Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, sadly.

A/N: Ok, so I was able to write chapter one. Sorry about it kinda being short, but I just couldn't think of anything else. Well, here's chapter two. Enjoy!

Chapter 2

Quatre was jolted from his daydreams when the carriage came to a hault. Craning his neck, he could see a gate. Great, they were here. He wondered if it would be impolite to get out and run back down the road in the other direction. Who was he kidding! His mother would probably hunt him down and force him to mate with the guy. Well, maybe not force him to mate, but it'd be pretty damn close. He heard the gates groan as they opened and composed himself for what was to come.

On the other side of the gates, Trowa stood on the steps of the mansion's main entrance, watching the gates open. Once fully open, a carriage pulled up, two grey, dapple horses came through. The council men immediately rushed down the steps. As the door opened, Marhon was the first to greet the new guest. For god's sake, the boy wasn't even out the door and they were flocking him. Now he really felt bad for the boy. He began to descend the stairs, but stopped when the council men moved away and the figure stepped out from behind the door.

Standing in front of him had to be an angel. The boy was thin, but not to the point he was anorexic. He also had pure blonde hair that shone beautifully in the light and blue eyes as crystalline as the ocean. They boy's skin was also a healthy pale, like ivory. He had to admit, it was a better punishment than he thought. Trowa honestly wondered how the blonde hadn't gotten a mate yet.

Quatre was a little stunned at how handsome the boy in front of him was. He looked to be about the same age as himself. He had light, chestnut hair and his bangs fell over his one eye. He looked to be muscular, but not excessively so and his eyes were a light shade of green. Sure he's nice looking, Quatre thought, but there's still personality to check. He'd be formal around the council, but how he acted when they were by themselves would be a completely different story. At least that's how it went ninety-nine percent of the time. He politely excused himself from the council and went to greet his host as the brunette descended the stairs leading towards two large, oak doors. The brunette, much to Quatre's disbelief and slight unease, took his hand and gently placed his lips on the hand. Oh my god, the blond though, how cliché is that? None the less, Quatre smiled and greeted him.

"Thank you for being so kind as to host me, Lord Barton." Those sharp, green eyes looked at him and for some reason he thought he saw a flash of…uncertainty?

"It's a pleasure to be your host. Feel free to make yourself at home," the boy gestured towards the stairs and led Quatre away from outside and the council men before saying quietly, "And please call me Trowa. Formalities are so stifling." Quatre looked taken aback to some extent. He had expected the b-Trowa- to be more, well, for lack of a better word, stuffy. Yet, he had to keep his guard up. After all, as his mother said, men are after one thing. Yes, it wasn't always true, but after getting groped at so manysocials, you'd start believing it, too. However, it was only fair to play the game as well, wasn't it?

"Why, of course," he said making sure to flash one of his winning smiles, "As long as you call me Quatre. It'd only be fair, wouldn't it?"

"Naturally." A man of few words I see, Quatre contemplated. After several hallways and one or two stair cases, Trowa had led him to a pair of wooden doors. They were quite ornate, with such detail that made the vines carved into them almost seem real.

"This will be your room. I will send a servant to bring your luggage and call for you when dinner is prepared. Until then, feel free to roam anywhere you would like. My home is yours." Trowa bowed politely and walked away.

"'My home is yours'", Quatre mimicked to himself, "Yeah, like that's not implying anything." He opened the door to find quite a stunning room.

The bed was a four poster, canopy with red satin sheets and there was a large maroon wardrobe in the corner. Everything, in fact, had a warm color to it, whether it was orange, yellow, red, or shades in between. Maybe not his favorite color scheme, but it would do. Hearing a knock at the door, he opened it to find two servants carrying his luggage. His mother had said he packed too much, but by the way she talked, he'd be here awhile. Quatre was not going anywhere without being prepared for anything. He dismissed the servants and dragged his luggage inside to unpack.

He opened one of the luggage bags to find more than several pairs of loose-fitting, almost-too-feminine clothing. Ok, so maybe he shouldn't have agreed to let his mom send her "surprise" bag with him. She obviously wanted him to wear these, but in all honesty…he wasn't sure he wanted to. He absolutely was not going to wear anything that would make it look like he was welcoming the nearest man with open arms. No way in hell. Quatre closed the "mother bag" and began unpacking his other bags. He found that the wardrobe was bigger, if that was possible, than it looked. He was able to fit two of his three bags of clothing in it without worry. The rest of his luggage was non clothing items, such as books and other items to entertain himself with. With all his packing done, Quatre sat down to contemplate.

Trowa Barton. Although his greeting was exceptionally polite, he had seemed stiff; almost as if he was about as thrilled as Quatre was. If that information was true, it would indeed prove interesting. That would mean that he might be able to get out of this with little or no damage done, especially if his mother found out the other boy was opposed. She wanted someone to mate with him who would love him, not neglect him. She'd definitely bring him home…but he needed to slow down. He had no idea if the bo-Trowa opposed to it at all. For all Quatre knew, he could just be one quiet individual and completely agree with the arrangement. Damn, he hated his life…and that council. Yep, he hated them, too.

They seemed overly sweet, almost sickeningly so, when he arrived here. The swarmed him as soon as he got out with "it's and honor", "welcome to Barton Estate", and "We are at your service" about a million times a minute. As far as he was concerned, they were just a bunch of perverted old men. Hopefully he didn't have to meet with them on a regular basis during this trip.

Quatre stood up from the bed and walked to the balcony. All this worrying was getting to him. He decided that a stroll through the gardens he could see from his balcony would calm him down. After all, Trowa had said that he was supposed to make himself at home.

After a few wrong turns, Quatre had found himself at an outside entrance to the gardens. Unlike his courtyard gardens back home, the flowers and plants weren't tropical. The Barton clan's territory was mainly in the north and the estate, now his current residence, was right dead center. Quatre was only glad that it was early spring. It wasn't warm like mid spring, but it wasn't cold like the dead of winter. He was hoping he'd be able to stay to see the flowers bloom. He'd like to see what northern foliage was like; to see if the flowers differed all that much from what his were like back home. A cool wind blew lightly and Quatre pulled the coat he had brought, just in case, closer to keep him warm.

Quatre kept walking along the path until he heard something out of the ordinary. It wasn't a bird. No, birds were much shriller and had odd repetitive noises. It almost sounded like…music? The blonde turned his head to look around. Where was it coming from? He soon spotted a little dirt path between two bushes. He looked around to make sure no one saw and then slipped down the path. What he noticed was that although the path was hidden by underbrush, you could still see the estate. In fact, the path looked like it led right back to the large building. Suddenly it occurred to Quatre what that sound was. It was a flute!

Oh god, he thought, I must seem like such an idiot. What kind of retard follows musical flute sounds? Still, he was curious to know who out of a dull bunch of men and a too quiet suitor would play the flute? Quatre stopped abruptly when he heard the music stop. Shit! He continued quickly along the path only to come to another garden. What?

"Godammit!" he hissed quietly. Seeing no other option Quatre went inside the estate through this garden's entrance. As quickly as possible he slipped through hallways and past servants until he was able to find his bedroom door again. Quatre pushed it open, went in, and closed it. He was a little tired from roaming and the trip to this place and he desperately wanted a power nap. He stopped, looked at the bed then back to the door. Bed. Door. Bed. Door.

Quatre swiftly went over to the door and locked it. There was no way that anyone was going to disturb him. They wouldn't if they wanted a pleasant blonde at the dinner table.

A/N: Alrighty!yawns It's like one in the morning and I'm unusually tired now…oh well. I hope you people's enjoyed! If not, I'd like to hear why 'cause I'm always open for constructive criticism. yawn Well, g'night folks!