Never Stop
By: Vanacorien
Authors notes: Wow!! I got so many reviews for this story I decided to post the second chapter of this rather than the second chap of Q-Chan in wonderland. Don't worry thou, Q-chan in wonderland is still going to be updated before the end of March.
Warning's and Disclaimers: I do not own the gundam wing boys or girls; I jus take them off the shelf and play with 'em for a while. This is glorious yaoi, this also has an R rating for violence, language, sex and or sexual situations, and last but not least some pretty deep angsty stuff. Any questions? Lights, cameras, action!!
Chapter Two of Never Stop: With the dawn comes the light.
He couldn't tell what exactly had awakened him, maybe the smell of the peroxide so close to his head or the soft almost non-existent hum of the radio. When he came to awareness his first questions weren't the normal ones a person would think or feel. No non consequential 'where am I' or how did I get here?' 'S a simple 'why don't I hurt that much?' was the only bat swarming the proverbial bell free.
Slowly he sat up, knowing that after a beating such as he had taken and the time spent out in the rain, he would or should be stiff and achy as all hell. He looked around the room, taking in every thing, it was wide and open not what he had expected to find at his friends house. In fact he knew for a fact that his friend didn't have a single room like this in his little town house.
The walls were painted a deep dark blue, the trim left white to circle the room and give note to the high ceiling painted with a midnight sky and the moon and stars. To his right there was an enormous set of windows covered by plain navy curtains. And the bed he now laid in was king sized, the soft cotton sheet warmed his skin and the deep forest green comforter on the bed broke the strain of blue monotony.
"I see your up." His head shot up immediately and he gave a startled jump. He looked to the door way his eyes catching first on the man's hair. It was cinnamon brown; the pale light showing dimly threw the curtains glowing generously on his locks shining them red and gold in some places. It was long, a bit longer than his in the front, shortened in the back like he wore it. His narrow green eyes one of which was barely visible beneath his bangs were sparkling. He sat and stared for a moment, slightly mesmerized by the man's look. He was tall, probably much taller than him self, his frame was slim but well muscled. He obviously hadn't been up long, he was still wearing his pajama's a pair of black silk pants hanging off of his lean hips, it's mate a black silk top hung open exposing his chest and the slightly tanned skin and muscle.
He was surprised at his own voice, he sounded shaky, unstable. Flashes of what had happened had been swarming around his head sense he'd woken up. The only thing to dispel the warm almost safe feeling he had hidden deep within him. Now they came back only slightly as he tried to remember what part this man had played. "Who are you?" the man snorted a laugh and walked right into the room. Quatra discovered why his eyes had seemed to sparkle as he approached. He was wearing a thin wire frame pair of glasses the silver circles giving him a slight book wormy air. As he approached the bed He sat up straighter in it. Looking a little concerned but not really that frightened.
"That's definitely not the first question I expected to hear." He said calmly, his voice was deep and smooth; it dripped a kind of honey made sweetness that he had never heard before. The man slowly sat on the side of the bed rubbing his hands together and reaching out he touched his face. The boy jumped back cracking his head sharply against the headboard and yipping in pain. Gentle hands came to rest on top of his as they smoothed over the abused patch of skin. He looked into those deep green eyes, feeling a strange calm radiating from them, from him. "Who are you?" He sounded so slightly petulant, no doubt this man thought him a child by now. Or at least childish.
Said man smiled slightly, then turned his face into a mask of stone and moved slightly away from him. "I am Trowa Barton, I'm a doctor at Manhattan hospital. I, well to tell the full truth you crashed into me and shortly there after passed out. I didn't know who you were and instead of going to the hospital, I brought you home and cleaned your wounds." He reached over and picked a small glass thermometer off the surface of the nightstand he hadn't seen. He shook it for a moment and the held it out to him. He accepted it, sliding the cold metal tip under his tongue feeling a slightly nauseas sensation.
"Now, Mr. Winner, or may I call you Quatra?" He looked up sharply his eyes wide. "Mph hmm, humph." The man, Trowa, gave Quatra a semi stern glance his eyes sparkling slightly. "No talking Mr. Winner, not until your time is up." Quatra imagined he made some thing of a glare on his face for the man then laughed his mask breaking slightly to show a beautiful smile. He moved off the bed, and Quatra felt a slight loss of warmth, but didn't miss the gain of personal space, it was a hard tie. "I think you might be more comfortable were your doctor fully clothed, so I'll be right back, and don't take out that thermometer." Trowa walked gracefully from the room then, leaving Quatra to his thoughts.
Trowa walked threw the broad hallway of his apartment towards his laundry room. Not having much time and not by nature being an especially clean person he didn't really bother to fold or put away his clothes. The only clothes he had in his closet were two dress suits, one for weddings and one for funerals and a couple of coats for the changes in season. Coming into the open door he slid the black silk off of his shoulders, not caring that he was stripping in his laundry room, which had more than one bare window. He smiled slightly as he remembered an incident not too long ago. He had bought his small flat in his junior year in college, having been tiered of the dorms and wanting to get out on his own, and had at first not minded the Porte Rican family whom had a similar room right across from his over looking the narrow ally between the two buildings. There was an old widow, and her two youngest daughters who had at the time been 10 and 16. Ha had been out drinking and dancing with two of his collages and had come home smashed. Instead of going to bed however to sleep it off, he had gone into the laundry room where he had a small radio, found an oldies station and began to dance and strip.
The next morning as he was walking out of his building heading to the post office as both young girls ran out side and rushed hurriedly to his side. The 16 year old couldn't help but smile knowingly and make barely veiled remarks concerning his package. While the10 year old wanted to know what had been attacking him and why did he have to have his clothes off while it did it. Needless to say he had been more than a little embarrassed and had to explain to the girl that, nothing had 'attacked' him and he had just gotten done taking a shower and was drying off in a strange way.
Trowa was called back from his musings by a quit cough. He turned around finding the boy, Mr. Winner to be standing quietly in the hallway. The pure beauty that he saw in front of him again froze Trowa. To keep him from getting sick Trowa had changed him as soon as he got home, he had taken his sobbing clothes, placing the shirt aside if the boy wanted it back (thou god knows why any one would want some thing like that) And so all he wore was one of his older brothers stretched out Tee shirts and a pair of boxers decorated in little tweety birds.
The shirt nearly buried the petit man enveloping him in a practical tent of cottony fabric, while the boxers more than long enough showed slim and slightly muscular legs tapering to trim ankles and small feet. In his line of work he saw many people, but he could say with all and absolute honesty that the young man standing in front of him was indeed the most beautiful thing he had seen.
"I believe my tempter is normal." He said, looking away and holding the thermometer out for Trowa to take it. Trowa took the instrument back curiously, looked at it and raised an eyebrow, and then back up to face the boy, Mr. Winner, oh hell he'd just think of him as Quatra from no on. "Only if you're normal body tempter is 100 and 5 degrees Mr. Winner." The young man blushed dark red and suddenly found a great new interest in the hard wood. Trowa sighed once again and set the instrument lightly on the still washing machine. "Mr. Winner," He began "Please don't call me that," He said suddenly looking up. "It makes me feel so, old. Please call me Quatra."
Trowa nodded in consent and began again. "Mr., Quatra," He said quickly amending himself. "You have a fever, that alone would concern me but my concern is also founded in the fact that you were severely if not savagely beaten." Quatra looked up again as a shadow moved deep within his eyes, giving Trowa a warning as to how far he should push the venue for that subject. He held up his hands as if in surrender. "And I will not ask for any answers that you are unwilling to give. I am not a policeman. I am how ever a licensed and trained fission and I recommend that you stay here at least a little while longer if for no other reason than to assuage a strangers concern." Quatra shook his head his eyes sparkling slightly. "I couldn't impose upon you like that, really I'm fine a slight fever wont kill me and I was only blocks away from my destination when I, when we." He broke off unsure, and then looked into Trowa's eyes his own slightly startled. "How did I end up in your apartment? Besides bumping into you I don't remember much after that." The buzzer of the dryer sounded suddenly and Quatra jumped. Trowa turned his back on the young man and opened the door with a shrill metallic squeak. Reaching in he pulled out his white 'wife beater' shirt shaking his head as the moronity of the name came to mind. Pulling the shirt down over his head, he pulled it over his abs and turned back around to face Quatra who had diverted his eyes to the floor, his cheeks tinged slightly pink. "You passed out in the middle of the side walk. I didn't think you wanted the blare and glare of a hospital, that and the fact that the closest one around isn't exactly five stars. So I hailed a cab and took you home."
Quatra looked faintly appalled at the end of Trowa's explanation and Trowa wondered if it was toward him or him self. For some reason the idea that this man might be appalled with him didn't suit him at all. "I am so sorry to have put some thing like that upon you." He said suddenly his eyes wide and ashamed. "You must have been so put out, I really think." "If your going to say that you think you should go, I really will be put out with you." Said Trowa softly. Quatra's mouth snapped shut and his eyes widened even more. He looked utterly innocent and completely baffled. He was so adorable. 'You gutter head', he chastened him self.
Standing to his full height, he crossed his arms over his chest and gave the shorter boy a look he used on disorderly patients. "Now I am going to say this once and only once, you are in NO condition to leave this place and I will not let you. I am at no inconvenience what so ever. I am not angry with you that you are in the situation that you are and I am not 'put out'." Quatra blushed pink and returned to looking at the floor. Trowa thought he caught a faint fluttering of the blond mans eyes lashes but he wasn't sure, so he continued with his short tirade. "I can understand you not being comfortable with this, I really can," He said softening a little, not wanting to insult or hurt the young man. In fact many of the patients he had treated had had problems staying in the hospital, one to the extent that he had tried to break out only to nearly have been run over by his doctor when the nurses monitoring the main frame computer at the station had seen that his heart monitor had stopped.
"But I will not allow you to go wandering around New York looking like you just got mugged and feeling like your about to pass out." As he said the last the man looked up and Trowa saw the sudden droop of his eyes and the wobbliness in his stance. Before Trowa could say anything more the blond boy pitched side ways and hit the wall with a dull 'thump'. Before he could slide to the floor Trowa was by his side grabbing him by the shoulders he pinned Quatra to the wall briefly and tried to decide weather or not to carry him or simply let him lean on him. Quatra slowly raised his head and smiled gently, his azure eyes shining with what Trowa was positive were tears. "I suppose I can say point taken and concede you the field on this one, Mr. Barton." Trowa smiled and hooked Quatra's are over his shoulders hoisting the shorter man up, trying to stoop low enough so that he didn't pull on Quatra's arm. He smiled slightly him self and wrapped his arm lightly around the petit blonds waist. "I accept you concession on the grounds that you call me Trowa, if you aren't a Mr. Then neither am I." He then walked slowly towards his bedroom aware of the way Quatra was sagging more and more. Finally Quatra went totally limp and Trowa sighed, swinging him gracefully into his arms as he did so. Now, if only all his other arguments ended with him carrying his lover into the bedroom. Then he'd get somewhere.
Again he sighed remembering that one would have to obtain said lover first, and then worry about arguments. Laying the unconscious blond gently on the bed, he pulled the covers back up and sat beside him, checking his pulse and then feeling his fore head. As he looked down at the gentle expression sleep brought to the already gentle face. Trowa couldn't help feeling the stirring of emotions. Oh yeah, lover first, arguments later.
AN: So whatcha think? I was really mad at my computer cause I had originally written this chapter a bit differently but it erased it and I had to start from zill. But I think this one is satisfactory. Any who as long as you enjoyed it that's good too right? Well in any case thanks for reading and remember, keep that encouragement coming in. ~Owari~
Authors notes: Wow!! I got so many reviews for this story I decided to post the second chapter of this rather than the second chap of Q-Chan in wonderland. Don't worry thou, Q-chan in wonderland is still going to be updated before the end of March.
Warning's and Disclaimers: I do not own the gundam wing boys or girls; I jus take them off the shelf and play with 'em for a while. This is glorious yaoi, this also has an R rating for violence, language, sex and or sexual situations, and last but not least some pretty deep angsty stuff. Any questions? Lights, cameras, action!!
Chapter Two of Never Stop: With the dawn comes the light.
He couldn't tell what exactly had awakened him, maybe the smell of the peroxide so close to his head or the soft almost non-existent hum of the radio. When he came to awareness his first questions weren't the normal ones a person would think or feel. No non consequential 'where am I' or how did I get here?' 'S a simple 'why don't I hurt that much?' was the only bat swarming the proverbial bell free.
Slowly he sat up, knowing that after a beating such as he had taken and the time spent out in the rain, he would or should be stiff and achy as all hell. He looked around the room, taking in every thing, it was wide and open not what he had expected to find at his friends house. In fact he knew for a fact that his friend didn't have a single room like this in his little town house.
The walls were painted a deep dark blue, the trim left white to circle the room and give note to the high ceiling painted with a midnight sky and the moon and stars. To his right there was an enormous set of windows covered by plain navy curtains. And the bed he now laid in was king sized, the soft cotton sheet warmed his skin and the deep forest green comforter on the bed broke the strain of blue monotony.
"I see your up." His head shot up immediately and he gave a startled jump. He looked to the door way his eyes catching first on the man's hair. It was cinnamon brown; the pale light showing dimly threw the curtains glowing generously on his locks shining them red and gold in some places. It was long, a bit longer than his in the front, shortened in the back like he wore it. His narrow green eyes one of which was barely visible beneath his bangs were sparkling. He sat and stared for a moment, slightly mesmerized by the man's look. He was tall, probably much taller than him self, his frame was slim but well muscled. He obviously hadn't been up long, he was still wearing his pajama's a pair of black silk pants hanging off of his lean hips, it's mate a black silk top hung open exposing his chest and the slightly tanned skin and muscle.
He was surprised at his own voice, he sounded shaky, unstable. Flashes of what had happened had been swarming around his head sense he'd woken up. The only thing to dispel the warm almost safe feeling he had hidden deep within him. Now they came back only slightly as he tried to remember what part this man had played. "Who are you?" the man snorted a laugh and walked right into the room. Quatra discovered why his eyes had seemed to sparkle as he approached. He was wearing a thin wire frame pair of glasses the silver circles giving him a slight book wormy air. As he approached the bed He sat up straighter in it. Looking a little concerned but not really that frightened.
"That's definitely not the first question I expected to hear." He said calmly, his voice was deep and smooth; it dripped a kind of honey made sweetness that he had never heard before. The man slowly sat on the side of the bed rubbing his hands together and reaching out he touched his face. The boy jumped back cracking his head sharply against the headboard and yipping in pain. Gentle hands came to rest on top of his as they smoothed over the abused patch of skin. He looked into those deep green eyes, feeling a strange calm radiating from them, from him. "Who are you?" He sounded so slightly petulant, no doubt this man thought him a child by now. Or at least childish.
Said man smiled slightly, then turned his face into a mask of stone and moved slightly away from him. "I am Trowa Barton, I'm a doctor at Manhattan hospital. I, well to tell the full truth you crashed into me and shortly there after passed out. I didn't know who you were and instead of going to the hospital, I brought you home and cleaned your wounds." He reached over and picked a small glass thermometer off the surface of the nightstand he hadn't seen. He shook it for a moment and the held it out to him. He accepted it, sliding the cold metal tip under his tongue feeling a slightly nauseas sensation.
"Now, Mr. Winner, or may I call you Quatra?" He looked up sharply his eyes wide. "Mph hmm, humph." The man, Trowa, gave Quatra a semi stern glance his eyes sparkling slightly. "No talking Mr. Winner, not until your time is up." Quatra imagined he made some thing of a glare on his face for the man then laughed his mask breaking slightly to show a beautiful smile. He moved off the bed, and Quatra felt a slight loss of warmth, but didn't miss the gain of personal space, it was a hard tie. "I think you might be more comfortable were your doctor fully clothed, so I'll be right back, and don't take out that thermometer." Trowa walked gracefully from the room then, leaving Quatra to his thoughts.
Trowa walked threw the broad hallway of his apartment towards his laundry room. Not having much time and not by nature being an especially clean person he didn't really bother to fold or put away his clothes. The only clothes he had in his closet were two dress suits, one for weddings and one for funerals and a couple of coats for the changes in season. Coming into the open door he slid the black silk off of his shoulders, not caring that he was stripping in his laundry room, which had more than one bare window. He smiled slightly as he remembered an incident not too long ago. He had bought his small flat in his junior year in college, having been tiered of the dorms and wanting to get out on his own, and had at first not minded the Porte Rican family whom had a similar room right across from his over looking the narrow ally between the two buildings. There was an old widow, and her two youngest daughters who had at the time been 10 and 16. Ha had been out drinking and dancing with two of his collages and had come home smashed. Instead of going to bed however to sleep it off, he had gone into the laundry room where he had a small radio, found an oldies station and began to dance and strip.
The next morning as he was walking out of his building heading to the post office as both young girls ran out side and rushed hurriedly to his side. The 16 year old couldn't help but smile knowingly and make barely veiled remarks concerning his package. While the10 year old wanted to know what had been attacking him and why did he have to have his clothes off while it did it. Needless to say he had been more than a little embarrassed and had to explain to the girl that, nothing had 'attacked' him and he had just gotten done taking a shower and was drying off in a strange way.
Trowa was called back from his musings by a quit cough. He turned around finding the boy, Mr. Winner to be standing quietly in the hallway. The pure beauty that he saw in front of him again froze Trowa. To keep him from getting sick Trowa had changed him as soon as he got home, he had taken his sobbing clothes, placing the shirt aside if the boy wanted it back (thou god knows why any one would want some thing like that) And so all he wore was one of his older brothers stretched out Tee shirts and a pair of boxers decorated in little tweety birds.
The shirt nearly buried the petit man enveloping him in a practical tent of cottony fabric, while the boxers more than long enough showed slim and slightly muscular legs tapering to trim ankles and small feet. In his line of work he saw many people, but he could say with all and absolute honesty that the young man standing in front of him was indeed the most beautiful thing he had seen.
"I believe my tempter is normal." He said, looking away and holding the thermometer out for Trowa to take it. Trowa took the instrument back curiously, looked at it and raised an eyebrow, and then back up to face the boy, Mr. Winner, oh hell he'd just think of him as Quatra from no on. "Only if you're normal body tempter is 100 and 5 degrees Mr. Winner." The young man blushed dark red and suddenly found a great new interest in the hard wood. Trowa sighed once again and set the instrument lightly on the still washing machine. "Mr. Winner," He began "Please don't call me that," He said suddenly looking up. "It makes me feel so, old. Please call me Quatra."
Trowa nodded in consent and began again. "Mr., Quatra," He said quickly amending himself. "You have a fever, that alone would concern me but my concern is also founded in the fact that you were severely if not savagely beaten." Quatra looked up again as a shadow moved deep within his eyes, giving Trowa a warning as to how far he should push the venue for that subject. He held up his hands as if in surrender. "And I will not ask for any answers that you are unwilling to give. I am not a policeman. I am how ever a licensed and trained fission and I recommend that you stay here at least a little while longer if for no other reason than to assuage a strangers concern." Quatra shook his head his eyes sparkling slightly. "I couldn't impose upon you like that, really I'm fine a slight fever wont kill me and I was only blocks away from my destination when I, when we." He broke off unsure, and then looked into Trowa's eyes his own slightly startled. "How did I end up in your apartment? Besides bumping into you I don't remember much after that." The buzzer of the dryer sounded suddenly and Quatra jumped. Trowa turned his back on the young man and opened the door with a shrill metallic squeak. Reaching in he pulled out his white 'wife beater' shirt shaking his head as the moronity of the name came to mind. Pulling the shirt down over his head, he pulled it over his abs and turned back around to face Quatra who had diverted his eyes to the floor, his cheeks tinged slightly pink. "You passed out in the middle of the side walk. I didn't think you wanted the blare and glare of a hospital, that and the fact that the closest one around isn't exactly five stars. So I hailed a cab and took you home."
Quatra looked faintly appalled at the end of Trowa's explanation and Trowa wondered if it was toward him or him self. For some reason the idea that this man might be appalled with him didn't suit him at all. "I am so sorry to have put some thing like that upon you." He said suddenly his eyes wide and ashamed. "You must have been so put out, I really think." "If your going to say that you think you should go, I really will be put out with you." Said Trowa softly. Quatra's mouth snapped shut and his eyes widened even more. He looked utterly innocent and completely baffled. He was so adorable. 'You gutter head', he chastened him self.
Standing to his full height, he crossed his arms over his chest and gave the shorter boy a look he used on disorderly patients. "Now I am going to say this once and only once, you are in NO condition to leave this place and I will not let you. I am at no inconvenience what so ever. I am not angry with you that you are in the situation that you are and I am not 'put out'." Quatra blushed pink and returned to looking at the floor. Trowa thought he caught a faint fluttering of the blond mans eyes lashes but he wasn't sure, so he continued with his short tirade. "I can understand you not being comfortable with this, I really can," He said softening a little, not wanting to insult or hurt the young man. In fact many of the patients he had treated had had problems staying in the hospital, one to the extent that he had tried to break out only to nearly have been run over by his doctor when the nurses monitoring the main frame computer at the station had seen that his heart monitor had stopped.
"But I will not allow you to go wandering around New York looking like you just got mugged and feeling like your about to pass out." As he said the last the man looked up and Trowa saw the sudden droop of his eyes and the wobbliness in his stance. Before Trowa could say anything more the blond boy pitched side ways and hit the wall with a dull 'thump'. Before he could slide to the floor Trowa was by his side grabbing him by the shoulders he pinned Quatra to the wall briefly and tried to decide weather or not to carry him or simply let him lean on him. Quatra slowly raised his head and smiled gently, his azure eyes shining with what Trowa was positive were tears. "I suppose I can say point taken and concede you the field on this one, Mr. Barton." Trowa smiled and hooked Quatra's are over his shoulders hoisting the shorter man up, trying to stoop low enough so that he didn't pull on Quatra's arm. He smiled slightly him self and wrapped his arm lightly around the petit blonds waist. "I accept you concession on the grounds that you call me Trowa, if you aren't a Mr. Then neither am I." He then walked slowly towards his bedroom aware of the way Quatra was sagging more and more. Finally Quatra went totally limp and Trowa sighed, swinging him gracefully into his arms as he did so. Now, if only all his other arguments ended with him carrying his lover into the bedroom. Then he'd get somewhere.
Again he sighed remembering that one would have to obtain said lover first, and then worry about arguments. Laying the unconscious blond gently on the bed, he pulled the covers back up and sat beside him, checking his pulse and then feeling his fore head. As he looked down at the gentle expression sleep brought to the already gentle face. Trowa couldn't help feeling the stirring of emotions. Oh yeah, lover first, arguments later.
AN: So whatcha think? I was really mad at my computer cause I had originally written this chapter a bit differently but it erased it and I had to start from zill. But I think this one is satisfactory. Any who as long as you enjoyed it that's good too right? Well in any case thanks for reading and remember, keep that encouragement coming in. ~Owari~