. Especially the act with the wolves and in the final act, with Trowa and the knife-throwing girl. "She's your sister?" he asked suddenly.
"Who?" Trowa asked, glancing around.
"The one who threw the knives at you," Heero elaborated.
"Ah..." Trowa nodded, pulling out an ever-trustworthy cigarette and match, lighting it up. The little girl shifted, mumbling under her breath. He ignored the look that Heero sent him. He was used to it from Cathy. "That was Cathy, I sometimes think she enjoys that act a bit to much to be considered healthy."
"Especially for you."
Trowa glanced at Heero, shocked at first, feeling his body begin to tremble gently, then chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "Yeah, you could say that," he laughed. He smiled at Heero and Heero smiled back.
"I better get going, take her back before Mom gets home..." They were standing in front of one of the trailers, a small mailbox in front said "Bloom/Barton" on it and Heero tilted his head a bit. "Your trailer?" he asked.
Trowa glanced at the name and nodded. "My sister and I live here."
"Different names?"
Trowa looked at Heero sharply, taking in the young girl in his arms, the open curiosity in his eyes, his tilted head. He shrugged. "Yeah." He hesitated a moment, leaning against the steps leading into it. "I suppose I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Yeah...suppose so..." He turned to go, pausing and looking back over his shoulder at the older boy standing in the weak lamplight. "Uh...I know it's a bit late..." In truth he didn't, there wasn't a clock nearby and from the position he was holding his sister, he couldn't see the watch on his wrist.
Trowa tilted his head, waiting for Heero to go on, then shrugged when he didn't. "I can't read minds," he said.
Heero smiled a little, shifting his sister again. "Never mind," he said, shaking his head and looking down the dirt-and-gravel roads leading to the other trailers, cages, and tents. "I gotta get back so I'll see you at school?"
Trowa shrugged, pulling out a cigarette lighting it quickly. "I suppose." Heero eyed him, eyed the cigarette more specifically. Trowa rolled his eyes, flicking some of the ashes from the tip, ignoring another of Heero's looks. "See you," he said. Heero nodded, turning and walking down the main road to the gates.
Cathy swooped down on him later that night, entering the trailer and tossing her jacket onto the table. "Who was he?" she demanded, grabbing her pajamas from her bureau. Trowa shrugged, rolling his eyes and smushing the cigarette he was smoking into the kitchen sink, running water over it, then dropping it in the trash can. "Trowa!" she exclaimed, exaggerated from the bedroom.
She entered the kitchen a few minutes later, dressed in a tank and shorts, red hair pulled back into a low ponytail. He continued to ignore her, silently running a coin over his knuckles, between his fingers. She slammed her fist onto the table and he glanced up at her slowly. "Trowa, who is he?" she demanded, blue-grey eyes narrowed at him.
"A guy," he replied drily. He returned his attention to the coin.
"Trowa!" She sat down, exasperated, and rubbed her temples with pale fingers. "What's his name?"
"Heero."
"Heero? Heero what? Where'd you meet this one?"
Trowa glared at her. "Heero Yuy. Detention. Good night." He stood and walked to his room, closing the door and locking it quietly. Cathy walked over to the door, knocking on it.
"Come on Trowa, I'm just worried about you!" she called. She sighed when she received no answer, shaking her head and retreating to her own room after extinguishing the lights in the kitchen. Brothers.
Author's Note: Kinda long, but still shorter than my last one. It's seven pages this time. Again, please review and let me know your thoughts, this way I can try and work them in, or can develop the fic better, so that everyone's happy. Your opinion's count!
Starr