As soon as the sun broke over the horizon, Quatre was up and out of bed, getting ready to shift everything that was needed for his journey back to Earth. Cracking open an eye, Heero peered out at his koi darkly, wondering how the other could have this much energy this early. It never crossed his mind that it was most likely because he hadn't sat up most of the night with a gun in hand. Struggling out of the too inviting embrace of the warm bed, he slunk towards the shower to wake up. Heero Yuy was not a morning person.
A pair of arms wrapping about his waist slowed his progress as a chipper voice brushed along his ear, "Ohoya, Hee-chan! Rashid is getting our baggage into the car, and the shuttle is on stand by."
"Hn." Yup, Heero was his normal talkative self.
"Want anything for breakfast?"
"Hn." At least it sounded a bit more awake now.
"Anything specific besides your laptop you want to take with us?"
"Hn." A spray of water erupting in the bathtub accompanied that one.
Quatre paused outside the bathroom door as he watched Heero struggling to wake up enough to get the water temperature adjusted without freezing or scalding himself. An impish grin settled on his lips as he questioned once more, never losing the innocent tones of his voice, "Want someone to scrub your back and ... the rest of you?"
Dear Allah... he still couldn't say that without blushing to the roots of his blonde hair.
A sleep fuzzed dark blue eye peered at Quatre from behind the door, narrowing at him with a growl. Another noncommittal grunt accompanied it as Heero settled himself in the shower, a yawn breaking free of him. Mornings were hideous since the war. In that time, he could have been the first one awake and the last one to sleep. A smirk overtook his expression, considering his mate to be the reason for that. During most of the war, he'd purposely kept the Arabian at an arm's length even when they were curled together. Either of them could have died the next morning, the next night, the next hour... Now, he was slowly losing that fear, washed it away in the balm of Quatre's company. He was learning how to love.
A giggle came from just beyond the shower curtain as the male who was occupying his thoughts peeked in at him, sizing him up with a sizzling slow toe to head examination. Heero fought the grin that wanted to surface as he watched the other boy's blush deepening. Even when they were teasing each other like this, Quatre maintained that air of innocence that drove him to exasperation at times, to a love that was nearly crushing with its power at others. Sweet lips pursed into a smile as the blonde winked up at him. "Just checking to see if you needed help with anything, koi."
Heero may have had no war to fight, but his physical condition had slipped none. With a deceptively sleepy yawn, his body moved with a speed that was spooky. Arms shot out to grasp Quatre, ignoring the squeaked out protests as he dragged him into the shower with him... clothes and all. Ineffectual baps of the other's fists rained on his arms as he tightened them, resting his chin atop the golden locks of hair. "No. Just needed something to use as a headrest. Thanks for volunteering."
An outraged string of Arabic followed that as Heero merely adjusted his grip to pull the other boy more into the water, soaking him completely. Revenge for being too happy in the mornings was a beautiful thing. "Such language. I'm going to have to stop Abdul from teaching you that. Sunglasses wearing baka."
Quatre sighed as he flipped a soaked lock of his hair out of his eyes, grumbling under his breath. His clothes were plastered to him now thanks to his koibito's trick. He should have never forgotten that much like a sleepy looking feline, Heero could move like the wind. Folding his now freed arms over his chest, he stood silently... dripping.
The arms that had been keeping him captive slid around the Arabian's waist even as the body they were attached to shook with silent laughter. Duo had once sent Heero a snapshot of Quatre in a furious mood with one cut from am ancient child's book called 'Winnie the Pooh' featuring a character named Piglet with nearly the same expression. Ever since then, that was the mental image he got whenever his koi showed anger. Knowing that this was going to be a long... very long... shuttle ride with Quatre this upset with him, Heero's fingertips rose to stroke against the waterlogged surface of his mate's silk shirt. A soft whimper encouraged him as those questing fingers found the rapidly hardening nipples, tracing small circles about them. The Japanese boy's head lowered, lips pressing against the pale throat beneath him, suckling the water from it hungrily even as his hand lowered. Fingers splayed open, he pressed Quatre's body into his own, sliding down to rest on the other's groin, his own hips pressing tightly against the khaki clad flesh.
Quatre's back arched with a whisper of a moan, rolling his hips with the other's ministrations. The heat that had lay simmering beneath his skin at watching his mate was rising, enveloping in a manner that simple lust couldn't explain. The first time that they had been together, Quatre had been nearly fearful, knowing the power that lay within the frame of his would be lover. It had began simply enough, the Arabian seeking out Heero to talk. The other pilots would never have suspected that Wing's could be a quietly honest person, seeing him only as the Perfect Soldier. This hadn't been the first time he'd sought Heero out, having been given the same advice that the boy gave Trowa... follow your emotions. The next suggestion had been not to expect or force Trowa to show him anything in public, focusing more on when they were behind closed doors. The Japanese boy had understood all too well that some people, like him, were unable to show an emotion in front of others that could be taken as a weakness. Too many failed attempts had pushed Quatre into despair. Trowa would listen to anything he had to say, but on his own feelings, thoughts, and ideas, he kept his silence. Any attempt to question or learn was cut off with lovemaking. It had become more of a way to avoid things than a union of their souls. It cheapened the act in Quatre's eyes, leading to arguments and cold nights on both sides. Crying on Heero's bed, it had just... happened.
Brought back to the present by the sound of his own zipper sliding down and buttons being popped off his shirt one by one, Quatre managed a growl at his koibito through his panting, "You already owe me three shirts. What is it with you and your inability to unbutton a shirt?"
"Start wearing pullovers," was the only suggestion he received in reply.
The crash of the bathroom door being thrown open startled both of them as the shower curtain was jerked aside and the sunglass-covered visage of Abdul grinned at them. That grin lasted for roughly three seconds, enough time for the Maguanac to realize just -what- he had interrupted and hear the muttered 'Omae o Korosu' from Heero. "Quatre-sama! Heero-sama... uhhh... Rashid made me do it! He said it was time to go!"
Dodging a thrown bottle of shampoo, Abdul beat a hasty retreat, his laughter ringing behind him.
Giggling softly, the hilarity of the whole situation finally hit Quatre. Tears began to stream down his face as he glanced over his shoulder and a narrow eyed Heero that didn't look overly happy at being denied his morning ritual. "We do have to get going if you want to get to the Preventers before Duo talks Wufei into taking the day off."
Heero merely glared at him in mock anger as he reached a hand for the faucet knob, the arm still wrapped about Quatre tightening. Freezing cold water sluiced over them a bare second later. Quatre's shrieks filled the room as Heero snickered. "You did say we had to get going, koi."
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Ten minutes later, the pair emerged from the mansion, once more in what Quatre termed their 'public selves'. Heero might as well have been the bodyguard he was often thought of being for all the affection he showed the other. Quatre himself seemed focused on business, getting things settled here before they left. A sizzling in the air captured Heero's attention, snapping him out of the blankness he kept as Abdul nudged him and continued to prattle on while Quatre spoke to Rashid. For him, the next moments happened in a hideous slow motion.
The initial implosion shook the Winner house, Heero's feet moving before the sound had fully registered for what it was with his consciousness. The Perfect Soldier in action. Diving, he snared Quatre to his chest, rolling and wrapping himself over the smaller boy as the second bomb exploded. Instead of it being an internal and mostly harmless bomb, this one's force went outwards, fire and glass showering down on them. Beneath him, he could hear and feel Quatre struggling with him, something he refused to be moved on, covering the smaller form with him own and keeping him forced to the ground. Shouts rang out from behind them, Maguanacs swarming in all direction bearing guns that they seemed to pull from nowhere. Abdul and Rashid pulled the two of them up, abrasions littering Heero's backside from where thrown glass had sliced through his clothing. Aware that they were being pushed towards the waiting car, Heero planted his feet, gathering Quatre tightly into his arms as he shook his head. "Check the car first. I'm not putting him in there without knowing."
Abdul nodded once, not bothering to ask for an explanation at hearing the dead tones of Heero's voice. The vehicle was nearly pulled apart as bodies moved over it, checking anywhere an explosive might have been hidden. A call came up from one as he stepped back, growling something in Arabic as he pointed to the underneath of the car, gesturing everyone back. They had nearly stepped into a deathtrap.
Rashid's voice slid across Heero and Quatre's ears in a solemn mutter. "It was Master Quatre's room. Beneath the bed and in the closet."
Both of them bore similar expressions of anger and wonderment. They had to have been timed explosives, otherwise they would have gone off with the slipped in or out of bed. The same with the closet. A tripped one would have gone off when Quatre had opened the door to get their clothes. The already blank mask of Heero's face tightened at that thought. Quatre was the one who ended up taking command, something few would have attributed to the boy's delicate seeming. His mate wasn't taken off guard. The Arabian had been the one who had destroyed an entire colony, commanded a group as fierce as the Maguanacs, designed Wing, and a Gundam pilot, not to mention their strategist. The ZERO system was a thought he quickly shut away. It was a fool that thought he was a simpering wimp. "Bring Heero's bike around and have the Maguanacs at the shuttle bay sweep my shuttle. I don't want anyone but those I know I can trust looking for anything that strikes them as off-key. Whoever is onboard as crew, kick them off. Heero and I can handle getting us to Earth. Have the Estate evacuated immediately and teams sweep it for anything that can tell us who did this."
Rashid nodded, moving off to comply. Quatre's cherubic face hardened into his own scowl of upset at his rooms and nearly his car destroyed. If Heero hadn't thought to check it in the confusion... Shaking his head, he put that out of his mind. How the two of them meshed talent-wise was one of their strengths, a strength that might have saved their lives this time. The two of them didn't touch beyond Heero's restraining hand on Quatre's shoulder; all that they felt didn't need to be expressed out loud. Quatre's fingers brushed his koi's briefly as Heero stepped away to investigate the motorcycle. Finding it clean, he pulled Quatre onto it before him, shielding the boy's back with his own front. It was standard procedure for preventing what could be an assassination, and Heero had no problems with putting his life on the line for the other. With a roar of the bike's engine, they were gone.
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Slow footsteps announced the lanky male's arrival in the room as Noin glanced up from her paperwork. A pleased smile spread over her lips as she rose to her feet, offering the boy her hand. "Trowa! Good to see you again. How was L4?"
Trowa Barton's usual reserved manner was in place as he allowed her to take his hand, a nod answering her questions. "It was an experience as always."
A pair of arms wrapping about his waist slowed his progress as a chipper voice brushed along his ear, "Ohoya, Hee-chan! Rashid is getting our baggage into the car, and the shuttle is on stand by."
"Hn." Yup, Heero was his normal talkative self.
"Want anything for breakfast?"
"Hn." At least it sounded a bit more awake now.
"Anything specific besides your laptop you want to take with us?"
"Hn." A spray of water erupting in the bathtub accompanied that one.
Quatre paused outside the bathroom door as he watched Heero struggling to wake up enough to get the water temperature adjusted without freezing or scalding himself. An impish grin settled on his lips as he questioned once more, never losing the innocent tones of his voice, "Want someone to scrub your back and ... the rest of you?"
Dear Allah... he still couldn't say that without blushing to the roots of his blonde hair.
A sleep fuzzed dark blue eye peered at Quatre from behind the door, narrowing at him with a growl. Another noncommittal grunt accompanied it as Heero settled himself in the shower, a yawn breaking free of him. Mornings were hideous since the war. In that time, he could have been the first one awake and the last one to sleep. A smirk overtook his expression, considering his mate to be the reason for that. During most of the war, he'd purposely kept the Arabian at an arm's length even when they were curled together. Either of them could have died the next morning, the next night, the next hour... Now, he was slowly losing that fear, washed it away in the balm of Quatre's company. He was learning how to love.
A giggle came from just beyond the shower curtain as the male who was occupying his thoughts peeked in at him, sizing him up with a sizzling slow toe to head examination. Heero fought the grin that wanted to surface as he watched the other boy's blush deepening. Even when they were teasing each other like this, Quatre maintained that air of innocence that drove him to exasperation at times, to a love that was nearly crushing with its power at others. Sweet lips pursed into a smile as the blonde winked up at him. "Just checking to see if you needed help with anything, koi."
Heero may have had no war to fight, but his physical condition had slipped none. With a deceptively sleepy yawn, his body moved with a speed that was spooky. Arms shot out to grasp Quatre, ignoring the squeaked out protests as he dragged him into the shower with him... clothes and all. Ineffectual baps of the other's fists rained on his arms as he tightened them, resting his chin atop the golden locks of hair. "No. Just needed something to use as a headrest. Thanks for volunteering."
An outraged string of Arabic followed that as Heero merely adjusted his grip to pull the other boy more into the water, soaking him completely. Revenge for being too happy in the mornings was a beautiful thing. "Such language. I'm going to have to stop Abdul from teaching you that. Sunglasses wearing baka."
Quatre sighed as he flipped a soaked lock of his hair out of his eyes, grumbling under his breath. His clothes were plastered to him now thanks to his koibito's trick. He should have never forgotten that much like a sleepy looking feline, Heero could move like the wind. Folding his now freed arms over his chest, he stood silently... dripping.
The arms that had been keeping him captive slid around the Arabian's waist even as the body they were attached to shook with silent laughter. Duo had once sent Heero a snapshot of Quatre in a furious mood with one cut from am ancient child's book called 'Winnie the Pooh' featuring a character named Piglet with nearly the same expression. Ever since then, that was the mental image he got whenever his koi showed anger. Knowing that this was going to be a long... very long... shuttle ride with Quatre this upset with him, Heero's fingertips rose to stroke against the waterlogged surface of his mate's silk shirt. A soft whimper encouraged him as those questing fingers found the rapidly hardening nipples, tracing small circles about them. The Japanese boy's head lowered, lips pressing against the pale throat beneath him, suckling the water from it hungrily even as his hand lowered. Fingers splayed open, he pressed Quatre's body into his own, sliding down to rest on the other's groin, his own hips pressing tightly against the khaki clad flesh.
Quatre's back arched with a whisper of a moan, rolling his hips with the other's ministrations. The heat that had lay simmering beneath his skin at watching his mate was rising, enveloping in a manner that simple lust couldn't explain. The first time that they had been together, Quatre had been nearly fearful, knowing the power that lay within the frame of his would be lover. It had began simply enough, the Arabian seeking out Heero to talk. The other pilots would never have suspected that Wing's could be a quietly honest person, seeing him only as the Perfect Soldier. This hadn't been the first time he'd sought Heero out, having been given the same advice that the boy gave Trowa... follow your emotions. The next suggestion had been not to expect or force Trowa to show him anything in public, focusing more on when they were behind closed doors. The Japanese boy had understood all too well that some people, like him, were unable to show an emotion in front of others that could be taken as a weakness. Too many failed attempts had pushed Quatre into despair. Trowa would listen to anything he had to say, but on his own feelings, thoughts, and ideas, he kept his silence. Any attempt to question or learn was cut off with lovemaking. It had become more of a way to avoid things than a union of their souls. It cheapened the act in Quatre's eyes, leading to arguments and cold nights on both sides. Crying on Heero's bed, it had just... happened.
Brought back to the present by the sound of his own zipper sliding down and buttons being popped off his shirt one by one, Quatre managed a growl at his koibito through his panting, "You already owe me three shirts. What is it with you and your inability to unbutton a shirt?"
"Start wearing pullovers," was the only suggestion he received in reply.
The crash of the bathroom door being thrown open startled both of them as the shower curtain was jerked aside and the sunglass-covered visage of Abdul grinned at them. That grin lasted for roughly three seconds, enough time for the Maguanac to realize just -what- he had interrupted and hear the muttered 'Omae o Korosu' from Heero. "Quatre-sama! Heero-sama... uhhh... Rashid made me do it! He said it was time to go!"
Dodging a thrown bottle of shampoo, Abdul beat a hasty retreat, his laughter ringing behind him.
Giggling softly, the hilarity of the whole situation finally hit Quatre. Tears began to stream down his face as he glanced over his shoulder and a narrow eyed Heero that didn't look overly happy at being denied his morning ritual. "We do have to get going if you want to get to the Preventers before Duo talks Wufei into taking the day off."
Heero merely glared at him in mock anger as he reached a hand for the faucet knob, the arm still wrapped about Quatre tightening. Freezing cold water sluiced over them a bare second later. Quatre's shrieks filled the room as Heero snickered. "You did say we had to get going, koi."
------------------------------
Ten minutes later, the pair emerged from the mansion, once more in what Quatre termed their 'public selves'. Heero might as well have been the bodyguard he was often thought of being for all the affection he showed the other. Quatre himself seemed focused on business, getting things settled here before they left. A sizzling in the air captured Heero's attention, snapping him out of the blankness he kept as Abdul nudged him and continued to prattle on while Quatre spoke to Rashid. For him, the next moments happened in a hideous slow motion.
The initial implosion shook the Winner house, Heero's feet moving before the sound had fully registered for what it was with his consciousness. The Perfect Soldier in action. Diving, he snared Quatre to his chest, rolling and wrapping himself over the smaller boy as the second bomb exploded. Instead of it being an internal and mostly harmless bomb, this one's force went outwards, fire and glass showering down on them. Beneath him, he could hear and feel Quatre struggling with him, something he refused to be moved on, covering the smaller form with him own and keeping him forced to the ground. Shouts rang out from behind them, Maguanacs swarming in all direction bearing guns that they seemed to pull from nowhere. Abdul and Rashid pulled the two of them up, abrasions littering Heero's backside from where thrown glass had sliced through his clothing. Aware that they were being pushed towards the waiting car, Heero planted his feet, gathering Quatre tightly into his arms as he shook his head. "Check the car first. I'm not putting him in there without knowing."
Abdul nodded once, not bothering to ask for an explanation at hearing the dead tones of Heero's voice. The vehicle was nearly pulled apart as bodies moved over it, checking anywhere an explosive might have been hidden. A call came up from one as he stepped back, growling something in Arabic as he pointed to the underneath of the car, gesturing everyone back. They had nearly stepped into a deathtrap.
Rashid's voice slid across Heero and Quatre's ears in a solemn mutter. "It was Master Quatre's room. Beneath the bed and in the closet."
Both of them bore similar expressions of anger and wonderment. They had to have been timed explosives, otherwise they would have gone off with the slipped in or out of bed. The same with the closet. A tripped one would have gone off when Quatre had opened the door to get their clothes. The already blank mask of Heero's face tightened at that thought. Quatre was the one who ended up taking command, something few would have attributed to the boy's delicate seeming. His mate wasn't taken off guard. The Arabian had been the one who had destroyed an entire colony, commanded a group as fierce as the Maguanacs, designed Wing, and a Gundam pilot, not to mention their strategist. The ZERO system was a thought he quickly shut away. It was a fool that thought he was a simpering wimp. "Bring Heero's bike around and have the Maguanacs at the shuttle bay sweep my shuttle. I don't want anyone but those I know I can trust looking for anything that strikes them as off-key. Whoever is onboard as crew, kick them off. Heero and I can handle getting us to Earth. Have the Estate evacuated immediately and teams sweep it for anything that can tell us who did this."
Rashid nodded, moving off to comply. Quatre's cherubic face hardened into his own scowl of upset at his rooms and nearly his car destroyed. If Heero hadn't thought to check it in the confusion... Shaking his head, he put that out of his mind. How the two of them meshed talent-wise was one of their strengths, a strength that might have saved their lives this time. The two of them didn't touch beyond Heero's restraining hand on Quatre's shoulder; all that they felt didn't need to be expressed out loud. Quatre's fingers brushed his koi's briefly as Heero stepped away to investigate the motorcycle. Finding it clean, he pulled Quatre onto it before him, shielding the boy's back with his own front. It was standard procedure for preventing what could be an assassination, and Heero had no problems with putting his life on the line for the other. With a roar of the bike's engine, they were gone.
-------------------------------------
Slow footsteps announced the lanky male's arrival in the room as Noin glanced up from her paperwork. A pleased smile spread over her lips as she rose to her feet, offering the boy her hand. "Trowa! Good to see you again. How was L4?"
Trowa Barton's usual reserved manner was in place as he allowed her to take his hand, a nod answering her questions. "It was an experience as always."