Notes: Thank you to Mako for bein' a beta!
General Warnings: Yaoi, angst, bits and pieces of sap slipped in. References to infidelity.
This Part Specific: None
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing
Trowa wasn't surprised to see Heero in his office. He sat his coat on the desk, then turned to face him, shoulders squared and tensed. Heero snorted.
"Relax. I'm not here to kick your ass," Heero grinned a little, watching as Trowa frowned.
"Going to warn me not to hurt him?" Trowa's frown deepened as Heero laughed and shook his head.
"I don't have to. You're so sickeningly in love with him, you'd kill yourself if you hurt him," Heero snickered. "Assuming he didn't kill you first."
"He would, wouldn't he?" Trowa grinned, leaning back against the desk. He didn't bother to address Heero's assumption. He was fishing, and Trowa knew it, so he waited, watching Heero calmly.
"So what are you going to do?" Heero asked, finally, leaning next to him and crossing his arms over his chest. Trowa shrugged. He hadn't thought about it. Why should he? It was just release, just two bodies with practiced hands and specific needs, helping each other reach levels of pleasure Trowa had never experienced. Heero nudged him again, frowning.
"Why do anything? Duo and I don't have a relationship," Trowa was conscious of Heero's eyes narrowing. The room, felt colder, suddenly, and Trowa turned to look down at him. "Look, Heero, I'm married, and Duo has you and Wufei. It's just—"
"Just what?" Heero growled. He was glaring, hands balled in to fists.
"Just playing. We're just playing," Trowa looked away. They played, and it was sex, yeah, and it was intimate, but Trowa was married. Quatre just didn't understand. He tried, but he was too afraid of pain to give Trowa what he needed. To take.
"Playing," Heero repeated. He was stiff, and tense, and Trowa was glad that they were friends, brothers, because he was sure that was the only reason Heero hadn't punched him. It looked like Heero might punch him anyway.
"Yeah," Trowa swallowed, then flinched as Heero pushed away from the desk.
"So help me, Barton," Heero's eyes flashed dangerously, and Trowa remembered just how much strength was held in those muscles. "You'd better get your shit together. You—god damn it,"
Heero stalked to the door, throwing out words like "selfish" and "arrogant" and "prick." Trowa watched him with growing anxiety.
It was just play. That was all. Trowa sank heavily in to his chair and held his head in his hands. Just play. Even if Duo's head fit perfectly beneath his chin, and he could open himself to Duo without being swallowed or filled. Trowa shut his eyes, remembered windswept hair and a hammock, the feeling of arms around his waist, and lied to himself. They had to stop.