Many thanks to KS for editing, and to everyone who has been reviewing.

Wicked:

Quatre slowly spiralled to consciousness wrapped in the firm embrace of Trowa's body. Fingers were tracing slow patterns on his back. It felt amazing.

Please, please let it not be time to get up.

Trowa liked to sleep with his curtains open. Quatre cracked one eyelid open. It wasn't daylight yet, quite, but it definitely wasn't dark.

He didn't want to wake up, or for Trowa to stop holding him like that. It was safe here; a place where he didn't have to be Quatre Raberba Winner. He cuddled a little bit closer, burrowing into Trowa's shoulder.

The other man chuckled, tightening both arms around Quatre's waist. 'I've no intention of letting you go anytime soon. Don't worry. How did you sleep?'

'Like a crocodile,' Quatre said promptly. 'Um, like a log, I mean.'

Trowa laughed again, a nice, rumbly sound in his chest. 'Is that what you say on L4; sleep like a crocodile? Do they really sleep all that soundly?'

'I don't know. I can't imagine anyone ever wanting to get close enough to check, can you?'

'Good point,' Trowa mumbled. 'Mmm. Nice to wake up to a naked blond sprawled all over me. I could get used to this.'

'I've never actually slept naked before,' the blond sprawled over him murmured dreamily, and Trowa's eyes widened.

'What do you wear then?'

'Pyjamas. Sleeping in the nude is considered indecent on L4.'

Trowa snorted, running one hand down Quatre's back. 'What's the point in getting dressed up to go to bed? If you ever wear pyjamas into my bed, I'll rip them off you.'

'I might like that,' Quatre teased.

'Kinky little thing, aren't you? Do you have some sort of slaveboy fantasy going on? 'Cause I kind of like that. Let's see, I can just imagine you in loose silk pants, those baggy ones and a skimpy little tank top.' His eyes sparkled and suddenly Quatre was the one lying on the bottom, with a very hard, hot male body covering him.

He tried to pull away as Trowa's lips fastened on to his neck and began to suck and got a light swat for his trouble. Oh, God, he was going to have to face his sister covered in love bites. She'd kill him. Well, no, Rashid would stop her actually committing violence, but she'd yell at him and threaten to tell their father, and tell him it was a good thing that their mother was dead, so she didn't have to see her son behaving like this.

'Oh, yeah,' Trowa's mouth began a leisurely, luxurious journey downwards, scraping his teeth against Quatre's collarbone and scattering nips and kisses on the way, apparently caught up in his little harem fantasy.

'A silky little top that I'd have to rip off so I could see you properly. Mmm. See these properly.' That hot, moist, miraculous mouth settled around one nipple, tongue swirling into a stiff little peak, aching for more of those touches. Quatre arched upwards, his whole body a taut arc of desire and Trowa lifted his head slightly to laugh at him, a puff of warm breath blowing across Quatre's skin. 'I love that you're so sensitive there. I bet I could get you to come if I played with these for long enough.'

A finger and thumb found the other, neglected bud and plucked gently as his mouth bit down on sensitive skin. 'Like turning on a switch,' he marvelled. 'OK, memo to Barton; Cat gets really, really turned on by this sort of thing. Of course,' he added, eyes dancing with mischief, 'Cat gets pretty turned on by lots of stuff.'

'Trowa!' OK, this had gone on for quite long enough. Teasing was fine, in its place, but this was too much. 'Please!'

'So, you ready to let me have my wicked way with you now?'

'Um, define 'way',' Quatre hedged. He wanted to. Really. But first he would have to tell Trowa who he really was. This silly little deception had gone on for long enough. He should have just told Trowa the night before, and hoped for the best.

'I'll define 'wicked' first. Here, let me give you give a physical demo.' Trowa's eyes sparked emerald fire, and flipped Quatre around so his mouth, that perfect, beautiful mouth was just an inch or so away from Quatre's erection. Which effectively left Quatre's lips in close proximity that part of Trowa's own anatomy. One green eye winked. 'Feel free to reciprocate if you want.'

Ah. They'd had oral sex the night before; several times. Quatre's throat still ached, just a little, from deep-throating the other man. He hadn't had a huge amount of practice at that particular skill, and none at all lately. And Trowa was big. They hadn't done it together, though. He'd never done that with anyone.

It was too much, almost. Trowa's mouth on him, doing wicked, wondrous, utterly wanton things at the time that Trowa's sex was thrusting into his mouth, and Trowa was moaning with sheer pleasure.

'Yeah, that would be pretty much what I meant by wicked,' Trowa muttered later. Quite a bit later. Quatre was still floating. It was all so very intense with Trowa. He'd let the other man come in his mouth. He'd let Trowa lick him clean, and then kiss his mouth so Quatre could taste himself. He could spend the rest of his life in this bed, with this man, and die happy.

He groaned as Trowa kissed his mouth and then pulled away. 'Please don't get up. Can't we stay a little while longer? Please.'

'Sorry, Cat. Some of us have work to do. Listen, I've got to run some errands this morning. You can come with me, or I could drop you by your hotel to get your stuff.' He grinned. 'Not that I object to you not having any clothes but I thought we might go out somewhere for the day. There's a really great National Park I could take you to, or we could go to the beach. What d'you fancy?'

'Um. I don't know. They both sound wonderful.'

'Demanding and indecisive. That's a bad combination. I suppose we might have time to do both if we get up now. Where's your hotel? I can drop you there to pack up your things, and then collect you on my way home.'

Quatre considered lying and then decided against it. 'I'm staying at the Sheraton. It's down by the harbour.'

Trowa whistled. 'How much is that costing you?'

'The reservation was made months ago, so I got a really good deal. Apparently, they slash the prices in low season.' Of course, they presumably slashed the prices all the time for corporate clients who wanted to reserve an entire floor.

The taller man nodded, bending down to pick up his jeans and giving Quatre a very nice view.

'Are they really important, these errands of yours? Are you sure I can't entice you back to bed?'

'I've created a monster,' Trowa commented, pulling on his sweater. 'Sorry, Cat. It's not that I don't want to, but I've got a couple of appointments lined up. Now, come on. Move that cute ass of yours.'

Quatre obeyed, grinning. This hadn't quite been part of the plan but that was all right. He could let Iria and Rashid and the others see he was fine, and tell his sister that things had changed slightly. He wasn't going to marry Relena. And he was planning to steal a little more time to be with Trowa.

She was going to kill him.

'God, it's an eyesore, isn't it?' Trowa remarked an hour later, pulling up outside the hotel's main entrance. 'You know, this is all supposed to be a historic district with listed buildings and then they got planning permission to build that monster. What's it like inside?'

'It's OK.' Strange; he'd spent four days there, and had no idea what colour his room was decorated in, or what the furnishings were like. After one night in Trowa's bedroom, he knew the ceiling had a crack shaped like Brazil, that one of the floorboards creaked slightly when you stood on it, and there was a cat hammock over the radiator.

'Now, do you want me to pick you up or catch a cab back home? I'm going to be a couple of hours though, so I could just meet you back at Wish if you'd rather not hang around here.'

Quatre nodded. 'That's fine. I'll call a taxi and I'll see you at the shop.' He'd turned away, heading for the imposing entrance when Trowa called him back.

'You'd better take this for the cab.' He was holding out a small sheaf of notes. No one, ever, had offered Quatre actual money before. 'I know you said you had an extra credit card in your room, but take this just in case, OK?' He grinned. 'I want to make sure you're not going to head off on foot again.'

Quatre waved him out of sight, inordinately grateful that there hadn't been a deputation of Maguanacs to meet him, and grinning at his reflection as he walked toward the doors. He looked so utterly unlike himself.

He was wearing the jeans he'd bought to go clubbing, and Trowa had lent him a light sweater. It was too big, of course, but it did a good job of hiding just how tight those jeans were, and the high collar concealed the scattering of love bites on his neck and throat. He' d messed up his hair as well, using some of Trowa's gel, and trying to copy the way Brian had done it.

He looked…almost cool.

The uniformed doorman apparently didn't think so however, casting a disparaging eye over the baggy sweater and messy hair.

'Excuse me. Sir.' The man hesitated slightly over the honorific. 'This entrance is for guests only.'

'Mister Winner is a guest!' Rashid al-Maguanac glared at the man who had the temerity to insult his employer, ushering Quatre inside, dark eyes widening as he saw his face.

'Master Quatre! Did that…that man do this to you?'

'No!' Quatre snapped. Oops. He'd almost forgotten the bruising; it had faded significantly since the first night, and he was more or less used to it now. 'He rescued me from the people who did this to me.'

The big man groaned. 'I promised your mother, before you were born, that I would protect you. We all took an oath. And we have failed.'

'You haven't failed anyone,' Quatre said, more gently. 'It was my own fault. I was stupid and I got into a bad situation. It's not your fault. And it all worked out; I got to meet Trowa.'

Rashid sniffed; a sound that would have been more appropriate for a maiden aunt. 'Auda ran a check on this man, Barton.'

'He had no right to do that.' Quatre knew the protest was forlorn even as he spoke; of course they would have checked Trowa. The Maguanacs vetted everyone he came into contact with. He hadn't really been aware of that until he was thirteen or so, when he'd been forbidden to spend time with a friend whose older sister was living with her boyfriend. 'What did you discover; that he's a serial kidnapper?'

'He has no criminal record,' Rashid said grudgingly. 'Which means nothing. Master Heero would say he has simply never been caught and convicted.'

Quatre rolled his eyes. 'Or possibly that he's never done anything wrong. Isn't that a possibility too?'

'His business is barely breaking even, he has hardly any savings, he owes a considerable sum of money to the bank.'

'So? The same could be said for ninety five per cent of the world's population. Trowa's fine, Rashid. I really like him.'

The big man nodded, not looking overly ecstatic about it. 'Your sister is furious. Not just with you; with me and my brothers also. She wanted us to bring you back here as soon as we found out where you were.'

'And you refused? Truly?' Quatre suddenly flung his arms around his bodyguard, the man he regarded as a second father. Rashid had never countermanded any of Iria's orders before, that he knew of. 'Thank you!'

Rashid patted his shoulder stiffly. 'You ordered us to leave you alone; you are old enough to know your own mind by now. A man needs to be able to find his own path. I can't approve of you taking off with this man, this stranger, but we all owe him a debt for helping you. Miss Iria, too.'

'I doubt she'll see it that way,' Quatre sighed.

She didn't, of course.

'Quatre! Your face!' Iria gaped at him as if he were a stranger when Rashid ushered him into her room. 'What are you doing in those awful clothes? And your hair! I hope nobody saw you looking like this.' Then she rushed forward and hugged him. 'I was so worried, little brother. You know how much I hate fighting with you. We're family; we need to stick together.'

She kissed him gently on the cheek. 'Your poor face. It's all right, my dear. I'm not going to be angry. We both said silly things last night, didn't we? But you're back now, and we can just forget it all.'

'I can't,' Quatre said quietly. 'I'm sorry I upset you, Iria. You know I don't like doing that. But there are some things we need to talk about. Firstly, I'm not back. I came to get some things, and to reassure you and Rashid and the others that I'm fine. I still mean what I told you on the 'phone. I need to take some time to myself and decide exactly what I want to do with my life.'

'You don't have that luxury. None of us do.' Iria's smiling mask slipped away instantly. 'Your life has already been planned, Quatre. You've always known that.'

'No. I am sorry, I truly am, but plans change. I'm not going to marry Relena.' There; he'd said it. The sky didn't fall in, although his sister did raise his eyes upwards. Just to check.

'Don't be silly. It's all arranged. We've talked about this, Quatre.'

'Actually, no.' Quatre sat down on one of the spindly little chairs, comparing it unfavourably to Trowa's deliciously overstuffed sofa. 'You talked about it.'

'Someone needs to make these decisions,' Iria hissed. 'Relena is a good, dutiful daughter, who knows how to fulfil her responsibilities. Unlike some. Have you thought about how this will hurt Father? You know perfectly well the doctors said he can't be upset or shocked. How do you think he will feel when he hears about you disobeying him like this?'

'He never ordered me to marry Relena. He refused an arranged marriage himself; he let the other girls choose their own husbands. As for the rest of it, don't tell him. You're always saying how worried you are for his health, but it never stops you running to him if I do any little thing wrong.'

'He's the head of our family. He has a right to know,' Iria spat. 'He has a right to know if his only son is planning to ignore our family's honour and take up with some pervert just because he's having a temper tantrum over not getting his own way in something.'

'Don't you dare talk about Trowa like that!' Quatre swallowed, suddenly realised he'd shouted at his sister. 'If it weren't for him, I could be lying in hospital right now. How would that look in the papers; that I'd been beaten up after leaving a gay club? It wouldn't exactly do much for your precious family honour, would it?'

'Oh, grow up, Quatre.' His sister's tone was pure ice. 'It was your own fault that you were there, without bodyguards. You say you want to live in the real world; well, that's the sort of thing that happens when you try. There's no way you could survive. As for this man you've met, what do you expect me to do? Do you want me to arrange some sort of reward?'

'I don't want you to do anything. And he doesn't want a reward! Not everyone is obsessed with money, believe it or not.'

'Oh, but they are. You just don't know it.'

'I'm not a little boy any more. I'm twenty three, Iria. For the past five years, I have done nothing but work for Winner Enterprises. I've done everything that was expected of me, and I've never once complained. If you think I'm going to sit in the CEO's office, and do everything you tell me, then I'm sorry, but that won't happen. I'm old enough to make my own decisions about my life and I'm sorry, but I'm not going to marry Relena.'

'It's necessary,' Iria started and he glared at her.

'No, it's not. The people of Sanque don't care about whether I'm gay or not. I'm sure they'd consider it much more of a slight to them if I married their princess and then they found out about me.'

'It's illegal on L4, to live that sort of lifestyle.'

'Technically, yes.' He took a deep breath. 'You know perfectly well that there are plenty of people who do live that sort of lifestyle, but they also have wives and children so they can look respectable. I'm not going to do that.'

'I don't know what you're talking about,' Iria said flatly. 'Are you ill? Did you hit your head last night, to be talking this sort of nonsense? Perhaps I should call a doctor.'

'I'm not ill! I'm perfectly well, and I've come to my senses about a few things.'

'What makes you so special?' his sister demanded. 'What makes you think you're entitled to have a choice? None of the rest of us did. The other girls may not have been forced into marriage, but they knew their duty and chose their husbands according to Father's wishes. And what choice did I ever have, little brother? After Mother died, someone had to stay at home and run the household and help with the little ones.'

'I'm sorry, Irry.' It was years since he'd used that old nickname. 'I don't think I'm special. I know I'll have to spend my life working for WEI; I've always known that. I just don't see why it should rule every aspect of who I am. Is it so wrong to want to be happy?'

She sighed, blond head bowed, and then sat up straight. 'Fine. It looks like you've made your decision. How long is this absurd disappearing act of yours going to go on for?'

'I'm hardly disappearing,' Quatre said dryly. 'You know where I am; I'll have my 'phone if you need to contact me.' He touched his bruised cheek. 'Seriously, I just need some time to think. It's better if I'm not around anyway, not while I look like this.'

'You will call every day?'

'Absolutely.' He stood and hugged her. 'It's just for a couple of days, Irry. That's all I'm asking for; a little bit of time before I'm appointed CEO and I have to spend the rest of my life in the spotlight, being perfect.'

She hugged him back tightly. 'All right. But be careful, dear. For all our sakes. And be discreet.'

'Of course.' Quatre almost danced back to his suite. He'd done it. For the first time ever, he'd stood up to Iria and won. He'd won himself a little extra time with Trowa. That was enough, for now.

He had just placed his violin and laptop by the door when someone knocked and Heero Yuy stepped inside. He gave Quatre a long, evaluating stare and shook his head reprovingly. 'I thought I'd taught you better than that. You need a refresher course.'

'There were six of them,' Quatre said meekly.

'Hn. Don't make excuses for your own shortcomings. You obviously let them get too close.'

'I did.' Quatre swallowed, abruptly remembering. 'I was stupid. God, Heero, they almost…'

'They didn't.' Heero, who never did touchy-feely things, give him an abrupt, crushing hug. 'Now, what exactly is going on?'

'I'm packing.' Quatre threw open his closet doors and shook his head at the neat rows of smart suits in dark colours. He hadn't chosen any of them; the family tailor simply delivered a new batch of garments every month or so. He slammed the doors shut again. 'On second thoughts, no, I'm not. I hate all my clothes. Do you want to come shopping with me? There are shops on the ground floor of the hotel.'

Heero, a man of few words, nodded. 'I talked to Rashid. You're going back to this man?'

'For a while, yes.' Quatre picked up his violin case, deciding he didn't really want anything else. Even the book he'd been reading was an economic analysis on the European Economy; he'd have more fun reading fantasy books at Trowa's. 'Iria's already told me what a fool I am. Are you going to start?'

Heero opened the door, leading the way down the corridor to the lifts. 'I'm sure your sister's said it all. Do you really trust him this much?'

'I really do.' Quatre dropped his voice. 'I like him a lot.'

His friend nodded again. 'Then he must have something going for him. What sort of clothes do you want to buy?'

'I don't know. Something casual? Nothing like I normally wear.'

'Something to match the hair?'

'I suppose.' Quatre grinned; everything suddenly seemed brighter. He'd actually argued with Iria and won, more or less, and he had Heero with him, and he had a whole day to spend with Trowa. Several days, maybe, if Trowa didn't decide to sling him out for hiding his identity.

Shopping for clothes turned out to be fun. Heero got into the spirit of things once Quatre insisted he couldn't just stand around and watch but had to try on some clothes himself. And Quatre loved every minute of it. His friend turned out to have a surprisingly good eye for what suited them both and all his choices were perfect. A deliciously soft pair of suede jeans, a teal-green leather jacket that brought out the green in Quatre's eyes, and a couple of fitted cashmere t-shirts.

In the end, he had to buy a couple of cases to carry all his purchases; it would look odd to turn up at Wish with a pile of carrier bags.

In the last shop, Quatre picked out a new outfit to wear and changed in the fitting room. Stone-coloured linen trousers and lambswool sweater in a soft shade of blue. It was maybe a bit dressy for a hike, but it felt so good and he looked quite nice. He mussed up his hair a little bit and stuck his head around the door for Heero's verdict.

Heero studied him, and then shook his head. 'You're missing something. Wait a sec.'

Quatre retreated behind the door. Oh dear. Maybe he looked stupid after all. He never wore clothes like this. Perhaps he just wasn't cool enough to carry off an outfit like this.

'Quatre? Try these.' Heero opened the door and shoved a handful of items at him. A very cool pair of wrap-around shades, and a bracelet of plaited leather. 'You're supposed to have the whole 'look',' he explained, a little self-consciously. 'That's better.'

Quatre studied himself in the mirror, marvelling at his best friend's sudden transformation into fashion guru. When had that happened? 'Do I really look all right? Not like me?'

'You don't look like you,' Heero said instantly. 'It's not the clothes. You look happy, like you enjoy life. You haven't looked like that for a long time.'

'I haven't, have I?' Quatre echoed. 'I can't believe this is happening, Heero. I don't even know what I'm doing, not really. Am I totally insane? Iria wanted to know if I had some sort of concussion!'

That made Heero laugh. 'Well, you are acting very out of character. It's good to see you smiling properly. I think he's been good for you, this man.'

'Trowa.' Quatre said it softly, savouring the sound. 'He's wonderful, Heero. He treats me like a normal person.' He twisted the bracelet around his wrist. 'Um, I haven't actually told him who I am. I'm planning to, today. He's taking me hiking to a park; would you like to come and meet him first?'

'I'd better find somewhere to stay first,' Heero yawned suddenly. 'And maybe sleep for a couple of hours. Getting here was a total nightmare; the shuttle was diverted to London and then I had to catch three connecting flights. This bloody country has hardly any air connections.'

'I'm so sorry. It's my fault that you had to come here, and now I'm leaving you alone when you just get here. I can call Trowa and ask him if we can go tomorrow. Or maybe you could come with us?'

'Don't be an idiot. You don't want me tagging along. Perhaps we could meet for dinner?'

'Of course!' Quatre said instantly, guilt bubbling in his veins at the hopeful way his friend had asked the last question. He'd been neglecting Heero terribly, lately. There had always been a deadline or a business trip or a new project to take up his time. No wonder he didn't have any friends. And Heero had still flown halfway across the universe to be with him, because he'd been worried. 'Please. I'd love you to meet Trowa. And we can do something together tomorrow, just the two of us, if you'd like?'

Heero gave him one of his quick, almost invisible smiles and Quatre vowed that he was going to be a better friend in future.

'Actually, I have an idea. If I'm staying with Trowa, why don't you take my suite here? Someone might as well use it.' He dug into his pocket and produced his pass-card and one of the cards for Wish. 'This is the bookshop address. I'm sure Rashid won't mind driving you over later. I'll ask Trowa what time we should be home and we can all go and have dinner together. Is that OK?'

'Fine.