Same disclaimers and warnings apply as in Part 1.

~Part 2~

The next day comes and goes.  Trowa boards the shuttle that night with his express-sent ticket and sleeps the entire way.  When he arrives on L-4, it is the next morning.  Refreshed, but still a little drowsy, the tall man calls a cab and is taken directly to the main gate of the Winner Estate.

Trowa can't help but gaze in awe at the huge mansion.  After unloading his duffel bag from the trunk of the cab, he pays the driver and makes his way up the long, wide driveway.

Once at the door, Trowa raises his hand to knock, but the door opens before he even touches it.  Rashid appears in the doorway with a look of great relief.  Both men offer small smiles and Trowa steps into the entrance hall.

"Master Trowa, I am glad that you arrived safely.  Can I take your bag?  Jacket?  Would you like anything to eat?  Drink?  Tea?  We keep your favorite in ample supply.  Your room is the usual.  Go ahead and make yourself comfortable.  Master Quatre is upstairs.  He doesn't know you're here.  Feel free to rest awhile.  I'll be in the kitchen."  Rashid says all of his quickly, not giving Trowa a chance to reply, and leaves just as fast.

Trowa, once again, is left speechless and a little shocked, but makes his way to the second floor where his usual room lays untouched since his last visit.  After he deposits his bag on the queen-sized bed, the brunette looks around.  The room is rather large.  Not large by wealthy standards, but bigger than any bedroom you would find in an average home.  Although it is sparsely furnished, the few items present show the wealth and good taste of the owner.  A mahogany dresser and matching bureau sit against a shared wall.  A side table rests closely to the headboard of the bed.

Trowa walks over to the dresser and feels the top with his fingers.  Small gouges remain in the wood surface where he may have set things down too hard or carelessly.  He opens the top drawer and finds a photo of himself and Duo in the hallway right outside the room.  The American is smiling jubilantly while giving the camera a thumbs-up; the circus performer appears almost melancholy as he stares ahead.  Trowa smiles and closes the drawer, keeping the photo in there for safe keeping.  He takes one more look around before going out into the hallway.  Across from his room and a little to the right sits a set of double-doors with fancy, carved, gold-metal handles:  Quatre's room.  Taking a deep breath, the tall brunette approaches the doors and knocks quietly.  Receiving no answer, he puts his ear to the door and holds his breath.  Nothing.  He tries knocking again, this time louder, but still doesn't get anything.

Suddenly, a shrill voice yells out, "RASHID!!!!!"

Trowa jumps back, his face displaying minimal amounts of shock.  His eyes widen when he feels the floor shake slightly under his feet.  The wall also trembles when he rests his hand against it.  Not until he sees a form racing toward him does Trowa realize what is causing the confined quake.

~+~+~

For what could be the thousandth time this week, Rashid runs down a hall that he is beginning to loath.  On his way, he notices the tall, lanky figure of one Trowa Barton, but doesn't slow his pace.

~+~+~

As the large Arabian approaches fast, Trowa slowly backs away from Quatre's room, making a mad dash for his own bedroom at the last moment.  He watches as Rashid reaches his destination, and gives himself a moment to calm frayed nerves.  As he continues to spy, the other man proceeds to knock gently on the ornate doors.  He receives no answer, but continues to wait there.  There is no movement for a considerable amount of time, making the green-eyed brunette more than a little nervous.

With no warning, Rashid turns on Trowa and says, "He never answers until I yell through the door.  Come, stand beside me."  The large Arabian moves to the side as Trowa approaches.  "Master Quatre!  Are you alright?!"

Slowly, one door opens and Quatre appears with his head bowed, cradled in one hand.  "Rashid, please don't yell.  I have a headache."  He goes back into his room, but before he can close the door, Rashid stops it with his hand.

"You have a visitor."  Rashid turns and leaves, walking slowly but surely down the hallway.

Quatre doesn't bother turning around and just leaves the door open.  Trowa quietly follows him inside.  "Quatre…"  The blond drops his body onto the bed and rolls onto his side, facing away from the tall young man.  "Quatre are you alright?"

"…"

Trowa approaches the bed and sits down on the edge, facing the opposite direction as Quatre.  "Rashid asked me to come.  He said you've been upset and that Heero and Duo have both been unable to help you."

"…"

"Honestly, I don't know what I can do," the performer admits.

"Then why did you come?" asks the blond in a raspy voice.

Trowa quickly turns around, staring at the blonde's back.  "I came because – because I want to… help," he finishes weakly.

"Heh, everyone want to marry me off," Quatre says bitterly.

"That's not what I meant," Trowa insists.

"I told Duo and Heero my secret.  Do you know my secret?"

"Do you know mine?" Trowa answers quietly.

Quatre gracefully sits up and turns to face his friend.  "I think it's the same as mine."

"I disagree."

"I love you."

"You love Jenna."

"I'm in love with you."

"You love everyone," Trowa argues, "You can't help it; it's your nature."

"I'm in love with you."

Trowa pauses.  "No, you're not."

"I can prove it," Quatre insists.

Trowa laughs lightly, not smiling.  "And how is that?"

"I would rather die than marry someone I merely love," Quatre says desperately.

"Is that your solution?  Death?" Trowa asks, looking at the blond man sadly.

Quatre changes angles.  "I'll call it off."

"You won't.  You can't hurt her like that."

"It'll hurt more to go through with it."

"And after you call it off?" Trowa inquires dubiously.

"I'll tell everyone the truth," Quatre replies simply.

"I won't."

Quatre's eyes widen.  "What?  Why?"

"Because I love you.  And I want you to have a good life.  You deserve everything you have and you deserve to be with someone whom you can share that with - someone who can give you a family of your own to share your success with.  I don't want to be responsible for holding you back."

"You don't, Trowa!" Quatre exclaims, "You never have!"  He reaches out to grab Trowa's arm, but the tall man stands abruptly, more than an arm's length away.

"I know about the pressure you were under before you met Jenna!  Your family needs you to do this!"

"Trowa, please…" Quatre pleads.

"I need you to believe me when I say that everything I've done has been for you.  When I stopped contacting you - when I acted like I wanted nothing to do with you – it was all so you could attain what would be impossible with me.

"Trowa, adoption is-"

"It's not just about having kids, Quatre!" Trowa insists, "Jenna is beautiful and bright.  She's obviously outgoing and – and pleasant."  The performer's shoulder visibly sag as he says, "That girl is a better match for you than I could ever be."

With sympathetic eyes, Quatre stands and walks to Trowa's side.  Placing a hand on the taller man's shoulder, he says, "What good will it do me to marry someone who acts the same as I do?  I want somebody who accentuates my qualities, someone who's best attributes I compliment.  And Trowa, seeing your occasional smile means more to me than anyone else's everyday grin.  Also," he adds shyly, "you understand me."

Trowa opens his mouth to say something, but Quatre interrupts him, looking away, saying, "I know understanding comes with time, but… I was talking to Jenna that day when we visited you at the circus.  I told her about the nightmares and bad reactions to slight movements out of my direct line of sight.  I told her how I almost hit Cathy when she came up behind me just to say hello.  She said that once we're married, she'd help to cure me.  She'd "fix" my problem.  She's probably already talked to her mother – a psychologist - about it.  They don't understand.  How can they?"

Trowa can only stare at his friend, gaze softening after a moment.  Slowly, he turns and grabs Quatre's shoulders, pulling him against his chest.  He hears the blond gasp as he wraps his arms around him, lowering his head to breath into his hair.  He closes his eyes and tightens his grip.

"Trowa…" Quatre breathes, exhaling onto the taller man's neck.  He tries to pull his arms out from between their bodies, but Trowa only squeezes him harder.  The Arabian starts to melt completely, but freezes when Trowa says, "This is the last time that I will understand as anything more than a friend."

Trowa pulls away, doing his best not to look into Quatre's saddened eyes, and leaves.  Once in the hall with the double doors shut, he goes to the opposite wall, pushing with his arm's straight out in front of him.  Then, bending his elbows, he rests his head against the wall, banging it a couple of time for effect.  "I'm such an idiot," he mumbles.  Pushing off, he heads downstairs for the tea Rashid had offered him earlier.

~+~+~

For the following three days, Trowa does everything in his power to avoid Quatre, no matter how much it hurts either of them.  Unfortunately, Rashid makes it especially difficult for him, fabricating reasons for the brunette to stay, forcing him to remain strictly on the property.  But when the day for Quatre's surprise bachelor party arrives, Duo and Heero make a less than expected visit and are pleasantly surprised to find the circus performer there.

"Trowa!" Duo shouts from the doorway to the tall young man descending the main staircase, around Rashid who had answered the door.  "Didn't expect you to be here!"  The American boldly ambles inside and gives his friend a hearty handshake.

"Hello, Duo," Trowa says, accepting the warm hello.

Heero comes up behind the braided man and offers his hand also.  "Trowa."

"Heero."

Rashid leads the trio into the kitchen and fixes everyone some tea and coffee.  As the three young men sit down, Heero asks, "Where is Quatre?  We should tell him of our plans."

"Nah," Duo says, "He'll probably just refuse.  Besides, I was hoping to surprise him."

"Surprise him with what?" Rashid inquires as he serves the drinks.

"A bachelor party," the American replies nonchalantly.

"Bachelor party?" Trowa asks.  "I didn't know you were-"

"You said you had shows all this week," Heero interrupts.  "We did not expect you to be here."

"Yeah.  Neither did I," the performer mumbles, glaring at Rashid who ignorantly continues to pour drinks.

"Anyway," Duo continues, "We were thinking about going to a bar or just raiding the wine cellar here."

"Master Quatre does not drink," Rashid interjects, "And may I remind you that all of you are underage."

At this, Duo huffs and slumps into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.  With a pouting lip, he says, "I should've known not to say anything in front of you."

"I am glad you did.  You are nineteen and on these premises are restricted to water, milk, coffee, and tea.  Maybe some apple cider if there is any left."

"Then maybe we'll just have to go elsewhere," Duo counters.

Trowa laughs lightly.  "If you can get Quatre out of his room.

Heero's eyes narrow at Trowa's comment.  "He is still acting like that?"

Trowa nods, frowning.  "Although, I have seen him venture out into the kitchen for a snack."

"Okay," Duo says, "Maybe we'll stick to apple cider, then."

"If there's any left," Trowa reminds him.  When he notices two curious glances directed toward him, he adds, "Rashid just said so.  Quatre loves cider.  If he gets a craving, he'll find a bottle no matter how well hidden.  It's like he can smell it through the glass."  A small smile creeps up on him and he can't stop it, earning two knowing looks from his friends.

"We'll wait 'til later this afternoon to ambush him.  Until then, who's up for some GTA?"

~+~+~

Four o'clock comes and goes.  Then five.  When six rolls by with no sign of the blond, Duo, Heero, and Trowa intensify their search.  By seven that evening, the trio decides to give up, and lounges in the main living room.

"Man, who knew Quat was such a pro at evasion tactics," Duo says, falling into the fluffy couch in the middle of the room.

Heero sits calmly next to Duo, looking at nothing in particular before eyeing the American.  "We should have known.  He was a soldier like the rest of us… kind of."

"Ah," Trowa agrees, "But between the three of us, we should have seen at least a clue of where he's hidden himself."

Duo abruptly stands and turns on his friends.  "I say we start without him.  Maybe he'll hear how much fun we're having and come out on his own."

"And what do you suggest we do that would be so much fun?" Trowa asks skeptically.

Silence.

Duo quickly sits back down with a huff, a little bit closer to Heero than he was before.  He leans over and whispers something into Heero's ear.  The Japanese man's cheeks stain bright pink, making the American laugh.

Trowa watches with curiosity and asks, "What?"

Heero blushes even deeper.  "N-nothing."

Duo laughs some more and urges, "Come on, Hee-chan, don't be shy."  Looking at Trowa, he starts to explain, "I was just telling Heero that he and I could-"

"Maxwell…" Heero warns hotly.

"Never mind," Duo concedes.

Trowa laughs genuinely.  "You guys definitely belong together."

Violet and cobalt eyes widen with a collective, "What?!"

Their reaction only makes Trowa laugh more.  "I'm not blind!" he insists between chuckles, "I saw when you sat closer to Heero just now, Duo.  I saw the way you walked together and interacted with each other at the circus – stolen glances every now and then, taken when you think no one is looking."  He smiles warmly, then gets up out of the recliner he had been relaxing in.  "I think I'm going to go get a snack.  Do you guys want anything?"

Heero and Duo shake their heads no, Duo semi-leaning on Heero's arm.  When Trowa leaves the room, the American takes advantage of his position and presses himself more firmly against the other man's side.  Heero's blush returns full force as he fights with himself over how to react to his admirer.  He decides to try some evasion tactics of his own and stands abruptly, causing Duo to fall over onto the seat cushions face first.  "I – uh – I'm hungry."  That said, Heero leaves a greatly disappointed Duo alone in the large room as he retreats to the kitchen.  There, he finds Trowa, head buried in the refrigerator.

"Find anything yet?" Heero asks casually, letting the taller man know that he is in the room before getting too close.

Peanut butter.  Mayonnaise.  I found some Jell-o, but that looks questionable," Trowa answers, standing straight and holding a small bowl.  "Jell-o isn't supposed to be furry, right?"

Heero shrugs and starts to look in the cabinets.  "I don't know.  I've never had Jell-o."

"Hmm…"  Trowa sets the bowl aside and starts digging again.  "Heero."

"Hnn."

"How long have you and Duo been together?"

Heero pulls out a few small boxes from a cupboard.  "A couple weeks, I guess."

"Ah."  Again, Trowa pulls out a small bowl, this time with vegetables.  He sets it on the counter quickly.  "And how long have you wanted him?"

At this question, Heero stops his search and stares at the countertop, back turned to his friend.  He doesn't say anything.

"Heero?"  Trowa turns toward the Japanese man.

"Do you like macaroni and cheese?  I found a few boxes.  I think it'll work for everyone tonight," Heero says quickly.

"That's fine, but-"

"I'd rather not answer," Heero says, tearing open the macaroni boxes.

"That long, huh?"  Trowa smiles and retrieves a large bowl from a cabinet he had scoured earlier.  He sets it near Heero and helps to empty the boxes of their contents.

"Yeah.  This will take awhile in the microwave," Heero states, looking forlornly at the small, black cooking machine.  "Will this bowl even fit in there?"  He proceeds to try and squeeze the ceramic bowl inside.  No luck.  "We'll have to make it twice, I guess."

Trowa begins looking through the cupboards again and suggests, "We could always boil it on the stove."

"Been there, done that, "Heero says uncharacteristically, "Rashid won't let me near it anymore."

Trowa's eyes balloon as he faces his friend.  Handing the Japanese man two smaller bowls, he asks, "What happened?"

Heero shrugs.  "There was a potato and eggs.  Tomato sauce."  He looks up thoughtfully and adds a few more combustible food items, and a couple non-food items.  "There was a small boom and some fire – no big deal.  The kitchen staff went crazy.  I wasn't allowed back for over a month."

Trowa coughs over a laugh, doing his best to hide his smile from Heero's glaring eyes.  The two men proceed in preparing the macaroni and twenty minutes later, one bowl is finished and ready to eat.  Heero glances to the living room, asking, "Should we tell him?"

Trowa shrugs and starts readying the second bowl.  "He's your boyfriend."

Heero growls, but stays in the kitchen.  He hops up on the counter, sitting next to the hot food.  "I can wait to eat until the next bowl is ready."

"Well, by the time this one's done, the hot macaroni will be cold.  We may as well start on it."

"Hnn.  Duo!" Heero yells suddenly.  He gets no answer – no yell back, no braided man bounding in.

Trowa looks questioningly at the Japanese man and shrugs again.  "Maybe he's asleep."

"He would've woken up once the smell of the food reached him.  I think he might be mad at me."  Heero jumps back on the floor.

"What for?" Trowa inquires after he starts the microwave.

"I-It's nothing." Heero starts to walk away, but stops uncertainly.  "I just – he likes to… I don't know the word… hug and be close."

"Cuddle."

"Cuddle.  He likes that a lot."

"And you don't?"

"I do most of the time.  Just not in public, or in other people's homes, or-"

"Or where anyone else can see you," Trowa finishes for him.

"It's just uncomfortable," Heero admits.

"Ah."

"What do you think?"

Trowa is surprised at Heero's wanting to know how he feels about that sort of thing.  "I – I don't know.  I've never been with someone, so-"

"Would you with Quatre?"

Trowa's brows knit and he scowls, "That's not relevant."

"It is," Heero insists, turning on his friend, "Because you feel for him the way I feel for Duo."

"It doesn't matter."

"Just tell me," Heero says impatiently, "Consider it advise for a good friend.  It doesn't have to go farther than this room."

Trowa hesitates, but finally says, "Yes.  I would… cuddle with him… anywhere.  It wouldn't matter where as long as he's happy."  He starts breathing hard, so he looks for something else to think about.  His gaze rests on the microwave and he forces himself to focus on the timer.

"Okay.  I'm going to go find Duo and apologize."  Heero leaves Trowa alone in the kitchen and begins his search in the living room.  Not finding the American there, he initiates a methodical search pattern and eventually succeeds, locating his boyfriend in their bedroom, feigning sleep.  Heero goes to the other man's bed and whispers his name.  "Duo?  I know you aren't asleep.  You never could regulate your breathing well enough to fool me."  Duo continues to pretend and Heero sighs.  "I want to apologize for leaving you before.  It was inexcusable."  Heero strokes the American's hair and leans in to kiss his cheek, but stops when violet eyes open.

"I forgive you, but I'm not in the mood," Duo says quietly.

Heero looks at him sadly and nods.  "I'm really sorry."

"It's okay."

"It won't happen again."

"Heero, it's okay."

"I never want you to think that I don't want to be with you."

Duo finally smiles, face still half-buried in his pillow.  "You know just what to say, don't you?"

"I hope so," Heero says, returning the small smile.  "I want you to be happy."

Duo sits up slowly and looks intently at Heero.  "I'm not the only one who needs to be, here."

Heero frowns slightly, saying, "I am happy."

"Even if it means showing affection outside of our apartment?"

"Yes."

"I know you, Heero.  That kiss at the circus was your punishment for losing a bet.  Letting your guard down like that more often… can you do that?"

"Heero smiles.  "Would you like me to show you?"

"Huh?" Duo asks dumbly.

"At the wedding, I want to dance with you."

Duo's eyes widen and he smiles.  "Heero, you don't dance until after the ceremony."

"Don't care…"  Heero leans forward and lightly kisses Duo's lips.  He offers a series of short pecks before surprising the other man and pushing forward forcefully, causing them both to fall back on the bed, Heero on top.

Duo quickly wraps his arms around Heero's neck, smiling around the kiss, and gasping when his mouth is forced open by the other man's tongue.

Heero thoroughly enjoys the taste of Duo and only breaks away when he runs out of air.  Breathing hard, he looks down at his friend – at this half-lidded eyes, flushed cheeks, and swollen lips.  His breath is taken away and he can only stare for a moment.  Recovering, he quickly recaptures Duo's mouth and ravishes it.

Duo can hardly believe the passion that he sees when Heero looks down at him.  And when the other man kisses him again, he can do nothing but surrender.  He breathes harshly when Heero releases his lips, but is offered no recovery time as his neck and earlobes are explored, only making him gasp more.  He can't help but moan and close his eyes as Heero starts unbuttoning his shirt and nips at his collarbone and chest.  "H-Heero…" he breathes and latches a hand onto his soon-to-be lover's hair, the other rubbing the man's clothed back.

Heero can't stop himself.  He starts rubbing his hips against the other man, causing hem both to gasp.  He can feel Duo pressing up into him.  He continues to kiss and caress the American farther down, but stops once his reaches his navel.  He draws himself back up to look into Duo's eyes.  "I love you."

Duo's eyes widen as he looks up at the Japanese man.  "Heero…"

Heero kisses Duo again, wrapping his arms around him as best he can.  When he releases him, Duo says, "I love you, too," making the Japanese man smile.  He smiles back and laughs lightly.  "Are you ready for this Hee-chan?"

Heero blushes and admits, "I don't know what I'm doing."

Duo laughs again and says, "Neither do I," causing Heero to laugh also.

Suddenly, there is a knock on the door and both men look nervously at the sound, then back at each other.

"Should we pretend we aren't here?" Duo asks in a whisper.

"I don't-"

Another knock, then a voice, "Duo?  Heero?  Are you in there?  I heard someone laughing."

"Quatre?!" Duo squeaks.

"Oh, thank heavens!  Can I come in?"

"Uh…"  Duo and Heero hurriedly get off of the bed and approach the door, Duo buttoning his shirt on the way while Heero checks them both over for signs of their previous engagement.  All clear, Heero pulls open the door to look into apologetic blue-green eyes.  "Hello, Quatre."

Quatre smiles warmly, not noticing - or simply ignoring – his friends' flushed faces and nervous behavior.  "I was just walking back to my room and I heard voices, so I though it had to be you.  When did you get here?"

Duo leans casually against the doorframe and answers, "A few hours ago."

"That long?!" Quatre exclaims, frowning, and looks around as if searching for someone.  "Why wasn't I told?"  Looking back at his friends, he adds, "Why didn't you try to find me?"

Duo and Heero blink dumbly at their friend before Heero informs him, "We did, but were unable to locate you."

"Yeah, man," Duo adds, "We figured that you just didn't want to be found."

Quatre frowns more and takes a better look at the men before him.  "Was I disturbing something?  Your faces are both flushed."

"That's not going to work this time, Winner," Heero insists.  "Oh," he says, turning to Duo, "I forgot.  Trowa is waiting downstairs with macaroni and cheese.  We made enough for ten people, so I figured that it would be okay to let you eat with us rather than after.  Even you can't eat the much."

Duo glares.  "Thanks, Yuy.  Thanks a bunch."

Looking back to Quatre, Heero asks, "Do you like macaroni?"

"Eh?  Umm… yeah, but I don't – I already-"  Before Quatre can finish excusing himself from dinner, his stomach growls loudly, making him blush.

"Come on, Quat," Duo says, "You can never have too much macaroni and cheese.

The blond smiles shyly and follows his friends downstairs and to the kitchen where Trowa sits with a fork full of yellow, cheesy goodness halfway to his open mouth.  Seeing Quatre, he stands abruptly, dropping his fork and effectively getting cheese on his shirt.

Duo covers his mouth and turns back around to hide a laugh.  Heero stops him from going into the living room, showcasing an amused smirk of his own.  "Couldn't wait, could ya, Tro?"

Trowa blushes and anxiously looks around for something to clean his shirt with.  "I - ah - sat here smelling it and – uh-"  Looking back at his friends, he smiles with embarrassment.  "I couldn't resist."  He reaches up with his hand and scratches the back of his head, laughing.

"Here, Trowa," Quatre offers, holding out a towel to the tall man.  The performer can only stare at the proffered item, so the blond starts wiping at the man's chest himself.  Quatre winces as his actions only smear the mess more.  "Oh, I'm so sorry!"

Trowa blushes, watching Quatre's face as he swipes at his shirt and doesn't notice the worsening stain.  When he finally looks down, he can only laugh more.

Duo and Heero watch their friends with mild amusement.  The Japanese man sees an opening and goes for it.  "Quatre, you should get Trowa another shirt."

"Don't worry about it," Trowa says, "I have an extra shirt upstairs."  He starts to walk toward the stairs, but Duo stops him.

"Well, wait!  Quatre, you're the host!  You should at least show him where he can clean up!"

"Duo, I've been here more than once before.  I know where things are," Trowa assures, giving the American a more than puzzled look.

"But-"

"It's all right," Quatre interrupts, "I'll just get you a towel while you change."  He quickly heads upstairs, followed by Trowa who turns to give the two remaining boys another strange look.  He and the blond separate at the top and then meet again at Trowa's door.  Quatre gets there before the performer can dig deep enough in his duffel bag for his shirt, so the tall man is still in his stained shirt.

"Here you go," Quatre says, giving Trowa a clean bath towel, and smiles slightly.

"Thanks."  Trowa walks back into his room, pulling off his shirt.  He goes into the small washroom adjoining his room and washes his face.  Going to his bed, he starts to pull things out of his bag, trying to find his errant shirt.  Not finding it, he goes to the dresser and looks through the drawers.  "Damn… Where did I put it?"

Quatre watches in silence as Trowa continues to search drawers and on the floor, under the bed.  Feeling a bit useless, he looks around uncomfortably, a nervous hand rising to rub his elbow.  His eyebrows knit and he bites his bottom lip.

Trowa sighs irritable, throwing his hands up in frustration.  Looking to Quatre, he says, "I don't know where I put it."

The blond looks up quickly.  "Oh, well, maybe Heero or Duo have an extra shirt," he suggests.

"I don't think they'd have me size."

"Neither would I," Quatre says, disappointed.

"It's all right.  I can wear a cheese stain tonight."

"But… Umm, Trowa, I have a couple of my dad's old shirts.  They might be a little musty; no one has worn them since…"  Quatre looks down and loosely wraps his arms around himself.

Trowa frowns and walks up to the blond.  "Are you sure it's okay?"

Quatre abruptly turns and walks out, saying, "Yeah."

Both men cross the hall to Quatre's room.  Once inside, the blond goes directly to his closet, stepping inside and disappearing into a sea of hangers and cloth.  Trowa watches in interest as he hears a few rustles.  When he hears a muffled "ow," he quickly approaches the doors Quatre had vanished through.  "Quatre?  Are you alright?"

A few more rustles are heard and the Arabian emerges with two shirts.  He holds them up and smiles sheepishly.  "Here you go.  I brought out two colors.  I know you don't usually wear white, but that's mostly what dad wore.  And I found this blue one."

Trowa takes the shirts, scrutinizing Quatre's face.  "I heard you says 'ow.'"

"Oh.  Uh…" Quatre laughs embarrassedly.  "I just hit my head on the pole thing in there."

"Pole thing?" Trowa asks incredulously.

"You know, the pole that the hangers hang on," Quatre answers, blinking innocently.

Trowa laughs.  "Yeah, I know.  I think I'll go with the white."  He hands back the blue shirt and watches as Quatre puts it back in the closet.

When Quatre comes back, Trowa is still standing there, shirtless, and watching him.  "It'll be a little big, I think."

Distractedly, Trowa pulls the shirt on.  The blond is right.  The sleeves hang a couple of inches past his fingertips and the shirt itself drapes loosely halfway down his thighs.  He holds up his arms and watches as the cuffs fold down over his hands.

Quatre laughs lightly and approaches his friend.  Pensively reaching for Trowa's sleeves, he begins to roll one cuff up to rest on the taller man's thin wrist.

Trowa closely watches the blond move to his other cuff.  As the sleeve is deftly rolled, the performer blushes and lowers his head.

Quatre finishes and looks into the tall man's eyes.  "There."

"I've been avoiding you," Trowa admits out of nowhere.

"You look good in white."

"I haven't been a good friend to you."

"You should wear it more often."

"I want you to know-"

"I want you to keep it," Quatre says quickly, not letting Trowa finish, and grips the other man's shirt lightly in his hands.

"Trowa's eyes widen.  "What?"

Quatre stares forward into the taller man's chest, seemingly concentrating hard on one of the buttons of his father's shirt.  "It's a good shirt, worn by a good man.  It shouldn't sit ignored in my closet."

"Quatre-"

"I don't want you to apologize anymore!"  Quatre pushes himself forward, wrapping his arms around Trowa's neck and pulling himself close.  Then he whispers into his ear, "Let me give something of mine to you."

Trowa pulls away, keeping the blond at arm's length.  "I'm wearing it.  Thank you."  He turns to walk out of the room, but at the doorway he looks back and says, "Duo and Heero wanted to throw you a bachelor party, but we couldn't find you.  So, come back down and spend time with you friends."  He walks away, tucking in his shirt as he goes, enjoying the feel of the expensive fabric under his fingers.

~+~+~

"Heero," Duo says carefully.

"Hnn."  Heero takes another bite of macaroni off of his plate, glaring at the American all the while.

"I didn't mean to."

"Hnn."  Finishing his serving, Heero takes his plate to the sink and rinses it off.

Duo carefully watches the Japanese man walk, paying close attention to his black slacks.  When his boyfriend turns to him again, he is faced with a large wet spot on the front of Heero's pants.  He grimaces.  "I tripped?"

Heero sighs loudly.  "It's okay.  It's fine.  This just means that we can't go out.  These are the only pants I brought besides the tux for the wedding."

"But, you won't even be able to see it when it dries!"  Duo tries giving his sad eyes, but it doesn't work.

"I am NOT going anywhere with a wet lap!" Heero yells.  In a soft mumble, he adds, "You just had to have milk."

"Sorry…"  Duo looks down at his recently emptied glass and frowns.

Quatre and Trowa return to the kitchen, stopping in their tracks when they see Heero's damp pants and Duo's forlorn look.

"What happened?" Quatre asks, rushing over to Heero.

"Our plans are shot, that's what," Duo answers bitterly.  "Sorry, Quat, my fault."  Standing, he grabs a handful of paper towels.  "I'll clean up the floor.  Heero, you can borrow my pajama bottoms."

Heero nods stiffly and exits the room.  Trowa gives him a questioning glance, but it goes unanswered.

From his kneeling position on the floor, Duo says, "I'm sorry, Quatre.  Tonight's been one mess after the other.  We were gonna take you out somewhere for a bachelor party of some sort, but it's all fallen through."  Looking up, he smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes.  "Hope you don't mind hangin' around here with a bunch of screw ups to celebrate your marriage."

Quatre doesn't answer – can't answer – but won't look away from his friend.  Feeling a hand on his shoulder, he turns to find Trowa holding tow plates of macaroni awkwardly balanced on one arm.

"Hungry?"  Green eyes smile as the blond takes a plate timidly and sits at the table to eat.  Trowa takes a seat next to him and carefully serves the food into his mouth, not wanting to repeat his earlier mishap and ruin a very important shirt.

Duo finishes with the floor and throws away the towels.  He watches his friends eat for a moment, but can keep quiet for only so long.  "Tro, that shirt looks good on you.  Where'd you get it?"

Without looking up, Trowa answers, "Quatre's closet."

The American stares blankly.  "Huh?  It looks kinda big."

Trowa looks to Quatre to answer, but the blond stays silent and continues to daintily pick at his food.  "It was his father's."

Silence reigns as Duo sits across from his friends.

Heero returns, now wearing black flannel pants.  He retrieves his seat next to Duo, not making a sound.  In fact, no one makes a sound.

Trowa and Quatre finish their meals and clear their plates and forks from the table.  They sit back down, but nobody says anything.  For what seems like hours, the proverbial tumbleweed rolls back and forth in the foreground until Quatre breaks the silence.

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Everyone jumps at the sudden scream and stares wide-eyed at the blond Arabian.

When finished, Quatre leans back in his chair with a contented sigh, looking utterly relaxed, and smiles.  "I needed that."

Duo, still slack-jawed from shock, exclaims, "Jeez, Winner!  Give me a coronary why don'tcha!"

Heero laughs lightly and gets up.  As he passes behind Duo's chair, he grabs the man's chestnut braid and pulls him into the living room where they relax once more into the big, fluffy couch.  Trowa and Quatre follow suit – Trowa falling into the recliner and Quatre sitting on the arm of the sofa.

Heero puts an arm around Duo's shoulder and pulls him close, kissing the American's temple when near enough.  They both smile and enjoy the moment, but, seeing their friends' uncomfortable postures, pull apart and sit straight.

Trowa clears his throat, attracting attention to himself, but shakes his head to indicate that he has nothing to say.  Duo and Heero look away, but Quatre keeps his eyes on the brunette.  The silence is awkward, making everyone fidget.

"So, Trowa," Quatre tries.

The performer looks up curiously.

"Was your trip here okay?"  Cobalt and violet eyes focus once again on the tall man.

"Yeah."  Trowa clears his throat again.  "It was long, but I slept the entire time."

"Oh, that's nice."

"Yeah."

Quatre smiles warmly and stands up.  "Does anyone want any ice cream?  We only have vanilla, but I might find some chocolate sauce hiding somewhere."

"No thanks, Quat," Duo says, "I can't afford to spill anything more."

Quatre's smile falter as Heero nods his agreement.  He turns to Trowa hopefully, but gets another negative answer.  "Oh," he says, a small smile forced on his face, "Well, I'll just get some for myself, then."

As Quatre leaves for the kitchen, the three remaining men exchange guilty glances.

"Trowa, do something!" Duo demands.

"Me?  What am I supposed to do?" Trowa asks, shocked.

"Cheer him up!"

"How am I supposed to do that?" Trowa whispers angrily, leaning forward slightly.

"Go in there and tell him you changed your mind."

At Duo's suggestion, Heero nods.  Trowa glares.  "You're the one who refused first," he argues, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"Trowa," Heero joins in, "It doesn't matter who said what first.  It has to be you.  That's just the way it is."

Still glaring at his friends, Trowa huffs, but stands and leaves for the kitchen.  There, he finds Quatre kneeled on top of the counter, digging through a cupboard.  "Quatre?"

The blond Arabian starts at Trowa's voice, hitting his head on the shelf he had been peering under.  "Ow…"  He looks over his shoulder, rubbing his bump with a hand.  "Yeah?"

Trowa smiles absently and walks up behind the blond.  "Do you need some help?"

"Oh, no!  I was just looking for the chocolate sauce," Quatre answers, poking his head back into the cabinets.

"Are you sure you have any?"

"Not really, but it can't hurt to look."

"It already has," Trowa mumbles.

"Huh?" Quatre asks abruptly, hitting his head again.  "Ow.  I gotta stop doing that."

"Quatre, come down from there," Trowa orders gently, resting a hand on the blonde's back.  "You've lost at least a thousand brain cells tonight hitting your head on things."  When Quatre doesn't move, Trowa pulls on one of his arms, bringing the smaller man out of the cupboard carefully.  He helps him down to the floor and brushes his blond strands back to inspect his forehead.  "Damn, Quatre.  You're going to have a bump on the noggin for your wedding if you aren't careful.  It's already plenty red."

Quatre blushes and looks away, raking his bangs back over his eyes.  "I want ice cream, but I can't find any chocolate," he says, whining like a five-year-old.

Trowa swipes at the blonde's bangs again, still holding onto his arm.  "Couldn't you just have plain vanilla?"

The Arabian takes a deep breath and sighs.  "I suppose."  Taking the small ice cream container out of the freezer, he proceeds to scoop out some into a bowl he had retrieved earlier.

Trowa sets another bowl next to the blonde's and asks, "May I have some, too?  I changed my mind."

Quatre looks up, surprised, and give a small smile.  "Okay."

Ice cream served up, the two young men sit closely together on the countertop, slowly spooning at their desserts.

"So, is chocolate your favorite topping?" Trowa asks.

"Mmm… but it's best if you have marshmallows, too."

"Ah."  Trowa takes another spoonful.

"What about you?"

"Chocolate with… caramel."

"That sounds good.  What about pizza?"

"Pizza?  Uh… sausage with red hot peppers."

"Bleah.  Hot peppers?" Quatre says, sticking out his tongue in disgust.

Trowa laughs.  "I didn't think you would go for that.  You seem like a sweet person."  Two sets of eyes widen and cheeks stain pink.  "I mean, you – uh – you seem like a sweets person.  You like sweet things… as opposed to hot things.  Spicy… things."

Quatre continues to look, wide-eyed, at the tall man, not saying anything.  Trowa refuses to meet his gaze.  "I like hot things."

Trowa suddenly raises his eyes, seeing a hint of innuendo in sea-blue.  "Oh."

Quatre looks away, face flushed more than ever before.  He sets his bowl down next to him on the counter and scoots closer to Trowa until their thighs touch.  He turns back to the other man.  "Trowa?"

The performer is blushing furiously, but it can't be seen because of his bangs.  "I told you before, I can't-"

"Thank you for a wonderful bachelor party."  With that, Quatre leans toward the other man, pulling his face around to him, and kisses his lips softly.

Trowa's eyes stay open, but not for very long as the blond brings their lips closer together, circling his arms around the taller man's neck.  Trowa loses focus and gives in to Quatre's advances, discarding his bowl of ice cream and placing his hands about the other's waist.  Their mouths move together in perfect unison until Trowa gives into his desire and pushes his tongue into the Arabian's mouth, eliciting a gasp and then a soft moan.

Trowa tugs on Quatre's sides, silently begging to be closer to him, but they can only get so close when sitting side by side.  The tall man pulls back from the kiss, breathing deep, and hops off the counter.

Before Quatre can worry about the other man leaving, Trowa faces him and pulls them together again, positioning himself between the blonde's legs.  Their lips are smashed together once again, and their arms wrap possessively around each other.

This time, Quatre is the one to break the kiss, but Trowa doesn't let him get far, running his mouth along the blonde's jaw line to linger on his earlobe.  Suckling gently, Trowa rubs small circles on Quatre's back, not helping the shorter man to breath any easier despite the comforting gesture.

Quatre runs his hands through brown hair, squeezing lightly on occasion.  Trowa moves down to the blonde's neck while simultaneously pressing him forward at the small of his back and undoing the buttons at the top of his shirt.

Trowa breathes deeply, trying to memorize Quatre's scent.  Memorize because he won't be able to…

"Oh, god!" Trowa suddenly exclaims, pulling away from the flushed man on the counter.  Harsh breathing fills the air as the two young men stare silently at each other.

"Trowa?" Quatre asks, sounding almost like a frightened child.

"I can't," Trowa says, "We can't.  We shouldn't!  Damn it, Quatre, look at us!  Damn it all!" he yells, turning his back angrily.

Quatre reaches out to touch the other man's shoulder, squeezing softly when he makes contact.  "Trowa."

Trowa's body visibly sags.  He turns his head only enough so that he can see Quatre in his peripheral vision.  "I'm sorry.  I'll see you tomorrow."

"Wait, Trowa!"  Quatre slides off of the countertop and follows Trowa as he goes into the living room and toward the stairs.  Duo and Heero are still on the couch, cuddling while watching television.  They turn around at their friends' return.  Their eyes widen at the sight:  Trowa's messed up hair and Quatre's open shirt.  They watch the blond trail Trowa closely, making several attempts in vain at stopping his progress upstairs.

"Trowa, stop!!" Quatre screams, half begging.

Trowa finally stops turning around to face his friend.  "I promised myself, Quatre!  I promised Cathy!"  Walking back down the few steps he made, he inches toward Quatre, leaning down far enough that their faces are so close, their noses almost touch.  "I can't let myself want you anymore."  He turns to walk away, but a thin hand forces his shoulder back around.

"What about what I want?!" Quatre demands.  "I've dreamt of being with you for months!  I want to be selfish.  I want you to be selfish.  Trowa, take what you want.  Now."  He glares, offering a challenge to dark green eyes.

Trowa answers with an empty gaze, forces the blonde's hands off of him, and goes up to his room.

Quatre is left to stand, staring after the tall man.

Heero and Duo avert their gaze, pretending to watch an action movie on TV.

Without making a sound, the Arabian walks up the stairs to his own room.  A few mumbled curses can be heard from the couch.

~+~+~

The next morning, Duo and Heero wake up comfortably tangled together on one of their beds.  Cobalt eyes open first, drowsy yet alert, followed by droopy violet.  Lids open and close slowly, letting their owners catch momentary glimpses of the other.

Finally able to keep his eyes open, Duo smiles sloppily at his bedfellow.  In a groggy voice, he says, "Good morning."

Heero returns the smile and the greeting warmly, lifting a hand and rubbing the other man's cheek.  He breathes deeply, edging closer to Duo, and wraps his arms around him tightly.

Duo allows himself to be pulled close and presses his face into the Japanese man's chest.  "Heero," he murmurs softly.

"Mmm…"

"Can we stay here forever?" Duo asks, sliding his hands up and down Heero's strong back.  His only answer is a breath-taking embrace, ending with the American underneath the other.  Their lips become as tangled as their limbs had been when they first woke up.  When Heero pulls back, he is all mouth – red, full, and open.  "Get up, Duo," he whispers.

Duo, with swollen lips of his own, stares, not comprehending at first.  He tries to bring Heero back down into another kiss, but the Japanese man won't budge.  He pouts, but only succeeds in separating their bodies further.

Heero rolls off of Duo and slides out of their bed sheets, shivering when the cool morning air hits his bare arms.  Wearing a black tank top and Duo's pajama bottoms, he goes into their private washroom, closing the door behind him.

Soon after Heero disappears through the door, Duo gets up, kicking up his knees when his bare feet touch the cold wooden floor.  "Ai!  Heero, I want my pants back!" he yells in the other man's general direction.  As he looks through his dresser drawers, he mumbles to himself, "It's fine under the covers, but I don't like walking around in just a shirt so early in the morning, especially when I get nothin' for it."  Slamming the drawers closed, Duo stomps over to the closet and pulls out several hangers, each with covers over the clothing.

Heero come out of the bathroom as Duo throws the clothes on the bed.  He frowns, brow scrunching up.  "Duo, what are you doing?"

"Setting out our tuxes."

"We don't have to dress in those for at least…"  Heero looks around for a clock, but doesn't see one.  "At least… hours?"

"It's eleven o'clock," Duo informs his boyfriend, looking at him sternly.  "We have to leave in just over two hours."

Heero frowns, his brow creasing.  "You're mad at me," he states flatly.

"No, not mad," Duo says.  "Disappointed, maybe, but not mad.  Do you want to change here or later at the church?"

Before Heero can answer, there is a knock on the door.  The Japanese man opens it, finding Rashid.  "Good morning," he says, staring blankly at the large man.

"Are you and Master Duo ready to go?" Rashid inquires uncertainly, not taking in Heero's attire until after he finishes his question.

"No," Heero answers shortly and shuts the door in the Arabian's face.

Rashid doesn't let the closed door deter him and starts to bellow through it.  "We are expected for rehearsal in a half hour!  Master Quatre is already there.  The rest of the wedding party has been sent ahead.  Everyone will be waiting on you!"

"All right already!" Duo exclaims, opening the door in a wild gust, the breeze sweeping back the tall Arabian's hair.  "We'll be ready in a few.  Just give us a minute to change into your tuxes."  Duo moves to close the door again, but Rashid stops him.

"You can change there.  I'll be leaving in five minutes.  Meet me downstairs."

Duo watches the tall man's back as he walks away, returning to the room only when he is out of sight.  When he goes back inside, Heero is already dressed in a t-shirt and his tux pants and is in the process of putting on socks and shoes.  Seeing that his boyfriend is almost ready to go, Duo starts to rush around to prepare himself.  Once he is dressed in jeans and a button-up shirt, Duo reaches for his brush, but Heero stops him.

"You can do that after the rehearsal.  We have to go, Mr. Best Man."

The title makes Duo smile, inclining him to kiss his boyfriend on the cheek.  He grabs his brush, sticks it in his pocket, and opens the top dresser drawer to grab the most important items of the day:  the rings.  Holding up the small, red, velvet box in his hand, he grins and says, "Can't forget these."

Heero gives a small smile, handing Duo his jacket and leads him out the door.  "Show time."

~+~+~

The ride to the church is uneventful and quiet for everyone, no matter which way they travel.  The arrival, however, is another story.  St. Michael's Cathedral, the oldest and, by far, the largest church on L-4, stands tall in the cityscape, but somehow appears dwarfed by the crowded mass surrounding its lot.  Newscasters are clustered at the front of the crowd, screaming at anyone who looks like someone to answer their questions, related to the wedding or not.  So far, they have gone unsatisfied.

Quatre and Jenna have been at the church since early morning, having predicted that a similar circus may arise.  Unfortunately, they did not share any pearls of wisdom with anyone else.

Duo and Heero arrive last in one of a long line of limos.  Their eyes widen and jaws drop when they catch sight of the mob.  As soon as the car stops, a swarm surrounds them, demanding answers to their various and petty questions.  A security detail, not nearly large enough, arrives, pushing the forceful crowd back in order to let the pilots into the sunlight.  Once the two young men step out, they are blinded by flashes and small, red camera lights.  They slowly make their way to the large cathedral doors, grateful for the barriers set up to keep the crowd off of the stone steps.  Before opening the doors to go in, Duo turns around, flashing his trademark grin, and waves enthusiastically for the cameras.  Heero glares, first at the American, then at all the women screaming.  He hurriedly grabs Duo's hand, trying to pull him away from all of the attention, but the braided man resists, saying, "Here's your chance, Yuy," into the man's ear.

Heero's eyes widen with realization at the American's meaning.  His promise.  Summoning a gargantuan helping of courage, he forces Duo toward him.  Cradling the other man's face in one hand and pressing the small of his back with the other, Heero takes his mouth hard.  The world watches as Heero Yuy French kisses Duo Maxwell on the steps of the biggest Catholic Church in space.  The mob screams even louder, some angry, some ecstatic, at the romantic display.  Some news people try to get at the couple, but the police keep them at bay.

When Duo and Heero separate, the rest of the universe doesn't exist, and they smile.  Heero takes the other man's hands in his own and squeezes.  "I love you."

"I love you, too."  The young men lead each other inside, ignoring the calls they receive from the outside.  Behind the heavy doors, most of the sound is dampened and they breathe a sigh of relief.  Duo nudges Heero in the side and winks.  "Let's go find everyone."

~+~+~

In a small room, normally used as an office, Quatre stands deathly still in front of a small mirror hanging on the wall, critically scrutinizing his appearance.  He is already dressed in his black designer tuxedo, red satin cummerbund, and red-rose boutonniere.

"Well, dad, here I am, about to get married."  Quatre tentatively touches the small, gold embellishments on his sleeves.  "I'm wearing your cufflinks that you wore when you married mom.  Give me strength."  Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath and walks out of the room.  Halfway down the hall, he realizes that he isn't wearing shoes.  He hurries back into his dressing room and grabs his old oxfords.  When he goes back out to the hallway, he runs into Duo and Heero.

"Hey, Quatre!"  Duo waves excitedly and hurries to his friend, leaving Heero behind.  "You on your way to the sanctuary?"

"Yeah."  Quatre's grip on his shoes tightens, but he forces his hand to let go and drops them to the floor, sliding his feet inside.  "Do you have the rings?"

"In my pocket.  I haven't yet, but can I look at them?" Duo asks eagerly, making the blond laugh.

"Sure."

Duo quickly extracts the small box from his jacket and opens it.  His face falls immediately.  "Uh, Quat?  Is his her ring?" he asks, holding up a thin silvery band.

Quatre takes the ring between his thumb and index finger.  "Yeah, this is it."

"It looks exactly like yours," Heero says from behind Duo's shoulder.

"Yeah."

"Does she know about this?"

"Yeah.  She spied on me when I bought them."  Quatre hands the ring back to Duo and walks off, leaving his friends to stare dumbly after him.

Heero leans close to Duo's ear from behind.  "He doesn't seem right."

Duo nods mutely, placing the ring back into the box carefully, and walks after the blond.

Heero soon follows and hears the American mumble, "Of course he doesn't."

~+~+~

Quatre arrives at the sanctuary where everyone besides his friends in the hall is waiting.  The wedding party looks at him expectantly and he smiles lifelessly.

Duo and Heero enter shortly after the blond and they make their way down the long center aisle together.  Up three short steps, they land on the focal point of the wedding – the "stage" in front of the altar and pedestal.  There, Jenna and her bridesmaids stand to the left with the mother of the bride nearby.  On the right, Jenna's father stands with a few distinguished looking young men whom Quatre doesn't recognize.  Quatre counts the bridesmaids to be five.  Next to his two groomsmen, it seems excessive.  Just as the Arabian is thinking this, Jenna's father, a tall, dark, and intimidating man, approaches him.  He holds out his hand to shake, but lowers it when he sees Quatre's confused look.

"Quatre, it is good to see you again.  You're late, but not obtrusively so.  I can see you've noticed the uneven numbers."

"Yes," Quatre replies, misleadingly calm.  "I thought we decided that two people on each side would-"

"Two is such a small and insignificant number for such a grand occasion, so I took things into my own hands, if you don't mind."  Without letting Quatre answer, the man continues, "I would like to introduce you to three associates of mine; fine gentlemen, really high-class people.  I've invited them to be your extra groomsmen.

Quatre's eyes widen and he looks at Jenna in shock, but she averts her gaze in embarrassment.  The other girls giggle annoyingly.  He turns back to her father.  "May I ask what other last minute changes have occurred?"

"Of course!"  The tall man claps Quatre soundly on the back, making him lurch forward slightly.  "About this music that you have selected," he says, placing an arm around the blonde's shoulder and walking around in a slow semi-circle, "All of these romantic titles… completely inappropriate, don't you thing?  I've changed the program to include traditional hymns; pieces that are better suited for the environment.  Also, the ceremony will have to be strictly Catholic.  Muslim words don't have a place here.  That's all, I think," he finishes simply.

"Excuse me, sir, but I am Muslim," Quatre says, once again belying calmness, "And I believe that it is completely within my rights to have at least a partial Muslim ceremony."

"Well, that is your opinion, boy," Jenna's father replies darkly.  "There are far too many people here who would be offended by that sort of thing."

Four jaws drop at the man's bigoted words, but are stopped from saying anything by the mother.  "All right, then!  Why don't we get started?  Jenna, darling, close your mouth like a lady, boys like the gentlemen that I'm sure you are," she adds, turning to Quatre and his friends.  "Everyone who is marching, get to the entrance hall at the back of the sanctuary and listen for your cues!"  She shoos everyone off with practiced precision and takes a seat in the front row of pews on the left side.  "Cue music!" she screams in an unattractive fashion and the organ begins to play.

Quatre stands in front of the altar, rubbing his hands together in frustration and nervousness.  He looks over at Jenna's mother who is glaring at him, willing him to keep his hands at his sides.  He complies begrudgingly and settles on fingering he father's cufflinks.  He closes his eyes and repeats his earlier prayer, "Give me strength."

The rehearsal progresses smoothly from there, all things considered.  Jenna almost trips in her wedding shoes and starts to fret about how she will walk in her dress if she can't even walk while wearing slacks.  Her mother comforts her, of course, but Quatre's continual scowl keeps the girl on edge.

Against the wishes of her parents, Jenna cuts the rehearsal short and everyone returns to their respective dressing rooms, all except Duo, Heero, and Jenna who take the opportunity to confer with the groom.  Quatre speed walks into his room, followed closely by Duo, then Heero, and finally Jenna who shuts the door tightly behind her.

"I can't believe that jerk-" Duo starts to say, but Jenna interrupts him.

"Hey!" she yells, "That's my father you're talking about!"

"Family ties aside, lady!" the American seethes.

"Please don't argue!" Quatre urges.  "The current bad vibes are giving me enough chest pain as it is."  The Arabian sits heavily on a hardwood chair.  Locking eyes with Jenna, he asks, "What happened?  Half of that music was your choice.  We had decided on only two bridesmaids and two groomsmen.  And I thought you understood how important it is to me to have a partially Muslim ceremony.  We agreed, Jenna!"

Brows knitted, Jenna looks to each man, ending on Quatre.  "I'm sorry.  Everything just exploded this morning.  I didn't get a chance to talk to you about any of it.  My father just invited the extra people to come along for the ride.  I don't even know two of the girls.  And I can't apologize enough for what he said about your beliefs.  I hadn't even heard that before you did.  I'm so sorry."  She falls to her knees next to Quatre's chair and takes his hand.  "It's too late to get the Muslim priest back, but if you like, we can have a small, private ceremony later."

"Jenna, that-" Quatre starts, but is interrupted by a knock on the door.  "Come in," the blond calls.

Rashid opens the door, Trowa standing behind him.  Both men are dressed in formal suits, but not tuxes.  Quatre stands and smiles, a small, genuine gesture that puts the room at ease, at least somewhat.  "Master Quatre, Master Trowa asked to let you know that he has arrived.

"Thank you, Rashid," Quatre answers politely.

Rashid and Trowa enter the small room, making it a little crowded.  Trowa maneuvers closer to the blond in the chair, taking note of the girl holding his hand.  "Quatre, are you all right?"

"The Arabian nods slightly, but doesn't offer any other indication his well-being.  "Besides a few critical changes in the program, everything is going fairly well.

"That's not what I asked."

"I'm fine."

Silence pervades and the tension returns, smothering the room's occupants.  Jenna decides to intervene.  "Well, we have an hour.  I'd suggest we all try to relax ourselves to some point.  I'm going back to my room for now.  Quatre, I truly am sorry for what's happened."  With that, she walks out, followed by Duo.  The American signals Heero to stay behind.

As they make their way down the hall, Duo turns to Jenna and asks, "How can you be okay with this?"

Jenna doesn't look back at the American.  "Because I have to be.  You saw my parents.  I have no control"

"You didn't even try in there!" Duo accuses.

Jenna laughs bitterly, returning, "I spent the majority of my teen age years 'trying.'  I got months of house arrest and several threats of disownment.  I'm not prepared to be on my own."

Duo purses his lips, trying to think of a rebuttal, but comes up empty-handed.  Choosing to accept her reply, he switches to a lighter topic.  "Have you seen the rings?"

The girl laughs again, this time with humor.  "Yes.  I'm prepared to accept what comes.  I have been since I saw them a month ago."

Duo scrunches his brow in confusion.  "What's coming?"

Jenna shrugs carelessly, "They look like men's' rings, don't they?"  This makes Duo stop, but the girl continues on.  "Read the inscription.  I'll see you in line."

~+~+~

Still in Quatre's dressing room, Heero, Trowa, Rashid, and Quatre stand in uncomfortable silence.  It cannot be endured for long and the blond steps out with Rashid to find a drinking fountain and to spy on the goings-on outside.  The two young men left behind remain quiet long after the others leave.

When Trowa suggests that Heero also go to his dressing room, the Japanese man glares at him.  The tall man doesn't make any more suggestions.

"What will you do?" Heero suddenly demands, boring into Trowa's eyes with his.

Trowa looks away, his lips thinning to become a single, colorless line.  "I will do nothing."

"Then you are a fool," Heero states and walks rigidly out of the room. 

Trowa watches him go, then follows suit shortly after, making his way to the almost empty sanctuary.  He sits down in the front row on the right side and rests his arms on the short barrier separating the pews from the front part of the church.  He breathes heavily and bows his head, folding his hands together to take on a humble position.

Around him, Trowa can hear people making last minute preparations – adding decorations here and there, picking up stray petals that have fallen off of the flowers that sit and hang everywhere.  He ignores the sounds and concentrates on what he is doing.

Jenna's mother makes a grand entrance into the large, highly decorated hall, sporting a silver-satin dress, sleeveless, long, and conservative to a point.  She runs a bright pink feather boa across her bare shoulders, laughing like a schoolgirl.  She sees Trowa sitting in the front row with his head down and walks up to him.

Trowa tries to ignore the woman's close proximity, hoping that she will leave him alone, but when she doesn't leave after several moments, he gives in to the urge to look up.  He expects to see her smiling in a silly manner, but instead, she has a warm look on her face.  Trowa sees the boa and quirks an eyebrow up at her, making her add a guilty look to her smile.  She quickly takes the pink feathers and rolls them up in her hand.

"I don't believe we've met," the woman says, holding out a dainty hand to Trowa.  He takes it lightly and releases almost immediately.  "I am Linda Carlton, the mother of the bride."

Trowa nods, answering, "Trowa Barton, friend of the groom."

Linda smiles widely.  "I see.  Oh, yes.  Jenna has mentioned you.  I hear that you and Quatre are very close."

Again, Trowa nods, but says nothing.

"I couldn't help but notice you praying.  Are you Catholic?" she asks, seemingly very interested.

"No, but I can't help being somewhat inspired in a place like this."

"Are you a Muslim also, then?" Linda inquires, a bit disappointed.

"No.  I don't have a specific religion," Trowa replies dryly.  "Nor do I pray to a specific god."  The tall man stands, causing the woman to take an intimidated step back.  "Could you tell me where the restroom is?"

~+~+~

An hour passes quickly, too quickly in fact, for Quatre Raberba Winner.  By this time, the blond is standing in front of the church, faced by hundreds of gleaming faces with all eyes on him.  He tries to smile, but can't help feeling a small amount of contempt for several people in the front row, ruining the effect his shining whites usually have on a crowd.  "Give me strength," he mumbles to whoever is listening.  'Hopefully the cameras didn't catch that.'  Thinking this, the blond allows himself to imagine the consequences of that actually happening…

Angry parents whisk their daughter away…

Trowa comes to comfort me…

We go to my bedroom and make love until death do us part…

Organ music interrupts his short reverie and Quatre is forced to face the reality of dressed up couples marching down the center aisle to "traditional" wedding music.  He watches as a little blonde girl, Jenna's cousin, carries a large basket of rose petals and throws them on the floor.  Duo is next in line with his marching partner, followed by Heero, then the other men who nobody knows but the father of the bride.  Quatre keeps a chuckle to himself at Heero's sidelong glare directed at the bridesmaid clinging to his arm.

Duo and Heero line up behind Quatre, the American giving the blond a pat on the back.  Looking to the mother of the bride, they see a glare at the unnecessary contact in front of all of the influential people present.  Duo grins brightly, earning a few chuckles from the guests of good humor.  Quatre can't help turn and smile at his friend.  Turning back to the audience, the Arabian makes eye contact with Trowa in the front row.  He gasps slightly at the completely vulnerable look on the other man's face.  Green eyes look confused, worried, and utterly lost.  Quatre braves a small smile to his friend, but feels bad for not being completely sincere.  After all, he is still suffering from the effects of his "bachelor party" and can't do anything about it.

Trowa and Quatre are both surprised as the music changes into a definite bridal march and they look up the aisle to see Jenna in her full gown and vale being guided by her father.  Quatre swallows, being more afraid now than he has ever been before, even during the wars.  The closer the girl gets, the more the blond feels like collapsing.  He can feel her eyes on him.  He can feel her parents' eyes on him.  He looks once more to Trowa, feeling for his father's cufflinks.  He finds green eyes boring into him and he chokes on air.  Quatre coughs a little, doing his best not to make a scene.  Duo pats his back and rubs alternately.  Luckily, the other guests are so enraptured by the bride that they don't notice.

Soon enough, Jenna reaches the steps and climbs carefully, supported by her father's arm.  The dark man glares at Quatre for not stepping down to help his daughter, but the blond is frozen in his spot.  When Jenna reaches the altar, across from him, she smiles through her vale and reaches out for his hand, squeezing lightly before letting go.  Quatre offers a small smile, taking her vale and lifting it over her artfully fixed-up raven hair.  She smiles again and turns with him toward the waiting priest.

The long service commences, everyone waiting patiently for the end to come where the long-awaited kiss will be.  But before that can come, the dreaded question:  "If any have reason as to why these two should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace."

Quatre tenses at the silence that answers, jumping slightly as someone in the back sneezes.  His brows knit and he turns his bead slightly to his friends behind him.

Duo is frowning, as is Heero.  The Japanese man looks sharply at Trowa who immediately looks at his hands in his lap, idly playing with a fingernail.  Cobalt eyes narrow, hands clenching and releasing slowly and dangerously.  All people in Heero's line of sight begin to cower and slink away from the tall man under his scrutiny.  Duo clears his throat, then again, louder.  Looking up, the two men see that the priest's eyes are on them, along with most of the first four rows.  They both blush.  Trowa abruptly stands, but can't move beyond that point.  He hears several gasps and then the priest's voice.  "Do you have something to say, young man?"

Now, all eyes are on him and him alone.  Trowa looks fearfully at the extravagantly adorned old man, unable to speak.  He turns to leave, but Heero rushes to him and grabs his shoulder, painfully forcing him around, and glares at him.  "Trowa.  You can't leave."

The tall man frowns, saying, "This is not my place, Heero."

The Japanese man's eyes narrow further and he seethes, "Don't be a coward, Barton!"

Trowa violently rips his shoulder out of the strong man's grasp.  "I am not a coward!  I just can't be here!  How can I watch this?!"  He makes to leave, but Heero stops him again.

"I have never been so ashamed to call you friend!" Heero shouts.  Turning to Quatre, he adds, "The same for you, Winner!  You are both pathetic!"

Seeing the blond man's expression change from surprised to humiliated, Trowa's anger rises.  "How dare you speak to him that way!  What right do you have-"

Trowa is cut off as a fist flies against his jaw, throwing him into a guest sitting nearby.  The performer pushes himself off of the frightened man, charging at his attacker only to be kicked to the ground and getting the wind knocked out of him.

Duo runs to Heero's side just as the Japanese man is about let another punch go.  The American grabs the other man's arm and pulls him back.  "Heero!  Stop!  You're seriously hurting him!"  Heero turns angrily on his boyfriend, but stops, the fire in his eyes dimming considerably.  He cautiously looks to Trowa who has since sat himself up against one of the pew sides, breathing hard and not making a move to get up.

Trowa runs a shaking hand through his hair and winces as a hand appears in front of him.  Duo offers to help the injured man to his feet.

The three men in the wide center aisle look around to see everyone watching them, horrified.  Duo scratches his head and grins, turning around in a circle and apologizing.

Trowa turns toward the altar, seeing Quatre's look of incredible concern and looks away immediately.  Heero and Duo each grab one of his arms and pull him to stand directly in front of Quatre, back to the audience.  The blond stares up at Trowa's face, but green eyes still won't rise.  Everyone is the hall is completely silent.

"Trowa…"  Quatre raises a hand to Trowa's arm and pulls on his sleeve lightly, still not getting a response.

"Quatre?" Jenna says, unsure of what to do about the large, uncomfortable group watching them.

Quatre ignores her.  "Trowa, look at me."

Trowa doesn't answer, but looks at him sadly, and then turns away, passing a still angry Heero, who grabs his arm.  "I'm already bleeding, Heero."

"Good."

Duo steps in again, resting a hand on each of their shoulders.  "Heero, don't.  Trowa, you're staying," he orders, pushing the tall man back toward Quatre, communicating a silent threat through burning violet eyes.  Looking back to the blond, he says, "Listen, Quat, I'd better get Heero out of here."

"But, Duo-" Quatre argues.

"Don't," Duo interrupts him.  "Look, I'm sorry, but I agree with Heero on this.  You say you're doing this for family, and that's admirable, but at the same time, you're being a coward.  I mean, what would your dad… sorry."  Looking at Quatre's hands and the cufflinks they are playing with, he adds, "You should take those off… you don't deserve them."  With that, he leads Heero out of the church, heads turning back to the front as soon as they are gone.

At Duo's last words, Quatre collapses onto the floor, knees slamming onto the thin carpet.  His breathing becomes erratic and tears start spilling out of his eyes.  Jenna kneels down next to him, trying to comfort him, but he shrugs her off.

Trowa watches, lost on what to do.  He approaches the blond tentatively, crouching down in front of him.  Placing his hand on the other man's shoulder, he leans forward and says, "Quatre, I'm sorry."

Quatre looks up at his friend, short breaths racking his lungs.

Jenna watches all of this, getting angrier at the situation as it continues on.  Finally, she tells Trowa, "Stop apologizing and do something!"

Trowa looks at her, shocked, but turns right back to Quatre.  With his lips set in a determined line, he holds the blonde's arms in his hands and says quietly, "I object."

Quatre barely has time to register the words or react to them as Trowa leans forward and kisses him soundly on the mouth.  He tastes blood where the tall man's lip split from Heero's punch, but doesn't pull away.  He returns the kiss enthusiastically, wrapping his arms around the other man's neck, satisfied at all of the shocked gasps and whispers spreading throughout the sanctuary.

Jenna falls hard on her backside, cushioned by the long trail of lace and silk underneath her.  She smiles and breathes a sigh of relief.  But when she looks at her parents, she finds two frighteningly angry people.  Red-faced, her father stands in front of everyone and charges at the embracing couple.  "What do you think you're doing?!"

Trowa and Quatre ignore him, being too wrapped up in each other.

When her father reaches to grab one of them, Jenna stops him.  "Daddy!  It's okay," she soothes.  "I've been hoping that this would happen."  His eyes widen at her confession, prompting her to explain.  "They've been in love for a long time, but could never come right out and say it.  And I'm so happy for them," she says, choking on her words as she starts to cry softly.  "Let's go home… please."  Her father is unable to resist her plea and helps her up and out of the church, wife in tow.

~+~+~

The church slowly empties as the guests tire of watching the two young men hold each other.  After an hour, the sanctuary is completely empty, even of cameras, the only remaining witnesses of love being the religious images captured in the stain glass windows.

Eventually, Trowa and Quatre separate, stare, and smile.  Quatre laughs when he thinks of the face that had to have been on the father's face.  He sniffs and closes his eyes, rubbing at his cheeks where his tears have long dried.  Sighing, he looks back at Trowa.  "I don't know what to say."

Trowa smiles slightly and pulls the blond back into a hug.  "You don't have to say anything."  When he releases the other man, he stands.  "I'm in the mood for chocolate and caramel ice cream and apple cider.  Join me?" he asks, holding out his hand to his love.

Quatre smiles, taking the offered hand, and stands, saying, "Forever."

As they walk out, Quatre gasps, stopping in his tracks.  Trowa turns to him, concern shining in his eyes.  "What's wrong?"

The blond looks at him absently.  Shaking his head, he says, "Oh, it's nothing, really.  It's just… Duo still has the rings."

"Maybe he left a note or something in his dressing room or yours," Trowa offers.  "Let's go see."

Quatre nods and they make their way to the small offices.  Going into his room first, they find nothing but his old oxfords and jacket.  The blond discards his shiny black shoes for his broken in browns and they walk together to Duo's dressing room.  Inside, they notice right away that the American left behind his jacket.  Quatre clucks his tongue in disapproval.  Quickly picking up the jacket, he folds it over his arm.  As the piece of clothing is moved around, something comes loose from the pocket and falls to the ground.  It's a small, red-velvet box.

Quatre's mouth drops and he picks up the box.  Opening it, he finds two identical rings inside.  "I don't believe it.  He forgot the rings."

Trowa laughs and takes the rings out.  Looking at them closely, he reads the inscription aloud, "'Perfect duet.  Forever and always.' Quatre… why would you-"

"Wishful thinking, I suppose," Quatre admits.  "They're both inscribed with the same phrase." Quatre takes the rings and looks at them carefully.  "Jenna and I wear the same ring size, but I went ahead and had one made larger so that we could tell the difference somewhat.  Also in case I grew anymore."  He puts the larger ring on his finger, but it slides right off.  He puts the smaller one on and it fits perfectly.

Trowa takes the other ring and looks at it closely.  Curiosity peaked, he slips it on his ring finger where it rests comfortably sound.  He smiles and looks up at Quatre.  "Perfect."

Quatre gazes at the tall man, unable to speak.

"Forever."

"Always."

~fin~