Roommates
Prequel to Mission One
A Gundam Wing Fan Fiction
Frivolously Formulated by The Manwell
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Author's Note: This fiction takes place before Mission One but might make more sense if it's read after Mission One: Chapter 6. Yeah, weird, but there it is. This side-story is rated PG-13 for language, mild violence, adult situations, sexual innuendos, mild homosexuality, and a smattering of angst. The main characters are Trowa Barton and Yokaze Yuy but Duo and Heero make an appearance, as well as Quatre and the entire NW band (yes, you finally get to meet all of them). I hope you enjoy!
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Chapter 1: Momentary Insanity
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The sharp rapport of tempered steel striking tempered steel stings the ears of everyone present. The unseasoned spectators are obvious due to their corresponding tension and flinching. But most members of the audience have already been desensitized to the sound. Yokaze cannot remember a time when the sounds of battle had stirred a visible reaction from her.
She stands, arms crossed and gaze focused completely on the combatants. The two finalists dance over the mat, bodies moving in a rhythm determined by aggression rather than music. Her attention is singular, intense. She misses nothing. Her gaze wanders briefly over the young girl in the white uniform and she fights back a smile.
It's the final round of the Inter Colony Fencing Championship and, if she's not mistaken, her rag-tag little team of clumsy, orphaned misfits from the L2 colony cluster is going to win. The smile pulls a little more doggedly at her mouth as she absorbs this fact with an air of resignation and pride.
Beside her, a dark-haired boy with freckles grins broadly up at his coach. Not bothering to whisper, he says, "We're winning, aren't we?"
She nods. On the mat, Yokaze's most gifted protégé—a young girl with a bushy ponytail—handles her opponent easily as she attempts to coax him into giving her an opening.
A second girl standing beside the be-freckled boy warns with a cheeky grin, "Remember your promise, Yokaze."
The boy smiles broadly, revealing a mouth full of crooked teeth. "Yeah. We won't let you back out now."
Yokaze's jaw tenses as she releases a defeated sigh on her breath. She had promised them. God dammit.
The fencing club had begun as a novelty. Nearly eight months ago, the intermediate self defense class had trickled into the basement gym of Bloom's Academy for the Arts and had witnessed the end of a heated sword fight between Yokaze and Heero. Thus the obsession with fencing had begun. And Yokaze had found herself the reluctant coach of the academy's newest club.
Her promise to them had been just as spontaneous as their inexplicable interest in sword fighting. At the time, it had seemed such a sure thing. At the time, the collection of rough, rowdy, squabbling junior high school students hadn't been able to distinguish the business end of the foil from the pommel much less wield it with any skill. Yokaze almost shakes her head in wonderment. What a difference a little bribery makes...
The buzzer sounds. The final match is over. The results are in. Yokaze's students—the underdogs, the unheralded darkhorses—are the victors.
Pushing her mask off of her face, the girl who'd just won the title pants out, "Now it's your turn, Yokaze." She grins. Hugely. "You've got three weeks to train."
Yokaze's eyes narrow at her fearless smile. Three weeks... and then Yokaze will fulfill her promise: she will enter to compete in the Inter Colony Martial Arts Tournament.
She has a lot of work to do.
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Trowa raises a brow as he hears the shrieks of muffled laughter being picked up by Yokaze's vid phone. "I take it they are pleased with themselves?"
Yokaze's mouth finally shifts to reveal the grin she'd been hiding all day. "They ought to be," she tells him. "They placed first."
"Congratulations."
"You don't look surprised."
"Should I be?"
"Aren't you?"
"And if I'm not?"
Yokaze reveals a true grin as she falls into the familiar game: phrasing their contributions to the conversation in the form of a question. "Wouldn't that be a little presumptuous?"
"Do I seem presumptuous?"
"Do you really want me to answer that?"
"Aren't you being a bit pessimistic?"
"Who died and made you Mr. Happy?"
Trowa smiles and a soft chuckle escapes him. "When are you coming home?"
She grins back. "Why do you want to know?"
"Why do you think?"
"Did you rent out my room?"
"Would I do that?"
"Why wouldn't you?"
"Don't you have any faith in me?"
"Faith? What's that?"
"Don't you have a dictionary in your hotel room?"
Her brows arc. "You're suggesting I need one?"
"Does it sound like I'm suggesting?"
"Is it impossible for you to give me a straight answer about anything?"
"Didn't I ask you when you were coming home?"
"Oh, now this is my fault?"
"Why don't you answer the question?"
"And let you win?"
"What's so horrible about that?"
"Are you serious?"
"What do you think?"
A loud crash interrupts their dialog. Yokaze glances over her shoulder at the wall, behind which all of the hyperactive adolescents are tellingly silent. She asks, "Do you think that sounded expensive?"
Mouth curved into a rueful grin, Trowa replies, "Maybe you should go check?"
"Why did I think this trip was a good idea?"
"Momentary insanity?"
"Is that all?"
Trowa reaches forward to touch a fingertip to the vid screen. "I'll see you soon?"
Expression softening, she tells him, "Maybe you could check what time flight 403 gets in?"
He shakes his head. "You're never going to give it up, are you?"
"Do I have to answer that?"
And on that note, the screen goes blank. A small smile still curving his lips, Trowa leans back against the couch and regards the monitor. Although flat blackness stares back at him, he actually sees the ghost image of her that resides in his memory. After nearly four years of being roommates, she can still surprise him.
He glances at the clock and notes the very late hour. Still, he's not mad that she'd called when she had. It hadn't been as if she'd woken him up. His head falls back against the cushions and he closes his eyes. Whenever she's away he finds it difficult to get to sleep. Although now that he's spoken with her, that task doesn't seem like such an enormous obstacle anymore.
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"Can we... rendezvous... Where to? My place, say 2... and we can do anything we wanna do... Ye~ah... Tonight is your night..."
Frozen in the doorway, Trowa pauses in mid-knock. Fist raised and mere inches away from the door frame, he watches his roommate attempt to work the fatigue out of her muscles with a series of stretching exercises. It isn't the exercises themselves that make him pause. Hell, when he'd been an acrobat with the circus, he'd done a similar set himself following every practice and performance. Perhaps it's the fact that she's wearing a black sport bra, a pair of black jogging shorts and nothing else which makes the movements seem something other than utilitarian. Still, it's not as if he's never seen her in this state of undress before. They are sparring partners and roommates. They share the same bathroom for God's sake... So, it's not the clothes, or lack of them, either. His gaze follows the thin wires of the earphones she's wearing. Or perhaps it's the song she's breathing out in her husky voice...
"When you close your eyes... take a minute, take a moment, realize... do you see me when you fantasize?"
Okay, it's definitely the song. His throat tightens at the lyrical inquiry. Trowa shifts on the threshold to the basement gym feeling restless as he feels the blood tingle through the veins and arteries at his wrists. His gaze continues to flow over her figure, wordlessly—and subconsciously—answering her question. Feeling not a little bit unsettled, Trowa considers leaving.
Then, a subtle movement of her body draws his attention. He looks up, meets her gaze...
And feels his body flush as she breathlessly promises, "Tonight'll be your night."
The mask that covers his suddenly dry mouth, tight throat, and tingling skin is firmly in place. He watches as she dials down the volume on the portable music player clipped to her shorts.
"What's up?" she asks and the sound of her voice makes him cross his arms over his chest.
"Dinner's ready," he tells her, voice bland.
She glances at the clock. "No shit?"
His mouth twitches into a small grin. "Not tonight."
Yokaze pauses then grins as she realizes he took her words literally. "Yes, well, there's always tomorrow."
"It'll be your turn," he confirms.
"Lucky you," she replies, climbing to her feet.
Lucky me... he muses silently, still unable to look away from her for more than a moment at a time.
"You're looking a little tense, Tro. Shitty day?"
"Why do you ask?"
She groans. "We're not starting this again, are we?"
"Starting what?"
She levels a glare on him. "Do I have time to take a shower?"
He doesn't reply. He's too busy reminding himself that she's taken a shower hundreds of times in their shared bathroom while he'd been in the apartment. He reminds himself that this time should be no different.
But, somehow, it is.
She shrugs. "Okay. Shower later. But you'd better sit up wind. I reek."
"How long have you been down here?"
She consults the clock again. "Since after the gymnastics class this morning, I think..."
His gaze remains on her as she pulls on her socks and shoes. "You're taking this challenge very seriously."
Yokaze frowns. "Well, I promised, didn't I?"
"You don't sound so sure."
She simply shrugs, slinging her sweat towel over her shoulder.
"Yokaze?"
With a sigh, she replies flatly and succinctly, "I don't belong in that tournament. It was a rash promise I shouldn't have made."
"Why not?"
"Because I'll win because I've been trained to win. Everyone else who enters that ring is there because they bled and ached and strived to get there. I never made that choice."
Eyes narrowed, Trowa tells her, "You made the same choice they did. You signed up for the competition. You'll do the same work they'll do when you're fighting for the title. That's all that matters."
She stares at him for a moment before his words skin in, relaxing her. She nods once, expression soft. "Thank you."
A bit of the tension eeks out of his shoulders. "You're welcome."
For a long moment, neither moves. They simply stare at each other in the empty room. Trowa watches as a question shimmers to life in her eyes. Again, his body reacts by withdrawing further from the strange sensations evoked within it. Arms still crossed over his chest, he observes his roommate's expression as Yokaze takes a deep breath and says, "So what's for dinner?"
He nearly smiles in reply. The questions are still there, unasked. But he relaxes, knowing that she won't ask him about this sudden tension between them... at least not yet.
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~End of Chapter 1~
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Author's Note: The song in this chapter is "Rendezvous" by Craig David. A seriously sweet melodic R&B tune.