Author: GrowlingTurtlez
Title: Enchantment
Pairing: 4x2
Rating: PG-13
Summary: This story is the sequel to "Golden", but can be read separately. After Duo and Quatre's day together, what happens that night?
Notes: Special thanks to Anne for beta'ing this!
Enchantment
I couldn't sleep. The bed was a king size, meant for two, and three or four others willing to play. The sheets were so dark that when I glanced down it seemed half of me had disappeared. It should have felt luxurious, an expanse to sprawl in, but instead it felt suffocating.
This was my father's bed. I couldn't get comfortable.
The bed was not the only thing keeping me awake. I wore a necklace; the cross on it nestled in the little dip between my collarbones. There had to be a scientific name for that little hollow. It was too enticing a place on the body not to have a name.
The cross shifted with every movement, startling me every time I managed to fall asleep. Thinking about the cross made me think of the person who gave it to me. Thinking about the person who gave it to me made me want to squeal, dig my toes into the sheets or jump up and down on this bed. I finally settled on what Duo would call a "shit eating grin."
This is Duo's cross. Well, since he gave it to me, it's my cross now, isn't it? I whispered "Quatre's cross," and it sounded bizarre, echoing through the room. My father would have had a heart attack if he had heard that. Maybe if I just said it over and over it would seem more real.
Without realizing I grabbed the cross, fiddling with it.
During the war, when I gave orders, the other pilots couldn't see the sweat on my brow or how my hands shook, locked up as we were in our Gundams. They could only hear my voice. Yet often I received a private call.
"04, how ya gonna hold the champagne at the victory party if your hands are shaking that much?"
"…I don't drink, 02."
At first Duo's perceptiveness irritated me. It irritated me that he so easily mocked my occasional high and mighty bearing. Then it became a comfort. He always followed my orders, despite my shaky nerves. He would have ignored them if he did not trust me. That's all I ever wanted, for us pilots to trust each other.
When we first met, I trusted him immediately. He seemed hesitant with me at first. Maybe it was Rasid; he could be frightening. Whatever it was, it did not last long. Soon Duo was throwing his arm around my shoulder, tugging my hair, slapping my back. Duo didn't hesitate to touch me roughly, and for that I will always be grateful. After people treat you like a glass figurine for 15 years, a clumsy, rough touch is welcome. At first I was overwhelmed, later it enchanted me. One time in a fit of exuberance he tackled me so hard that he left bruises. I stared at the marks in the mirror for days afterwards, and felt disappointed when they faded.
I became fascinated with his rough edges, the calluses and bitten nails, the creases in his palms where grease and gunpowder collected. Duo may think he's the master of stealth, but once when we were on board the Peacemillion, I snuck into his room in the middle of the night. I sat there in the dark until my back began to hurt, watching him sleep. His braid trailed off the bed and onto the floor, the end of it dusty. I could not resist touching it. It was rougher than I expected, with broken strands sticking out everywhere. The end was especially dry and brittle. If he had woken up I don't know what I would have said. "I was looking for split ends?"
These feelings snuck up on me, but as a child soldier in a brutal war I couldn't explore them. I had to put them aside, except for those moments when something, maybe a scent, maybe a sound would startle me from my concentration, and suddenly all I would see was his face, his hands, his ragged hair.
After fighting side by side with the other pilots for so long, the end of the war was unwelcome in some ways. They drifted away faster than I could reach out and catch them, and my father's business needed me. In the following year I figured out where Wufei and Trowa had gone. Heero disappeared, for lack of a better word, and Duo…well, I don't know. Everyday I waited for him to call me and say something like,
"Quatre, you're young, rich, and famous. What the hell's the matter?"
He never did, but I liked to think that he was watching me. I could never fool him, and he made up for his annoying intuitiveness by never letting me fool myself.
If there is one thing that Mariameia did that I'm grateful for, it is that she brought us back together. I did not let him or the others escape so easily that time. They were in contact with me whether they liked it or not. So there.
But Duo left again and did not contact me. The months passed, and work swallowed me. When twenty five hour days became the norm I decided to withdraw from the business. Someone once told me, "No matter your circumstances, once you've been given the gift of life, you must live a life you can be proud of." Living my father's life would make me loyal, but not proud.
It took forever to transfer power to my sisters, and some days felt like I was working longer hours than when I still ran it by myself.
Till today. Duo came back.
It was the best day I have had in a long time, and I don't think I have ever received a gift as thoughtful as the one Duo gave me. All in all I felt pretty happy-fuzzy.
But you know, the more I lay there that night the more something seemed wrong. Something was bothering me. I started going through the days events in my mind, trying to figure out what it was.
"Had a great time at the arcade, the dinner was good, so was the movie…and I know he wanted to kiss me…" I thought aloud.
Wait, that was it. I had a great day with a guy I like, he wanted to kiss me, and I wanted to kiss him. Said guy was sleeping a few doors down. We were not immature, hormonal fifteen year olds anymore. We were immature, horny eighteen year olds.
"He's an adult, I'm an adult…technically."
What the hell was I still doing in my room? Why, I was young, rich and he must have thought I was good looking. Didn't that mean I was a stud…or something?
"I'm suave, like Casanova…yeah…"
Suave, yeah. That was a good word. Suave. I was going to be so suave he wouldn't be able to handle it. I'd suave him up one side and down the other. I'd suave him so hard that…well, first I would need to get out of bed.
Before I swung my legs over the side I paused, and instead slowly stood on the bed. Then I jumped once. Then twice. Three times.
Wow, I should have done that more as a kid.
I swaggered out of my room and towards his, thinking "Suave, Quatre, you are suave. Like Casanova," over and over.
Then I was face down on the floor, limbs splayed every which way. Right in front of Duo's door too. The heat from my blushing face must have burnt a hole into the floor. Casanova would not have tripped on his nightly adventures. On top of it all, my carpet smelt like cat fur. I did not have any cats.
I picked myself up and picked the lock on his door before tip toeing inside. The only thing I saw on the bed was the quilt, all bunched up. He must have burrowed underneath them. I reached out and slowly peeled back the covers from the head of the bed. Feet.
Through an astounding leap of logic I concluded that his head must be at the other end, but when I pulled back the covers I found his braid. Exactly where was Duo in all these covers?
"I wonder-ah!"
A hand shot out of the blankets, grabbed my arm and flipped me onto the bed. The world spun for a moment, and when it stopped I was on my back, Duo leaning above me with his hands wrapped around my throat. Must have been those soldier instincts and all that.
I completely lost any remaining suave.
"Quatre, what are you doin' here?" he asked, voice rough from sleep.
"Um…hi?"
"…hi."
"Uh, can you let go of my throat now?"
He looked at his hands, noticing for the first time that they were wrapped around my neck. He let go.
"Sorry."
"That's ok. I shouldn't have woken you."
We stared at each other a little while, neither wanting to brave the awkward moment. Finally he spoke.
"Couldn't sleep?"
"No. The bed was too big."
"This one's not so big." I thought maybe he blushed then, but it was hard to tell in the dark. I snuggled up to his side, and after hesitating for a second crawled partly on top of him, feet entwining with his. I lay my cheek down, letting the heat from his chest warm my face. His heart beat faster.
"I jumped on my bed."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. It was…kind of fun."
He chuckled and brought his arms up, holding me. I relaxed that last bit and sighed. He hugged me closer. I turned my head, chin digging into his sternum, and gazed at him. He gazed back at me, a soft smile on his face.
"So, where are you going tomorrow?" I asked.
"I usually don't plan that far ahead."
"So you have no plans?"
His smile widened into a grin. "I'm not going anywhere."
I answered his grin with my own.
"I'm glad."
"Are you flirting with me, Mr. Winner?" he asked, and started to stroke up and down along my spine. Oh, that felt nice.
"Is it working?"
His grin became mischievous. "Give me a moment to decide."
"To decide?"
"Well, let some parts decide for me."
We lay for a while without speaking. I followed with my eyes the lines of his jaw, strong and straight, down his neck and stopped at that little hollow at the base.
"What is the name of that dip between a person's collarbones, that little hollow? I keep thinking there has to be an official name for it."
"The suprasternal notch."
I glanced up at his face, surprised.
"How did you know that?"
"I don't know. Just one of those random facts you pick up along the way."
"Oh."
Acting on impulse, I rose up on my elbows, leaned forward to kiss that dip. His heart beat sped up, and I stayed crouched above him. The cross fell out of my shirt and dangled over his face.
"Quatre."
"Yes?"
He reached up and brushed his fingertips across my lips.
"I want you to kiss me."
I had no objections. I leaned down to kiss his left eye, then his right. He sighed, and I could feel his breath on my collarbone. The cross lowered as I did, brushing across his lips, and when I kissed his mouth the cross was between us, mixing its metallic flavor with his. I pulled back, moved the cross out of the way and kissed him again. Then I left his mouth, kissing lightly along his jaw, and he turned his head to the side, letting me. I ended up back at that little hollow, where I lay my head.
When I was younger we had a tree in our front yard that we called the "slug tree" because we always found tons of slugs crawling on it. One day I took one of my sisters' pottery wheels, one of those ones for kids to play with. Then I ran outside with it to the slug tree and grabbed a bunch of them, placing them on the pottery wheel. I turned it on and ran for it, and behind me the slugs went flying. Except for this fat white one. It took a while but when it finally flew it went the farthest of them all.
In these past few years I often felt like that, like my life was spinning out of control, and any moment I would be thrown up and out. I felt like that now, only the difference was that for the first time I anticipated finally being thrown off.
It was silent for a few moments, and then he started to speak. It felt funny, with his adam's apple moving under my cheek.
"I don't have any plans for tomorrow, or the day after that, so I'm not going anywhere."
He reached up, gently lifting my head till we were facing each other.
"My schedule is completely, utterly free, so if you don't mind…"
"No," I said, "I don't mind at all"
He kissed me this time.
"Everything's spinning," I whispered.
Then I fell asleep, his arms around me.