Chapter 10 – A little help from our friends

I'm not sure what time it is, but I know that it is a lot warmer in my room than it usually is, especially since I dropped the temp in the apartment to 'fucking cold'. I roll over and a foreign scent permeates my senses, cutting through the fog of sleep. As consciousness comes to me, I feel strong arms holding me close. It is not the first time I have woken up to someone in my bed that wasn't there when I went to sleep, but this person does not smell like Duo or Heero. In fact, it smells like… "Trowa?" I ask quietly as I open my eyes only to see the lightly tanned skin of his neck.

"Hi." He replies softly and gives me a gentle squeeze. "How are you doing?" Trowa kisses the top of my head.

"Don't know yet. But I have to admit, this is a glorious way to wake up. It isn't a dream, is it?"

He chuckles so softly, I feel it more than hear it. "No. When you didn't show up for running this morning, Duo took me out shopping."

"'Tempt Quatre out of bed' provisions?" I ask with a small smile.

"Yup. Hopefully he didn't steer me wrong."

"I doubt he did. I'm rather predictable when it comes to comfort food"

"So, will it work?"

"What work?"

"Get you out of bed?"

I smile. "Yeah, but I think more so because you are the one with the provisions. I need a shower though. I feel grimy."

Trowa moves just enough so that he can see me. His emerald eyes are full of concern and he kisses me gently. "I was worried." The words are almost too soft to hear.

"Let's get showered, then we'll talk and eat ice cream." He nods and kisses me again before sliding out of my bed. As his feet make contact with the floor, he raises his hands over his head and stretches, eyes closed as he does so. I watch with great fascination as he does this, noting the way his lean chest muscles flex and stretch as his torso bends. Even stretching the man has a grace about him that puts even the most talented dancers and acrobats to shame.

"I'll be right back." He gives me a small mischievous smile, grabs his shirt off the floor and pulls it over his head.

I slip out of bed right behind him and wrap my arms around his waist, resting my head on his back. "Thank you Trowa."

One of his hands grasps mine. "You don't have to thank me, you know."

"No, I need too. People have known each other for more than four days and have done less. It means a lot to me." With a fluid motion, he takes one of my hands and brings it gently to his lips. My breath hitches in my chest, and I close my eyes. Allah, I really hope he remains this perfect.

A few moments later, he is exiting my apartment and as soon as the door closes, I grab my toothbrush, slather toothpaste on it and jump into the shower. As the hot water flows over my head, I close my eyes and vigorously brush the sleep from my mouth. I realize, at this moment, that I have no clue what time it is. Obviously late enough that Duo had time to take Trowa to the grocery store for emergency rations, but I was so happy to see Trowa next to me that time doesn't seem to matter.

Then it dawns on me. Duo took Trowa to the grocery store, which means Duo was talking. This realization worries me immensely. My best friend always has the best of intentions, but sometimes he tends to share more than he should, especially things he really doesn't have the right to share. For the second time in two days, I pray that my best friend has not screwed me over with his good intentions.

The shower feels wonderful, and I am almost hesitant to leave its relaxing cocoon. But it doesn't take much for those exotic green eyes to appear in my mind's eye, so wonderfully reminding me that the glorious man should be on his way back to see me. Oh Allah, I think I will break if he is just using me. Slowly, I turn the shower off, still lost in thought, hoping that Allah, fate or whatever divine being out there watching over me has finally decided that they have thrown enough, sniveling, using, needy, egotistical, self-centered assholes at me and that they finally want to give me someone brilliant and wonderful.

Wrapping a towel around my waist, I pick up the clothes I had slept in, and throw them into the hamper in the bathroom and open the door. The steam billows from the room as it meets the air conditioned living room. Trowa is sitting on the couch, a small smile on his face. I feel my face heat as his emerald eyes look over my body and all I want at this moment is to have his hands doing the exploration as well. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, begging my body to calm down.

"Quatre?" He asks softly.

"Ah…" I begin to stutter. "I should get changed." My face burns as it becomes clear he caught me spacing out. He smiles and nods while I make a hasty retreat to my room, which I seem to be doing a lot of lately. Allah, I'm being so damn childish. Why is this so difficult? It shouldn't be. I'm an adult, he's an adult. Why can't I act like one and not run away constantly like I'm a grade school student with a crush on someone?

I pull on a clean set of flannel pajama bottoms, as I am not intending on leaving the apartment today, toss my towel haphazardly onto my bed and pull out a super soft black t-shirt. As I exit my room, I pull the shirt over my head and head towards the couch. Before I can sit down, Trowa gently grabs my waist and pulls me towards him, slowly snaking his arms around me as I get closer to him. I wrap my arms around his neck as he rests his head on my chest.

"Feel any better?"

"Vastly. I'm sorry Trowa. I feel so stupid for acting the way I did yesterday." There is a slight ting of sadness in my voice and some of yesterday's darkness still lingers in my mind, despite the part of me that feels very happy to have him with me. "What did Duo tell you when you went for provisions?"

He tenses just a bit, and I can feel a rush of nervousness radiate from him. "He told me that you suffer from depression and that I should try to get you to take your medication."

A soft, bitter laugh escapes my lips. "I figured. He doesn't stop trying."

He looks up at me. "I know this probably isn't really my business, as I'm not quite sure what we are, but why don't you?"

I sigh. "It's stupid."

"Stupid, as in, it isn't a good reason?"

I nod. "Yes."

"Ok." He says with a slight grin. "Let's hear this stupid reason."

"I don't want to be stuck on medication forever. That, and part of me doesn't want to admit that there is something wrong. So, maybe, if I ignore the problem it will go away and usually it does rather quickly."

"Quatre, there isn't a problem with admitting that there is something wrong. You strike me as someone who loves life." I nod in agreement. "So why suffer through moments that make life dark when you don't need too?"

As I mull over his words, I maneuver a little so I can sit down next to him, my back resting against the arm of the couch and my knees drawn up to my chest. I know if someone was reading my body language, they would say I was closing up, but it feels safer like this right now. "Sometimes I feel like I need to go through it."

Trowa's brow creases with worry. "Why? No one should have to go through that."

"I think it is some divine punishment." I answer quietly.

"What could you possibly have done to have incurred the wrath of the divine?"

"Hum, well, let me see. I killed my mother and out of thirty children, my parents' only son turns out of be a fucking fag who won't carry on the family name, at least not in the traditional way. I've let my father down in every single possible way. And while my sisters make breakthroughs daily in the sciences, I have absolutely nothing to contribute to anything." The words leave my tongue harshly, and Trowa winces as I speak. When I stop talking, I feel the tears threatening in the corner of my eyes.

Trowa turns and sits cross-legged, his shins touching mine, and wraps his arms around my legs. "First, how did you kill your mother?"

Tears start to glide down my face. "She wasn't supposed to have children. Not the natural way. Her body was too weak and complications arose, and she died three months after I was born. I never knew her, but I'm the reason she's dead."

He raises his right hand and wipes the tears from my cheek with his thumb. "How do you know something else might not have taken her life instead? An accident or some random stranger could have claimed her life. At least she was able to offer the world something wonderful before she left."

His voice is soothing, and I lean into his hand slightly. "But it is my fault she's dead."

He shakes his head patiently. "No. It was your parents' decision. You had absolutely no say in the matter. So don't blame yourself for something that you couldn't have possibly controlled." He smiles gently and kisses my knee. "What kind of scientists are in your family?"

My brow furls in confusion. "All kinds, my father, by schooling, is a genetic scientist. He's the reason I have 29 sisters."

"Then he should know you didn't choose to be a homosexual." (1)

"I know, but sometimes I feel like I owe it to him to at least try to be 'normal.'"

"Quatre, listen to yourself. How is making yourself miserable going to do anything positive? I don't think I could love life if I was pretending to be something I'm not. And think of how many people could get hurt if you 'tried.' You, first and foremost. Then the woman you were trying to be normal with. People can tell when the spark isn't there. She'll more than likely eventually notice that you're eyes linger just a little longer in appreciation on men then they do women. Then there is everyone around you. What would your best friend say to you, if you all the sudden decided to go out with a girl?"

I remain quiet as he calmly gives me reasons as to why my line of thinking is backasswards, but when he mentions Duo, I can't help but laugh. "He'd wonder where the Quatre he's known forever went and demand to have him back. Allah, why is this so hard?" Frustration tinges my words, and I rest my forehead on my knees so I don't have to look into his eyes. For some reason I have no will when I look into those pools of emerald green.

"Quatre, I really can't see why the divines would feel the need to punish you. If you believe in something, then doesn't that which watches over us, plan our path? They place obstacles in our path and those obstacles either make or break us. Those who make it past them, learn from the experience and grow stronger. Those that don't make it past them, find themselves defeated and broken. Depression is one of the road blocks on the path. Medicine can combat it. It is just another obstacle to overcome, though it does tend to be somewhat of a reoccurring obstacle, but each time you progress past it, you can learn something from the experience. There is no shame in getting a little help."

His voice is starting to get a little raspy, and I look at him. "Do you need some water?"

He shakes his head. "No. Don't usually talk this much."

I laugh quietly. "I'll take the medicine because you asked me."

"I don't want you to take the medicine because of me. I want you to take it because you want to."

I should have known he would answer this way. "I can't promise anything. But I'll try." My answer carefully avoids the topic of who I am actually doing this for and by the way his eyes are narrowing at me, he's on to my little game.

"I guess that is a start." He smiles and rocks forward, catching my lips in a soft kiss. "How about I make some cheese bread up and we curl up on the couch and watch a movie?"

Allah, I think I could kiss him all day. A goofy grin dances across my lips. "I think I'm up for that."

Trowa leans over and gives me a kiss with a bit more substance. Though tame, there is a wonderful hint of toe-tingling heat, and I keep myself from putting my knees down and pulling him on top of me. He breaks the kiss and presses his cheek to mine so I can feel his lips on my neck. "More later…promise." His voice is soft and sexy and his lips doubly so as he kisses my neck and slips off to the kitchen.

I stretch out, arching my back over the arm of the couch, so I can watch him while he works. Maybe I should start taking the medication again. Just because I can't seem to get myself to care, doesn't mean that everyone around me doesn't care as well. With a slight twist, I roll off the couch, land on my feet and walk head towards the kitchen.

As he puts the bread knife down, I wrap my arms around his waist and hold him. "I still don't understand why you are doing all of this."

"What do you mean?" He responds, turning in my arms so he can see me.

"I mean, why are you doing all of this? We haven't known each other all that long and the skeptical side of me thinks that you're doing all of this with some sort of angle. Like you're going to get whatever it is you want and leave with your conquest." I say quietly, not exactly meeting his gaze.

"Quatre." He gently grasps my head with his hands and tilts it so I am looking into his eyes. "I don't want a conquest and the only angle I have is to be with you. I can't explain it; there is just something about you that makes me extremely happy. Attraction doesn't always make sense. I'd like to be your boyfriend, that is, if you want one. I can't guarantee that I won't inadvertently hurt you, just like you can't guarantee that you won't inadvertently hurt me. We're human and misunderstandings abound so anything can happen."

I look at him skeptically. "But four days ago you didn't know you were gay."

He nods. "True, but am I to be condemned and not trusted because of that? How did you know?"

Well, he has a point. "I played in a youth orchestra in middle school, sat first chair violin, and I fell for the second chair player. He went to another school and we saw each other on weekends. At first, we just thought of each other as friends, and then we began to catch ourselves looking at each other a bit more than friends would. Eventually, I invited him over to stay the night, telling my father we needed to do a lot of practicing for an upcoming concert, as we were performing pieces that featured duel soloists. We practiced late into the night and rose early to keep doing it. What my father didn't know is that the first night he stayed over we became a little more than just friends."

"So it took some guy from a different school to ignite that passion within you?"

By Allah, he's good. "Yes."

"But you went to a co-ed school."

"Yes."

"So, why did it take someone at another school to tip you off? There must have been some stunning creatures at your school."

"There were, but none of them made my heart skip a beat." I reply, knowing I am defeated.

He cracks a smile, knowing he is victorious. "So it took me a few years longer to find that person who makes my heart skip a beat." I feel his thumbs gently travel over my cheeks, and I flush at the simple action. "You were just lucky enough to figure it out earlier on."

"But aren't you disturbed by this realization? I can't imagine going through the mental battle I went through when I was thirteen, now."

He shrugs and kisses me gently. "Not really. I think because somehow it makes sense in my mind. I've met some truly wonderful, brilliant and practically perfect women, but not one of them sparked anything in me. As creepy and stalkerish as this sounds, I saw you walking to the GLBT meeting and found myself inexplicably drawn to you. That's how come I ended up in the meeting looking rather dazed. I had no clue what I was getting myself into, but I followed a feeling and here I am, looking into the most stunning set of turquoise eyes I have ever seen, while trying with all my might not to constantly kiss you silly."

I grin goofily at his words, and I feel the warmth and sincerity rush from him. It is my turn to kiss him, and I pull him close so that our bodies are flush with each other. The kiss is one of those eyes closed, blissful kisses, and I decide to up the ante by teasing his bottom lip with my tongue. I feel the sides of his mouth turn up into a smile and he teases back and slowly the kiss deepens. Not to that desperate, passion hungry level, though. It remains carefree and playful, while adding a sweetness that makes my stomach flutter and heat spread throughout my body.

We let the kiss end when it wants to, letting the natural rhythm dictate the pace. "You should go back to the couch and pick out a movie and let me finish making bread."

"I know, but I'm going to get the medication out of the cabinet before I do."

Trowa grins at me and he slowly slides his hands from my cheeks and down my arms, before he hugs me. "Ok. You want cider? Or something else?"

"Cider is fine. I'll take it cold since we're going to be watching the movie together. I'm pretty sure that you next to me will be enough to keep me warm." I give him a wink as I wiggle my way out of his arms and grab the medicine bottle out of the cabinet. Then, leaving Trowa to finish making cheesy bread, I return to the living room and grab The Princess Bride off the DVD rack, feeling in the mood for a little romance with my fantasy adventure comedy.

With the disc in place, I grab the remotes, sit on the couch and place the bottle on the table. In the back of my mind, I still feel the darkness of depression, but I can't help but smile happily to myself as I hear Trowa moving around in the kitchen. I turn around on the couch so I am kneeling and resting my arms on the back and lay my head on my arms. He moves with a grace that not even the Prince of Sanc possesses, which I can only associate with the fact that he is a gymnast. He too, is wearing a pair of pajama bottoms and they billow as he moves. The form-fitting heather t-shirt almost hides the smooth muscles on his back and chest. Muscles that, all of the sudden, I crave to let my hands explore.

I watch him as he bakes the bread and every once and a while, he looks over his shoulder and smiles at me. While the cheesy bread bakes, he prepares the cider and gets dishes out to put the bread on. He walks the glasses over to the table and sets them down. Before he returns to the kitchen, he kisses my neck from behind, and again I find myself grinning from ear to ear.

By the time the bread finishes baking, he is just finishing cleaning up the kitchen and moments later, there is cheese bread on the coffee table along with two small plates. I thank him with a grateful smile and steal a kiss before turning on the television to watch the movie. We eat in relative silence, and I sit contently next to him with our shoulders touching, taking a moment to take the medication I have been so unwilling to take in the past.

As we finish our food, he pushes me forward and lies down on his side, stretching out on the couch. I grin and his hand goes to my waist and gently guides me to lie in front of him. I do so and he spoons up behind me holding me close. My body relaxes into his, and I nuzzle his bicep that is acting as my pillow. In fact, I'm so relaxed I begin to feel drowsy, despite the fact that I have done almost nothing but sleep for the last few days. But this is a happy sort of drowsy. One that is not stemmed from the mental stress of a friend in need or the mental stress of depression, no, this is a completely content sort of drowsy, stemming from the warmth and protection Trowa emanates.

My eyes lids become heavy, and I close them for a bit of a rest just as Buttercup pushes Wesley down the hill.

Author's Footnote: I am going off the current studies into homosexuality for this statement. Studies since '93 have shown that there is a very strong probability that, in homosexual males, the mother passes down the genetics for this on a specific part of the X chromosome.

((End of Revised chapters - more coming soon))