This story was written for the fanworks challenge '101 ways to snog en route to a colony' to celebrate GWAddiction's two-millionth hit, which was organized by Psyche and Dracostella. It was archived under Snog 12.

Daniel in the Lions' Den

—

"We should be landing in about fifteen minutes."

Armed with that knowledge, Trowa rose from his seat and made his way back toward the cargo hold of the carrier. The pilots hardly seemed to notice his departure.

Aft of the ship was a locker room that held the blue and purple astrosuits of the officers, engineers and pilots. Beyond that—he could just make out the dark forms of the Tauruses when one officer stepped through the door and brushed past Trowa on his way to the cabin.

Nichol glared at him across the room. In contrast to everyone else on the carrier, he had traded astrosuit for uniform. Just had to look his best for the Colonel the moment he stepped through that hatch.

"What do you want?" he said shortly, turning his back on Trowa as he shrugged on the dress shirt that went under their green jackets.

Trowa crossed his arms. "Fifteen minutes to landing."

"I heard."

"In a hurry?"

"I can't wait to get out of here." Nichol buttoned his sleeves violently. "I didn't ask to be put on baby-sitting duty for three hours."

"Yeah," said Trowa. "You've been telling me that for the past three hours."

Nichol seemed to growl, reminding Trowa of being back at the circus with Cathrine. Playing with the lions and how impressed everyone had been when he tamed them with a look. He got closer. "Look. I know you don't like me—"

"Figured that out just now?"

"I know you don't trust me," Trowa trudged on, "because you think I'm a traitor. But what are you so afraid of? Really."

Nichol went still. He turned around slowly, looking down at him with an expression more quizzical than anything. "Afraid? I don't know what you're talking about."

"Usually when a person acts like such an ass it's because he's trying to hide something."

Trowa watched the lieutenant's reaction carefully, trying to find the answer himself. In those dark eyes he saw a puppet on strings, but who was pulling them and how many ways remained a mystery. Une—the Colonel or Lady—or someone else. Toward peace, or war. Was Trowa a part of that tug-of-war himself?

Nichol forced a laugh. "You've gotta be kidding me, right?"

"It's nothing to be ashamed of."

In a second he had Trowa up against the lockers. "What are you trying to say?" There was a wild, searching gleam in Nichol's eyes, like he seemed worried Trowa might've unlocked some deep, dark secret.

Unfortunately, Trowa knew nothing. The irony made him smile.

But even a smile could be taken for insubordination. "I'm warning you, Barton, you are treading a line you don't want to cross."

"And if I do step over it, I suppose you could lose what little respect you might have still had for me. However . . ."

The word hung between them. With nowhere to go, Trowa pushed himself up against the lockers, standing on his toes, captured Nichol with a fierce grip on his dress shirt, and kissed him hard on the lips. He was fully aware the lieutenant was confused as it was, and that that made Trowa's actions irresponsible. He expected swift retaliation, but not the retaliation he got.

Trowa gasped into the Nichol's mouth as he was forced back against the lockers, but quickly reclaimed his control. He ran his fingers through the thick curls at the back of Nichol's head, regretting he could only partly feel them, as well as Nichol's hard body pressed against his, through the thick material of the astrosuit.

To make up for it, Trowa slipped his tongue between the lips that kneaded his, longing to feel something genuine and unfiltered. He was only successful for a second, before Nichol pushed away.

"I hate you," he said.

Trowa opened his mouth to parry with some dry comment, but the whoosh of the door silenced him.

"Lieutenant Nichol," the newcomer said, "we're coming up on Barge. I suggest you take your seat, sir."

"Thank you." Nichol pulled on his dark jacket and slammed the locker door. The other officer hardly gave Trowa a glance before he returned to the cabin.

But Nichol turned. He couldn't remember the last time it had happened, but Trowa felt caught off-guard when Nichol suddenly said: "However?"

"However . . ."

Trowa lowered his eyes.

"What do we have to lose?"

He wasn't sure if it was his imagination, but he thought he saw Nichol smile.