Disclaimer: I don't own GW ect ect, you get the picture right?
Anyhow, I just started writing this story on a whim, Love is in the air,
well... not exactly but yeah. Well, enjoy reading it. If I get more than
three reviews then I'll continue. I'm not a demanding person, I just wanna
know what all of you think. * yawns * well g-night. I'm tired and I think
my arm is falling off.
'I hate him' Trowa Barton sat gloomily on the leather couch. His long legs stretching to the other end, strong arms folded across his chest. 'Why does he have to be so perfect?' The boy's thoughts were running rapidly. He was angry, at Duo.
His fellow pilot was a complete picture of perfection to Trowa, that's what made him so mad. Long chestnut hair, beautiful blue eyes, soft creamy skin... Heero always fell head over heels for Duo, following him everywhere, making him breakfast... anything and everything. He might as well run around yelling, "All hail Duo Maxwell!" with a big sign that said something of the sort. Come to think of it Trowa wasn't sure that hadn't been done.
Heero Yuy was definitely in love with Duo Maxwell, and Trowa was jealous. For no matter how hard he tried, the image of Heero never ceased to pop up in his mind. It haunted him, Heero's voice plagued him, running through his head with all the words he ever said to Trowa, which was next to nothing. Trowa could die for all Heero cared, he'd be happy if only Duo was with him. 'Why do I even bother?' that one simple question had never been and probably would never be answered. But the banged young man simply could not get over Heero.
"Hiya Trow~a!" Duo's cheerful voice rang like a bell as he skipped into the living room. "Lo" the boy muttered in response. Duo frowned but continued "Whatcha doin?"
"Nothing."
"Whatcha watchin?"
"The news" it wasn't a complete lie, the news was on but Trowa wasn't watching it. He'd been to busy fuming. But his impassive and unreadable face came back as soon as the younger boy had come bounding in. That was his most treasured 'gift' the mask he always managed to put on, Trowa took pride in it.
Duo made a tsk tsk noise and grabbed the remote from Trowa's hand. The older boy protested but Duo paid no attention and changed the channel. Blue eyes twinkled and he moved Trowa's feet so he could sit down. "Duo! I wanted my feet there!" the teenager exclaimed, losing his patience. "Too bad. I have to sit somewhere, and I'm sure you'd rather me here then there." He pointed to the tall pilots lap. Trowa huffed in indignation, and glared.
"I would certainly mind if you sat there." A lump formed in the eldest gundams throat as Heero walked in the room, his messy hair, messier than usual, normal green top and spandex shorts looking good... as usual.
Duo giggled. "Barton." The perfect soldiers tone was cold. And Trowa knew there was no chance of there ever being emotion when his name was said, no, called. "Yeah?" "Move over." Trowa bunched himself into a ball making room for Heero. The pilot sat down next to Duo and the braided young man hopped onto his lap and they started kissing. It got hot and heavy.
When the point came that they were moaning and both shirts were off Trowa got up angrily leaving the room mumbling quietly "I've had enough." But nothing was too quiet for Heero and he just stared after the dark-haired boys retreating form. His fists clenched and unclenched as he walked up the stairs, slamming the door.
Trowa sank onto the four-poster bed and began to sob. His fist hitting the pillow like it was some kind of punching bag. He buried his face into the soft silk sheets and cried harder if that was possible, deep howls of anguish were wrenched from his soul, tears spilled from his now shadowed green eyes. Finally his strength wore out, just like his emotions. He sucked in a deep breath and rubbed his eyes. "Why?" was all he said before curling into a ball and trying to disappear as he fell into a sleep filled with nightmares that could never be explained. Unaware of the soft gray- blue eyes that watched him silently from the other bed.
"Trowa?" someone was shaking him. "Trowa?" the voice was concerned but an OZ soldier had just grabbed him after someone had killed... "NOOOO!" he awoke with a start looking around wildly. Quatre was sitting on his the edge of his bed, by his side. He was in his own bed, it had been a dream.. He sighed tiredly; it came out jagged, like the edge of broken glass.
"Trowa? Are you OK?" the blonde beside him held his hand firmly, in a loving embrace. "Y-yeah Quatre. I'm fine thanks." The Arab looked at him disbelievingly "I heard you, you're not fine. You were crying Trowa, that's not fine." Trowa looked up at his friend. "I am fine, Winner." The harshness of his tone and use of his last name made the smaller teen flinch. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to help." The boy's tone wasn't unkind; he just said it with a tint of hurt.
Quatre got off the bed and moved over to his own. "I-I'm sorry Quatre." Trowa managed. "What time is it?" blue light shone through the window indicating that night was still alive. "3:00" Trowa heard the younger mumble through his pillow. "Quatre!" Trowa climbed out of bed. "Stop moping. I said I was sorry."
"I know," he muttered through his pillow again. "I'm just having a bad night as well." Trowa slipped into his friend's bed and sat at the end facing Quatre.
"What's wrong?" he asked. "Nuthin'" Quatre replied removing his face from the soft object and making an impression of a sleepy and irritated Trowa. "Hey now! That's not fair!" Trowa laughed forgetting what he had been so upset about for just a minute. Enjoying how he could laugh so, with Quatre, the blonde always seemed to make him laugh, and Trowa appreciated it. "Well, if your going to ignore my concern, I'll ignore yours!"
Quatre hit the older boy over the head with his pillow. "Who says I'm concerned?" Trowa put on his 'I don't care about anything face' and turned away earning himself another smack with the puppy-covered pillow. "Puppies?" Trowa smirked and Quatre's face turned red. "Uh, yeah! What's wrong with puppies?" He shoved the pillow behind his back in embarrassment.
Trowa gave a small chuckle and looked directly into the gray-blue orbs of the one person who he could open up to, those eyes took him into thoughts, places, feelings he had never even knew existed. "Nothing, absolutely nothing Quatre. It suits you." He smiled mischievously before continuing in a less caring tone "Of course I would kill to see what Wufei has to say about that!"
The Arabs eyes got wide as he thought about what a horrid scenario that would be, the Chinese pilot traipsing around school yelling about how Quatre Winner is a dork and has a pillow case with puppies all over it. That would be the end of Quatre Winner for sure. He would have to lock himself in his own locker to keep the jocks from shoving his head down a toilet. No, Trowa wasn't about to get away with this!
"Oh no! You're not telling anyone!" Quatre leapt at Trowa missing him completely and falling off of the bed. Laughing the taller pilot jumped away holding the pillow and ran across the room his comrade in hot pursuit and they both forgot about the faces that plagued their dreams, reveling in each others comfort, at least for a while.
'I hate him' Trowa Barton sat gloomily on the leather couch. His long legs stretching to the other end, strong arms folded across his chest. 'Why does he have to be so perfect?' The boy's thoughts were running rapidly. He was angry, at Duo.
His fellow pilot was a complete picture of perfection to Trowa, that's what made him so mad. Long chestnut hair, beautiful blue eyes, soft creamy skin... Heero always fell head over heels for Duo, following him everywhere, making him breakfast... anything and everything. He might as well run around yelling, "All hail Duo Maxwell!" with a big sign that said something of the sort. Come to think of it Trowa wasn't sure that hadn't been done.
Heero Yuy was definitely in love with Duo Maxwell, and Trowa was jealous. For no matter how hard he tried, the image of Heero never ceased to pop up in his mind. It haunted him, Heero's voice plagued him, running through his head with all the words he ever said to Trowa, which was next to nothing. Trowa could die for all Heero cared, he'd be happy if only Duo was with him. 'Why do I even bother?' that one simple question had never been and probably would never be answered. But the banged young man simply could not get over Heero.
"Hiya Trow~a!" Duo's cheerful voice rang like a bell as he skipped into the living room. "Lo" the boy muttered in response. Duo frowned but continued "Whatcha doin?"
"Nothing."
"Whatcha watchin?"
"The news" it wasn't a complete lie, the news was on but Trowa wasn't watching it. He'd been to busy fuming. But his impassive and unreadable face came back as soon as the younger boy had come bounding in. That was his most treasured 'gift' the mask he always managed to put on, Trowa took pride in it.
Duo made a tsk tsk noise and grabbed the remote from Trowa's hand. The older boy protested but Duo paid no attention and changed the channel. Blue eyes twinkled and he moved Trowa's feet so he could sit down. "Duo! I wanted my feet there!" the teenager exclaimed, losing his patience. "Too bad. I have to sit somewhere, and I'm sure you'd rather me here then there." He pointed to the tall pilots lap. Trowa huffed in indignation, and glared.
"I would certainly mind if you sat there." A lump formed in the eldest gundams throat as Heero walked in the room, his messy hair, messier than usual, normal green top and spandex shorts looking good... as usual.
Duo giggled. "Barton." The perfect soldiers tone was cold. And Trowa knew there was no chance of there ever being emotion when his name was said, no, called. "Yeah?" "Move over." Trowa bunched himself into a ball making room for Heero. The pilot sat down next to Duo and the braided young man hopped onto his lap and they started kissing. It got hot and heavy.
When the point came that they were moaning and both shirts were off Trowa got up angrily leaving the room mumbling quietly "I've had enough." But nothing was too quiet for Heero and he just stared after the dark-haired boys retreating form. His fists clenched and unclenched as he walked up the stairs, slamming the door.
Trowa sank onto the four-poster bed and began to sob. His fist hitting the pillow like it was some kind of punching bag. He buried his face into the soft silk sheets and cried harder if that was possible, deep howls of anguish were wrenched from his soul, tears spilled from his now shadowed green eyes. Finally his strength wore out, just like his emotions. He sucked in a deep breath and rubbed his eyes. "Why?" was all he said before curling into a ball and trying to disappear as he fell into a sleep filled with nightmares that could never be explained. Unaware of the soft gray- blue eyes that watched him silently from the other bed.
"Trowa?" someone was shaking him. "Trowa?" the voice was concerned but an OZ soldier had just grabbed him after someone had killed... "NOOOO!" he awoke with a start looking around wildly. Quatre was sitting on his the edge of his bed, by his side. He was in his own bed, it had been a dream.. He sighed tiredly; it came out jagged, like the edge of broken glass.
"Trowa? Are you OK?" the blonde beside him held his hand firmly, in a loving embrace. "Y-yeah Quatre. I'm fine thanks." The Arab looked at him disbelievingly "I heard you, you're not fine. You were crying Trowa, that's not fine." Trowa looked up at his friend. "I am fine, Winner." The harshness of his tone and use of his last name made the smaller teen flinch. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to help." The boy's tone wasn't unkind; he just said it with a tint of hurt.
Quatre got off the bed and moved over to his own. "I-I'm sorry Quatre." Trowa managed. "What time is it?" blue light shone through the window indicating that night was still alive. "3:00" Trowa heard the younger mumble through his pillow. "Quatre!" Trowa climbed out of bed. "Stop moping. I said I was sorry."
"I know," he muttered through his pillow again. "I'm just having a bad night as well." Trowa slipped into his friend's bed and sat at the end facing Quatre.
"What's wrong?" he asked. "Nuthin'" Quatre replied removing his face from the soft object and making an impression of a sleepy and irritated Trowa. "Hey now! That's not fair!" Trowa laughed forgetting what he had been so upset about for just a minute. Enjoying how he could laugh so, with Quatre, the blonde always seemed to make him laugh, and Trowa appreciated it. "Well, if your going to ignore my concern, I'll ignore yours!"
Quatre hit the older boy over the head with his pillow. "Who says I'm concerned?" Trowa put on his 'I don't care about anything face' and turned away earning himself another smack with the puppy-covered pillow. "Puppies?" Trowa smirked and Quatre's face turned red. "Uh, yeah! What's wrong with puppies?" He shoved the pillow behind his back in embarrassment.
Trowa gave a small chuckle and looked directly into the gray-blue orbs of the one person who he could open up to, those eyes took him into thoughts, places, feelings he had never even knew existed. "Nothing, absolutely nothing Quatre. It suits you." He smiled mischievously before continuing in a less caring tone "Of course I would kill to see what Wufei has to say about that!"
The Arabs eyes got wide as he thought about what a horrid scenario that would be, the Chinese pilot traipsing around school yelling about how Quatre Winner is a dork and has a pillow case with puppies all over it. That would be the end of Quatre Winner for sure. He would have to lock himself in his own locker to keep the jocks from shoving his head down a toilet. No, Trowa wasn't about to get away with this!
"Oh no! You're not telling anyone!" Quatre leapt at Trowa missing him completely and falling off of the bed. Laughing the taller pilot jumped away holding the pillow and ran across the room his comrade in hot pursuit and they both forgot about the faces that plagued their dreams, reveling in each others comfort, at least for a while.