A/N: Thanks for the reviews – I'm trying to respond to individual ones, but this is a thank you for all the anonymous reviews – thanks for reading and especially thanks for taking the time to review.
Ready 3/?
Monday morning dawned bright and far too early.
Trowa had spent Sunday morning and afternoon with his sister shopping for school supplies and new clothes Catherine had apparently spent the hours while he was asleep Saturday going through his wardrobe and had decided that most of his clothes were close to falling apart. Which was true; and since Trowa convinced her to let him keep his jeans, he allowed her to pull him down the aisles at Target and Old Navy and attempt to dress him as she imagined her kid brother should dress.
That night, while Catherine was at work, Trowa once again ran errands for Wufei – driving once again to the trailer in the desert and then driving in the other direction, up 95 and back into the desert going in the other way.
He hadn't gotten home until nearly two in the morning and he was once again thankful that Catherine's job kept her out so late. And that she had friends that liked to go out for drinks afterwards.
But his alarm-clock didn't seem inclined to make his life easier. It went off loudly and rudely at five-thirty the next morning.
After several minutes of glaring Trowa finally surrendered and shut off the alarm. He rose from bed and walked over to his newly stocked closet and pulled out clothes at random.
Forty minutes later he was dozing on the bus as it made its way towards the school.
After much debate he had decided to park the Charger at the apartment complex across the street and not use it to drive to school. With his luck Heero would pay some kids to deface it. So he suffered through the ungodly bus ride and arrived at school just in time to be five minutes late to his first class – theatre.
Catherine had always wanted him to follow in the family footsteps, and Trowa knew that signing him up for this class was an attempt to steer him in that direction. And Trowa had told her yesterday that he would make an honest attempt at appreciating the class.
Which he did, for about twenty minutes.
He lasted through attendance, and through the irritating introductions and ridiculous game of creating an action to go with your name and then repeating it in a circle. But then, when the actual "class work" began, he gave up.
Trowa drew the line at spending half an hour pretending to be an ice-cream cone. The instructor's promise of attempting a table next week did nothing to help. In Trowa's mind this wasn't acting, this was a failed actor taking out his frustrations on unsuspecting high school students by forcing them to do completely ridiculous and pointless activities.
So as soon as his next class ended Trowa made his way to the front office and dropped the class. The secretary looked incredibly put out when he asked for the form, and it took nearly fifteen minutes for her to locate it. After than she interrogated him about why he wished to drop the class – forcing Trowa to concoct a lie about how afraid he was of public speaking. And then came the trauma of signing up for a new class. There were only three open classes during that period – gym, photography, and shop. Trowa's first request was photography, but the secretary insisted he take gym, and so they compromised on shop.
By the time his task was complete the lunch bell rang. Trowa was forced to skip the cafeteria line and instead cross the campus to the language building and his French class.
The class was small – there were only five students aside from Trowa and he remembered all of them from his history class last week. The syllabus was in French and all of the introductions were conducted in French. All of the students seemed to have an excellent vocabulary, and only one of them had a poor accent.
Trowa couldn't help but smirk, however, when he saw them furiously taking notes as the lecture started. French had never been a challenge to Trowa – having your parents and older sister born and raised in Quebec, and then growing up around French circus performers gave him an edge over the other students.
His next and last class of the day was Physics. He was a little disappointed that he hadn't seen Duo or Meilin all day. It would have been bizarre if they had all of the same classes, however, so he shrugged it off and headed for the science building.
He was surprised to see Duo in the class, and the braided boy looked none too pleased to see him. So Trowa made the most of the situation by taking the open seat at Duo's lab table, sitting down just as the teacher entered the room to begin the class.
While the course paperwork was being passed out Trowa chanced looking over at Duo. The other boy's eyes were focused on the course syllabus on the table, but one of his legs bounced nervously against the stool he sat on.
"Stop looking at me," Duo hissed after a moment.
Trowa smirked.
"Why?"
"Because it's distracting."
"Then stop looking so good. It's distracting."
Duo finally looked over at him, gracing him with a disgusted scowl.
"I can't believe you just said that."
"It got your attention."
"You are mentally ill, you know that?"
"What are you doing after school?"
"Homework."
Trowa gave him an arch look.
Duo sighed.
"Why?"
Trowa shrugged, feigning disinterest.
Duo shook his head.
"Fine. Whatever."
Duo turned away and focused on the teacher, who was now reading over the syllabus. As if the students were incapable of reading it on their own time.
After another few moments Duo's leg started to jump again as the boy grew bored with the lecture.
Trowa reached out a hand and put it over Duo's knee, squeezing lightly. Duo instantly stopped moving and turned wide eyes on Trowa, who quickly withdrew his hand and arched an eyebrow at Duo.
"You are –"
"Irresistible?"
"A pain in the ass." Duo sighed. "What did you want to do after school?"
Trowa took a moment to stomp on his pride before he launched into his prepared speech.
"I need your help. Meilin told me you used to race – and I need…I need a few pointers."
Now Duo arched an eyebrow.
"You want me to teach you how to street race?" His voice was incredulous. "I thought you already knew everything."
"No – I know what I want. And I also know what I need. I need your help."
Duo looked back to the front of the classroom, seeming to consider.
Ten minutes later he turned back to Trowa.
"Okay. I'll help you."
After they were dismissed Trowa followed Duo to the student lot. He kept his eyes out for Duo's car – imagining it to be some black vehicle of supreme speed, but he was disappointed when Duo came to a stop beside a purple Volkswagon Beatle.
Duo caught his look of disdain and chuckled.
"Hey, this girl's pretty fast."
"I guess." Trowa was quickly re-evaluating his opinion of Duo.
"'Course, I wouldn't be caught dead DRIVING one," Duo continued, but his words were directed to someone behind Trowa.
"Ha ha. If it's so painful for your delicate sensibilities then maybe you want to walk home, hm?" Trowa turned to see Hilde approaching. She smiled at him. "Hiya. I guess Duo didn't manage to scare you off, then?"
"Hardly," Duo muttered and Trowa shot him a smirk.
"Mind giving us a ride to the garage, Hil, love of my life?"
"Oh, whatever. Sure. Hop in." Hilde unlocked the car and Duo graciously allowed Trowa the front seat. From the way he slouched down in the back, however, Trowa was convinced that he was sitting in the front less for his own sake and more for Duo's pride.
"So, you survived the weekend," Hilde commented after pulling out of the lot and turning on the radio to the local alternative rock station.
"Hm."
"Duo told me that –"
"So, ANYWAY," Duo loudly interrupted from the back, earning a grin from Hilde, "word around the campfire is that you've got a few pieces coming up next week in a show and didn't think to tell your best friend."
Hilde pretended to concentrate on driving.
"So, when are we going to see them?"
"Oh, they're crap, Duo. Just some lame sculptures. Nothing really."
"Uh-huh."
Hilde groaned.
"Fine. We can go next Wednesday."
"Excellent. Yet another excuse to avoid filling out college applications."
"Duo! Early admission –"
"Yeah, yeah. I know. I'll have them done before October, don't worry."
Trowa was amused by their banter and leaned back in his seat, enjoying the ride and conversation between them. It was a few minutes before either seemed to remember that Trowa was even in the car with them.
"So, how did you like your first event?" Hilde asked, voice lowered conspiratorially.
Trowa shrugged. "I survived."
From the backseat Duo snorted a laugh.
"I hear that you've also made a new friend."
"Oh yeah. I expect you and Heero will be REAL chummy now."
"Now that what?" Trowa turned back and shot Duo a challenging look. Duo's face flushed and Trowa turned back to the front, a satisfied smirk on his face.
Hilde looked in the rearview mirror at Duo, and then over at Trowa. She shook her head.
"I don't even want to know. I'm just the dorky art student that gets to cart your ass around, Duo."
"And I love ya for it." Duo leaned forward and hugged Hilde from behind the seat. "Thanks for the lift." He was already opening the car door even though they had barely stopped.
Trowa nodded his thanks to Hilde and followed Duo from the car.
Duo walked around the side of the garage, skirting the open front as though he was afraid to be spotted.
Trowa followed him, hands shoved in his pockets and prepared himself to meet Duo's car.
It was a black, gleaming machine of speed. Trowa immediately recognized the classic lines, and even appreciated the thin, silver-white racing stripes down the sides and top of the car. He hummed in appreciation.
"Not bad, eh?" Duo asked, his pride evident. "You know, all those Japanese cars are sweet – but nothing beats good old American muscle, ya know?"
Duo ran a hand over the hood of the Mustang, his eyes gleaming.
"Should I leave you two alone?" Trowa asked, teasing slightly.
Duo's face reddened slightly.
"Naw. C'mon and hop in."
Trowa climbed into the passenger side and took a moment to appreciate the interior: black leather, sunroof, incredibly expensive stereo.
"I'm almost afraid to ask how fast you've got her going."
"Well, once we get out into the desert a ways I'll show you," Duo promised.
Three hours later they drove back towards Las Vegas.
Duo was grinning slightly, and even Trowa was fighting back the urge to smile. It had been a good time, watching Duo put the Mustang through its paces and breaking all sorts of traffic laws. Fortunately they had been forty-five minutes away from any of the major roads, and hadn't even encountered another vehicle until they started to head back.
"Why don't you race anymore?" Trowa asked after a while.
Duo looked away from the road for a moment at Trowa, as if judging his question.
It was a while before Duo answered.
"There's no point in it anymore."
"Was there ever?"
Duo shot him a look.
"Hey, Mr.-All-I-Want-To-Do-Is-Race, don't even try to start judging."
"I'm not judging. I'm being incisive."
"Yeah, you're being an asshole. No, there wasn't ever a point to it. You know that – I mean, what the fuck, why do YOU race?"
Trowa was usually brutally honest with himself. And while he prided himself on that, he was also aware that being honest with others was often difficult, if not impossible, when it involved revealing information about himself.
So he shrugged off the question, earning a derisive snort from Duo.
"Right. That's what I thought."
The ride back continued in silence for some time until Duo spoke again.
"You hungry?" He asked.
"Yeah."
"Pizza?"
"Is it good?"
"Best pizza outside of NYC – or so I've been told."
"I'll be the judge of that," Trowa said, but he looked over at Duo and saw that, while he hadn't been forgiven he had at least been granted a reprieve.
A week later they were returning from a similar training session.
"Well, hope I've been able to give you a few pointers." Duo said as he pulled into Trowa's apartment complex.
"I appreciate it." Trowa paused, awkward for a moment. "Want to come up for a while?"
There had been tension between them at school, and, while they didn't say much to each other, it was only when Duo was showing him how to drive that they had managed to relax more in each other's company. Meilin had run interference – making snide remarks and drawing them into conversations, but she seemed to be leaving things as they were. For his part, Trowa found it hard to forget what had transpired between them – the frantic kiss or the harsh words they had exchanged but Trowa hadn't tried to press Duo for anything more – he actually was learning from Duo; besides that, between running packages for Wufei and keeping up with schoolwork it was proving impossible to do more than that and get a few hours of sleep. Trying to chase down Duo – while a worthwhile pursuit – simply took too much out of him.
Duo turned to him, one eyebrow arched.
"And do what?"
"Homework?" Trowa suggested with a slight smirk.
Duo looked at him, considering.
"Sure," he said after a while and pulled the car into a parking spot.
Trowa let Duo walk into the apartment ahead of him and turned on the lights after locking the door.
"Nice place," Duo said, surveying the moderately expensive furniture.
"My sister does pretty well," Trowa said, leaning against the wall and watching Duo.
Duo looked at the posters on the walls – all from the various shows that Catherine had been in over the years.
"She a big Cirque fan?"
"She works for them."
"Oh cool. What does she do?"
"She's a performer."
Duo's eyes widened and he turned back to Trowa.
"No way? That's really cool. What show is she in now?"
"Ka. Over at MGM."
"Yeah – wow."
Trowa shrugged.
"She enjoys it. Want something to drink?"
"Um, yeah. Have any orange juice?"
"Should." Trowa left Duo in the living room and went into the kitchen to fetch them drinks.
When he returned Duo was lounging on the couch. He had removed his shoes and had one knee pulled up to his chest, the other leg resting under him.
Trowa passed him one of the glasses and then sat down beside Duo on the couch, keeping a comfortable distance between them.
After a few minutes spent drinking the juice and staring at anything but each other Duo sighed and put down the glass.
"Okay. Seriously, what's your deal?"
Trowa arched an eyebrow and set down his own glass.
"My deal?"
"Yeah. What's with you and this – you want to race, but you're a really talented artist, and you're smart, and why the hell are you interested in me and what's with this bad ass attitude when you've got all this and an awesome sister? Huh? I mean, it's like you're TRYING to throw it away or something."
Duo's incredibly accurate insight rocked Trowa. He hadn't realized he was that obvious to someone who was almost a complete stranger.
"I mean, what are you hoping will happen? Do you want to get sent to prison or something? Cuz, trust me, you wouldn't last long. Are you trying to break your sister's heart or what? You really – "
"How much of this is aimed at me and how much at your brother?"
Duo's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"I guess you and Meilin have gotten pretty friendly, huh?'
"She told me some stuff about you," Trowa conceded.
"Yeah, well, don't change the subject. Look – are you interested in me?"
Trowa studied Duo's face, trying to figure out where this was going.
"Yes, it's sort of obvious, isn't it?"
"Then, look, I've already got enough silent, dangerous types in my life. You want to try to… have something – then you're going to have to talk. If you aren't interested in that, then fine." Duo's eyes were angry and challenging.
Trowa was never one to back down from a challenge.
"Okay. I'll talk."
"Then back to my first question – what the hell are you doing?"
"You already said it – I'm trying to throw away my life."
"Why? When you've actually got one?"
"I have the appearance of one, Duo. Yeah, I live with my 'awesome' sister now, but for the last ten years I've lived in foster homes and group homes on the other side of the country. I've spent the last ten years going to bed every night, hoping I would wake up and I'd be back with her. And now that I finally am – it's the same as everywhere else I've ever been. She's never here, we never talk, which I get is mostly my fault, but we don't have anything to talk about. Yeah, I like to race – and back in the city I was pretty damn good at it, but then, we didn't have the entire desert to race across. Yeah, I'm smart – but it doesn't matter because as much as I've moved around my grades and my school records are never going to get me into a decent college. And yeah, I can draw – again, it doesn't matter." Trowa drew a deep, angry breath. "Satisfied?"
"Um." Duo was speechless. "I didn't mean you had to tell me everything at one time," he joked weakly. Trowa glared.
"Okay, sorry. I just didn't think you would actually talk – not that much."
"Oh ye of so little faith."
"Yeah. Um. So – you sort of left out one part," Duo said, a daring grin on his face.
Trowa arched an eyebrow in challenge.
"You didn't say why you were interested in me."
"Apart from the fact that I'm somehow able to talk to you, you're attractive, and you… you challenge me."
"I challenge you?"
Trowa nodded once in agreement.
"Huh." Duo grinned. "I like that."
"I'm so glad," Trowa said dryly.
Duo cocked his head to one said, considering.
"You just told me a lot, you know."
"Yeah."
"You ever told anyone that stuff?"
"No."
"Good thing I got a recording then, this will make excellent blackmail."
Trowa scowled.
"So when are you going to stop using your humor as a shield?"
"Ah, well, I guess now would be a good time since it isn't working anymore." Duo offered a self-deprecating grin.
"So what's your deal? What are you doing hanging around Wufei and Heero? What are you doing with Heero?"
Now it was Duo who shrugged.
"Just the people I grew up with. Wufei and my brother knew each other – and I tagged along, and then Meilin did. And then Solo got arrested and Heero showed up at one of the parties and we… just hooked up, I guess."
"So, what do you two do?"
Duo shook his head, smirking slightly.
"We fuck, mostly. And I hang with him at races."
"And that's it?"
"What, you think, we're gonna go and have dinner and a movie every Friday? Heero's the future head of the NSA or something – he's not gonna be caught dead with a homo."
Trowa frowned.
"So you don't date? Or go to parties?"
"Um… no. That's what Relena's for."
"So you're for the illicit stuff."
"Yeah, guess I am."
"And you're okay with that?"
Duo suddenly stood and glared down at Trowa.
"Don't even start with that crap. I'm not some fucking victim here – accepting handouts."
"Fooled me," Trowa drawled, leaning back against the couch and stretching out his legs.
"Shut up. You know shit about me – or him. You start to follow Chang around like some freakin' go-fer and then you tell ME that I'm accepting handouts?"
"I prefer the term 'personal assistant.' Chang and I have a business relationship – I'm only his slave for as long as I need to be to pay him back for the car. You – you're getting nothing out of this."
Duo held up a finger and shook it.
"There I disagree. I get some pretty awesome sex out of it – and, you know, Heero's always had my back. Always will. So if all I get is racer-groupie and fuck-buddy, I'll take it."
Trowa blew out a breath in frustration. Reasoning with Duo was like boxing with a bear – you got nowhere and after a while you started to lose pretty badly.
"Okay. Fine. So you two aren't dating."
Duo looked exasperated.
"No. We aren't dating."
"Good. Then I'll pick you up Friday at seven."
"Huh?"
Trowa smirked at Duo's confused expression.
"Dinner and a movie," he explained.
"Um…"
"What? You force me to spill my guts and then you won't even go out on a date with me?"
Duo rolled his eyes.
"Seriously, you're fucked in head."
"Like you can talk." Trowa stood up now as well and took a few steps towards Duo.
"Well?"
"Well what?"
"Are we on for our date?"
Duo groaned in frustration and then threw his hands up.
"Sure. Why not?"
Trowa closed then distance between them and kissed Duo. The shorter boy leaned into the kiss, one hand snaking up to grab the back of Trowa's neck. Trowa took the opportunity to wrap his arms around Duo's waist. The kiss continued and Duo's other hand trailed down Trowa's back to his ass, squeezing lightly. Trowa groaned and maneuvered them towards the couch, backing Duo down onto the cushions and covering the other boy's body with his own. Duo's hands were still on his ass, but were moving back up towards the waistband of his jeans. One hand eased upwards, under his shirt and Trowa groaned at the feel of Duo's hand on his back.
Meanwhile Trowa had one hand between them, steadily undoing the buttons on Duo's shirt and had finally managed to push it open, revealing a gray muscle shirt beneath it. He pulled away from Duo, who instinctively sat up, and Trowa pulled both shirts off of the other boy. Trowa got to enjoy looking over Duo's naked torso for only a moment before Duo was forcing his arms up and pulling off his own t-shirt. Hungrily they stared at each other. And then Duo was pushing Trowa towards the other end of the couch, straddling him and covering his mouth in hot, demanding kisses. Their hands tangled together as they reached for each other's bodies, the feeling of smooth, hard skin rubbing together driving them crazy.
And then Trowa's phone started to ring, vibrating in his pants pocket and, aside from being immensely annoying, creating a uniquely disturbing sensation.
"God damnit," Trowa cursed, pushing Duo away to grab for the phone, his first thought to turn it off. And then he saw the caller ID. It was Wufei.
Duo noticed his expression and sat back, still straddling Trowa but putting space between them.
"Yeah?" He answered.
"Busy?" Wufei's voice was amused.
Trowa refused to be baited.
"I've got work for you."
Trowa looked at the clock on the wall. It was already past nine – which meant he would probably be done with "work" by two. Again.
"Wufei –"
"Go to the trailer. You remember the address. They've got a package that you need to deliver to Treize."
"And then?"
"And then we've got a race."
"Tonight?"
"Don't tell me you've already lost your nerve."
Trowa rolled his eyes at the mockery in Wufei's voice.
"Fine. I'm leaving now."
"Good. Same place as last time."
"Right." Trowa thumbed the phone off and stared up at Duo. Indigo eyes were no longer hazy, but instead had sharpened with interest at what he had heard.
"There's a race tonight?" Duo shrugged.
"Nobody told me yet."
"Well?"
"What?"
"You going?"
Duo smirked. "I think I'd rather stay here with you – but I figure that you're on your way out, right?"
Trowa trailed one hand across Duo's bare stomach, tracing the muscles underneath the tanned flesh. Duo leaned back and moaned softly at the touch. And then he was gone in one smooth movement, standing beside the couch and pulling on his shirts.
After a moment Trowa followed his lead, sitting up and pulling back on his t-shirt.
"Guess I'll see you there?" Trowa said as they left the apartment.
Duo gave him a smirk.
"Wouldn't miss it. This is my chance to see if you can survive, huh?"
"And win." Trowa kissed him one more time before jogging across the street to find the Charger.
Trowa made it out to the trailer in record time. The guys greeted him and forced a soda and turkey sandwich out of the door with him, so Trowa tried to concentrate on eating while he drove instead of the fact that he was about to go through a National Guard checkpoint with two kilos of cocaine tucked under his seat. Coming out to the trailer was always easy – the Guard only checked people coming IN to Vegas through the Hoover Dam, which, unfortunately, Trowa now was.
The line was short this late at night, and all too soon Trowa was pulling to a stop in front of the uniforms, a flashlight blinding him.
"Evening," he said.
"License and registration, please."
Trowa rooted in the glove compartment for the registration – Wufei had thoughtfully put the Charger in his name on the fake registration, with the understanding that if Trowa tried anything he'd be killed. Talk about job security, Trowa thought to himself as the Guard looked over the papers.
He took a considerable time going through the two pieces of paper, and then shined the flashlight into the empty backseat. At last he passed the papers and his license back.
"Thanks, have a good night."
The Guard grunted in response and waved him onward with the flashlight. Trowa gratefully drove away into the night, and it wasn't until he had crossed the bridge over the dam that he was able to breathe easier.
Thirty minutes later he was making his way towards the back of Treize's favorite casino, the cocaine stuffed into his coat pocket and his fake ID at the ready. It would be just his luck to get arrested here after making it through the checkpoint.
He was ushered into the back room where Treize, Zechs, and the still unknown woman sat. Heero was with them. Again. Almost without fail, whenever Trowa picked up a package, Heero was there to give him shit.
"Ah, Trowa…" Treize reached across the table for the bundles of cocaine, surprising Trowa. Usually Une handled the goods while Treize just sat back and watched, vaguely amused by all that occurred around him.
He nodded a greeting to the man and passed over the plastic wrapped powder, anxious to have it out of his hands.
"So. How have you enjoyed your first taste as Chang's runner?"
Treize didn't seem particularly interested in Trowa's answer, but the fact that he asked the question at all meant something: he wasn't really one for idle chit-chat.
"It pays," he hedged. Which wasn't exactly a lie. Chang wasn't paying him – but his mother was, whenever she called he ran the occasional, late night flower deliveries and was allowed to keep the tips, as well as an hourly salary. It wasn't much, but it was something. And Chang hadn't had him killed – it was a bad position to be in, but he'd been in worse. Well, he hadn't… but he knew it could all get rapidly, and considerably, worse.
"Hm. Enough to buy him a new Skyline?" The hint of amusement had been replaced by a patronizing smirk.
"We'll see," Trowa responded, wondering where the hell this was going.
"Good night, Trowa." Treize waved a hand in dismissal and Trowa took the cue. He turned to leave, and Heero took that as HIS cue. He rose to follow Trowa.
Trowa was getting tired of this passive-aggressive bullshit from him. At school Heero would glare at him – and at Duo – and then whenever they met at the casino Heero was anxious to rub it in Trowa's face that Duo was still with him, not Trowa. And then he heaped on whatever insults he had spent his free-time thinking up.
Predictably, as soon as they were outside Heero shoved him up against the hood of the Charger.
"Yes?" Trowa turned a sardonic look on the shorter, though stronger, boy.
"When are you going to learn, Barton?"
Trowa didn't know what he was referring to – and he wasn't going to ask a leading question to give Heero satisfaction, so he just raised his eyebrows and adopted a look of supreme indifference.
"I hope you enjoy the race tonight – maybe next time I'll give you the chance to humiliate yourself again."
Which meant nothing to Trowa outside the fact that Heero wasn't coming and that Duo had obviously called Heero. Which frustrated Trowa to no end.
"Then I'll try my hardest to stay alive tonight," Trowa muttered. He shoved Heero out of the way and opened the driver door to the Charger, hoping it would catch Heero in the side. It didn't – the other boy quickly and smoothly stepped out of the way.
"You're playing with fire," Wufei warned that night after watching Trowa smirk at Duo across the race line.
"Don't know what you're talking about."
"He belongs to Yuy," Wufei explained.
"He doesn't belong to anyone. Besides, we've got a date this Friday."
"A date?"
"Dinner and a movie."
"Barton, you need to have your head examined. But first, you need to beat this kid. This race is for slips and the kid's got a Spider."
"Just the two of us?"
"No, it's four in – don't know who the other two are yet."
Trowa nodded and approached the race-line.
The "kid" was a blonde guy who looked barely old enough to be in high-school, much less have his driver's license.
Trowa saluted him with two fingers in greeting as he walked past.
"Hi!" The kid said, too enthusiastic. Trowa stopped and walked back to him.
"How old are you?"
"Seventeen."
Trowa arched an eyebrow.
"I am – do you want to see my license?"
"No." Trowa started to head off again.
"It's my first race," the blonde volunteered, and Trowa walked back again.
"Let me ask you something, kid, how –"
"Quatre, my name is Quatre."
Trowa waved a hand in dismissal.
"Sure. Quatre, how much money do you have, exactly?"
"On me?"
"No, to spend on your next car after you lose this one tonight."
Quatre's face flushed.
"Hey! I know I'm inexperienced but that doesn't mean I can't –"
"You're way out of your league. Most of –"
"Tro, good to see you making new friends," Duo called out as he approached the two.
The blonde looked grateful for the interruption and Trowa turned to glare at the braided man.
"Duo Maxwell," he said, holding out his hand.
"Quatre Winner," the blonde said, shaking Duo's hand.
Duo nodded.
"He introduced himself yet?" He jerked a finger in Trowa's direction.
"No."
"Trowa Barton. He's a general bad-ass. Although, I'll let you in on a secret – "
"Duo."
"A week ago, he totaled some guy's car in his first race – couldn't even beat a grandma on a tricycle, he drove so badly."
Trowa growled, then pushed Duo ahead of him.
"We gotta go."
"You know," Duo mussed. "I think that kid might have a chance of beating… well, maybe he could beat Heero's kid sister."
"He has a kid sister?"
"Um… I think his Mom's pregnant again. I dunno," Duo offered a shrug and turned a grin to Trowa.
"So, gonna actually finish this race?"
Trowa snorted in disgust, taking in his opponents, sparing the blonde kid yet another look.
"If I don't it'll be because I had a heart attack behind the wheel."
"Hm." Duo leaned close, his lips near Trowa's ear. "Well, just remember – put your foot on the gas when you want to go."
"Thank you for that lesson, oh master of wisdom."
Duo chuckled.
"Alright, let's see what you've learned, hm?"
Duo sauntered back to the sidelines and Trowa got into his car, feeling a thrill of excitement at the chance to race. At the chance to win.
Meilin had decided to do the honors tonight, standing on the right side of the road and holding her arms high.
"Ready," she called out, a wicked grin on her face.
Trowa placed one hand on the wheel, the other on the gear shift.
"G –"
The roar of sirens overrode her voice. Trowa looked immediately into his rearview mirror and saw the flash of red and white lights.
"Shit!"
A/N: Yeah, it's a cliffhanger, and I'm really sorry – but I'll post the next part soon. In the meantime, comfort yourselves with eggnog and… other holiday things.
