I don't know how their mothers got in the way, but I hope you'll forgive me for taking liberties with our dear characters' pasts... There're parts of this chapter that I really like and parts that I'm really unhappy with... I sat down a couple days ago to rewrite the latter, but couldn't come up with anything better than what I already had so... I decided to post it as it is. The next will be better. Hopefully. Hihihihi *embarrassed forced laugh*

CHAPTER 12

"Aren't you excited?" Quatre asked, eyes gleaming and smile wide.

Heero looked down at the working table, the long line of knives, the colourful pile of vegetables and wondered for the ten thousandth time how he had come to be standing there wearing that apron. Surely they would be killing each other with those knives? He was no knife expert, but he was quite sure the longer the knife the more chances he would have to land a hit. Or should he choose the smallest one and favour the element of surprise? Still the odds seemed quite against him. He looked around, evaluating the competition. Well, perhaps not quite.

The table beside theirs had a couple of old ladies and the next a couple of young ladies. Behind them a lovey-dovey couple giggling and whispering and beside the lovebirds what seemed to be mother and son. The furthest table from theirs was still empty. Of the other two men present, one looked quite thin and uncoordinated – Heero didn't miss how he got all wrapped up in his apron, forcing his girlfriend to come to the rescue – and the other looked no older than fifteen, but then he of all people should know better than to underestimate a teenager.

"Oh, no…" he turned back to his own partner in time to see his eyes widen and his jaw quiver. Heero followed his gaze to the final contestants. The tall blonde man immediately attracted the attention of all women present, he really did look like he had crawled out of one of those chick flicks Relena liked to watch. He was all long legs, silky hair and nearly translucent blue eyes, his smile would have been worth a million bucks surely… If it did not look like something learned and rehearsed. Heero was disgusted.

The man's companion was pretty ordinary in comparison, but there was something angry in his eyes, a warning.

"Quatre?" he turned back to his friend and the blonde's sudden paleness had him worried. "What is it?"

"Jeremy. That's… It's… That guy…" he pointed a finger as discreetly as he could, but Jeremy had already caught their eye. Heero glared as he watched the man's smile widen. "Is he coming here?" Quatre asked, trying to hide behind him. "Should we leave?"

"No."

"What?"

"We're not leaving." He informed with conviction and, after a second, turned to meet the blonde's eyes. "You cannot let that man spoil your fun. He's at the other side of the room, just pretend he doesn't exist." He was truly horrified to see his friend – a former gundam pilot – afraid of some idol of beauty or whatever that man was and in the pit of his stomach he had to fight a surge of anger he had never felt before.

Quatre locked gazes with him, he looked awed and Heero was relieved to see the sparkle return to his eyes. Then he smiled brightly. "You're right. Fuck him."

Wow… He had never heard his friend curse before, and though he had sounded cheerful there was a dangerous edge to it that Heero found strangely compelling… He was glad the instructor – teacher, chef, whatever – arrived at that moment for his mind was suddenly flirting with very compromising ideas.

Apparently, they were going to learn how to chop things and that was about it. It was as much as they could hope to achieve in a few hours. Heero was fine with it, chopping things did not sound too hard. If only he had known…

OxOxO

He pushed a meatball around in his plate as he thought. Kate had been absent that morning and, even though he knew he shouldn't, he worried about her. He wondered if he should send her a message wondering if she was okay… Would she even answer? Would it make a difference? Would she care? No, probably not. Then, why… Why did his treacherous thoughts always stray towards her? Hormones? Sexual frustration? Loneliness? Or was there something he was missing? Sure, he cared about her, but this was becoming an obsession, wasn't it?

"Trowa?" Relena watched him worriedly from the other side of the table, the smallest of frowns creasing her forehead. Heero was watching him too, though his expression was as blank as ever. "Did I overcook it?"

"Oh, no! It's perfect. I just…" he looked down at his plate and felt sad to be wasting such good food, but his stomach seemed to have scheduled a rebellion for the day. When he met Relena's eyes again it was with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." She smiled in understanding and shared a brief look with Heero, who nodded. "Would you accompany me to the supermarket this afternoon?"

"Eh? But I thought Heero…"

"I need a day off." His friend cut in. Trowa frowned, having never heard that one before, but decided to go along with it. Relena was his boss and he did not feel right refusing her even if it was a request and not an order.

"Okay." He said.

After that day she had started dragging him everywhere. If she noticed he was looking too thoughtful or too gloomy she would make something up, whatever excuse she could come up with to take him out somewhere, anywhere, and he would follow not realising how she was slowly filling his life, his mind and his heart with pieces of herself. They never mentioned Kate, not even once, and he had always thought that was because Relena did not want to make him uncomfortable by bringing her up… Now, he realised the reason his classmate had never come up was because, when he was with the Foreign Minister, Kate was the furthest thing from his mind.

Trowa stared at the phrase he had been reading for the last 30 minutes, or trying to rather, for his mind would not cease straying. Maybe if he followed it with his body he might be able to hush his thoughts long enough to be able to do some proper reading. He was reaching the climax of the trashy novel he had bought at the magazine stand in the spaceport and he did not want to miss a single detail of the lead characters' most awaited sex scene… Especially not now that he had gone through the torture of reading almost the whole thing because of that damned scene. That would be just wrong.

His train of thought led him to the nursery where Relena was changing Khadija's diaper. For a fraction of a second he considered taking his leave before the smell hit his nose, but then she was already smiling at him over her shoulder and he forgot who he was.

"Hey." She greeted and his mind tricked him into thinking she sounded glad to see him. "I was just introducing Hope to Khadija."

Trowa met the tabby's green eyes as she hovered by the blonde woman's feet. "Have you seen Duo?" he asked, not really knowing what to say or how to justify his presence there at his most hated of places.

"I thought he was with you." She sounded confused.

"No, I was…reading."

"You really are reading that novel? What was it called? 'Victims of lust'?"

"'Victims of desire'." He corrected and she giggled, though if at the title or at the thought of him reading such a thing he would never know.

"Why did you pick that one?"

"It was at the top." It was a lie, of course, but a white one. Relena did not need to know just how sexually frustrated he truly was… Picking a book because its title made it sound like it had lots of sex in it didn't sound like a good answer.

"Oh…" she smiled, lifting Khadija back into her arms. "All done. Here."

Before he could as much as blink, she had turned around, crossed the distance between them and dropped the baby in his arms. He gapped, trying to stop her from doing something that was already done and stared at Khadija as he held her awkwardly, torn between forfeiting his life (a.k.a. dropping her) and holding her until Relena returned from God knew where. If she had told him where she had gone, he had not heard her amidst his inner panic. What if she did not come back? Was he supposed to follow?

He almost ran into her as he made for the door, Hope close on his heels. At the sight of her, he released the longest breath he had ever held. His relief was so great he almost told her so. In the last second though, he managed to clamp his mouth shut before a 'I'm so so so very glad you're back' could make its way past his lips. She smiled, apparently oblivious to his inner turmoil.

"Everything alright?" she asked, a bottle in her hand. "Do you want to feed her?"

"Please, no."

"Okay." Relena chuckled allowing him to shift Khadija back to her arms. "She doesn't bite, you know… And even if she did… She doesn't really have teeth." She whispered to him as if disclosing a secret.

"Well, diaper or not, she poops on you." He reasoned seriously, but the young woman only smiled – pitifully – at him. "And vomits. On you."

"So you're okay with nonhuman excretions but not with human ones?"

He pretended to think because the answer – to him, at least – was quite obvious. "Actually, yes."

Relena merely shook her head as she settled on the armchair. Hope immediately jumped on the arm of the chair, but Trowa intercepted her before she could do much else. He frowned warningly at her as he held her against his chest with practiced ease. The young Foreign Minister watched them with a smile.

"What is it about?" she asked. "The book."

"Oh… It's the story of a high school student who falls in love with her substitute teacher only to discover that he's actually her brother who was kidnapped when he was a child."

She blinked, processing his explanation while Khadija sucked greedily on the artificial nipple. "Sounds…complex."

"Hn." Trowa agreed Heero-style while his mind conjured up images of real nipples against his wishes. He must be getting sick.

"Sit." Relena told him, nodding towards the arm Hope had jumped on earlier. For whatever reason, he acquiesced without a thought. Her hair looked so soft from up close, he wondered if it would feel as soft as the fur he was currently running his hands through. "What do you think Heero and Quatre are doing?"

"I thought they had gone to a cooking course."

"Yes, I meant at the course."

"Cooking?" he offered, unsure of what to say.

"It was a basics course… What do you think it entails? Ingredient combinations? How to set up a pretty salad? How to boil? How to cut?"

"Well… It could be anything, I guess."

Hope jumped off his lap, leaving them alone and Relena raised the baby against her shoulder. In an impulse Trowa pulled her hair over her free shoulder, his fingers grazing the skin of her neck. It was hot, so unbelievably hot and he felt his heart accelerate. She looked up at him, lips slightly parted in expectation and a blush spread over her cheeks. He swallowed even though his mouth was dry.

"Thank you." Relena whispered.

He nodded and stood up. She was too tempting. He was a starving man and she was suddenly there. "I…" Trowa cleared his throat. "I should go look for Duo."

"Trowa, wait."

His heart was beating so fast now, he thought he might be having a panic attack, he turned around, but Relena looked just as surprised to have spoken as he did to have touched her hair without her permission. He wondered if maybe he should justify his actions… Surely she did not want baby barf on her hair? "I…"

"I'm sorry." She beat him to it, bouncing Khadija lightly and blushing. "I don't know why I said that."

"It's okay." Trowa took a deep breath unsure whether to be relieved or disappointed. Well, he wasn't sure what he had been expecting to begin with… "Goodnight, Relena."

She looked back at him, her eyes softening. "Goodnight."

OxOxO

Quatre lifted his eyes off the stainless steel table when Chef Frank Jocelyn Nazaire Ghyslain Petit clapped his hands. "Anz now… For our last fivteen minutes, we will old a friendly compétition." The man informed in heavy French accented English.

"A competition?" he whispered already feeling his blood rush with adrenaline. A competition… He glanced at the other side of the room and, out of the corner of his eye, saw Jeremy smile at him. The nerve of him… Quatre returned to his post half-hidden behind Heero, who seemed unable to stop glaring at his vegetables, and looked down at their handywork. Not too bad. They were definitely perfectionists. Yes, they could do it. "We are going to win." He told his partner with determination.

Heero eyed him warily out of the corner of his eye, but he refused to acknowledge it. It had been a long time since he had been this full of pent up energy and what better way to spend it than in a friendly competition? "We are going to win this." He repeated with conviction and his eyes narrowed in preparation for battle.

Beside him, former pilot 01 sighed. "You should have brought Maxwell. He is the real knife fiend."

"We're not chopping people, Heero. We're chopping vegetables." He paused then realising that Chef Frank Jocelyn Nazaire Ghyslain Petit had stopped speaking. "Did you get the rules?"

"Each pair will chop four different types of vegetables in four different types of cuts. Time and precision will be evaluated to decide the winners."

He nodded, stretching his neck, arms and fingers and warming up his legs. They would win, he was sure of it. "Are you ready? You chop two and I'll chop two. How's that? I think that'll give us ample time to do a good job and still end first. Are you smirking at me? We have to win, Heero. It's a mission, you hear me? We've got to leave Jeremy in the dust."

His partner did not seem to be taking things seriously enough, but as Quatre did not remember having ever heard him chuckle before, he was too breath taken to rebuke him for it. It only made him even more flustered though… He chose his vegetables, a knife and waited, muscles tense and ready for the start signal.

"Are you ready?" Chef Frank Jocelyn Nazaire Ghyslain Petit asked smiling widely. They waited for all competitors to nod their acquiescence. "Good. Now, go!"

The sound of knives against wooden boards goaded him on and in the blink of an eye he had a carrot perfectly chopped Jardiniere style. He reached for the cucumber, trying not to be bothered by Heero's seemingly utter calmness or their rivals' whispered conversations. His treacherous eyes tried to move to Jeremy's table, but he forced them back to the task at hand. His mind wasn't so forthcoming though and he caught himself wondering if that other guy was his ex's boyfriend… If he was, he was most definitely someone famous and yet Quatre did not remember having seen him anywhere before. He smiled triumphantly. Heero might not be his, but – no matter how you looked at it – he was much more interesting than Jeremy's partner.

"Ha!" he exclaimed laying down the knife and evaluating his work as he wiped his hands on his apron. Heero finished seconds later, still displeased with his still undeveloped abilities. Quatre thought he did it quite beautifully… "Oh, shit." He slapped his own dirty mouth. "We forgot to define who was doing what cut! Wait… Did you know which ones I was doing? How?"

"I pay attention." Heero shrugged.

The blonde scrutinized him. He did pay a lot of attention, but then again… The quiet ones were always the worst. "I'm glad." He said with a relieved sigh. "Otherwise we would have been disqualified."

"Hn."

Unable to deny himself any longer, he threw a glance at the enemy's table. They were done too. In fact, so were all the other pairs, except the mother and son. Chef Frank Jocelyn Nazaire Ghyslain Petit was already on his way to help them. "At least, they no longer have any chance of winning."

"I never knew you were this competitive." Heero commented with a hint of amusement.

"I'm a strategist." He shrugged, though a self-conscious blush spread all over his cheeks forcing him to look away."

"I know you are." And he sounded so…appreciative, Quatre thought he might combust. Not to mention the fact that that comment had been completely unnecessary and therefore meant exclusively to flatter him. Well… It worked.

"Tres bien. Tres bien." Chef Frank Jocelyn Nazaire Ghyslain Petit had suddenly materialized in front of their table and he was looking quite pleased by their work. "You finished second anz widz almost impeccable cut. You score 9."

Quatre smiled politely and thanked him as he moved to the table behind theirs. "9?!" he asked perplexed, sure that Heero would be able to read his lips. Wing's former pilot was not quite as impressed though, in fact, he looked like he agreed with their unfair score. The blonde watched him shrug and glared at him for a full total of 2 seconds. To his chagrin, his partner seemed unfazed.

The table behind theirs got a 6.5, the mother and son a 6, Jeremy and his supposed boyfriend got a 9 – which had Quatre fuming and even Heero looking somewhat displeased – the young ladies got an 8.5 and to everyone's dismay the winners were the two old ladies with a total of 9.75. He could not believe it. They had lost to a couple of old ladies… By 0.75 points. It was absurd…

"I told you. You should have brought Maxwell." Heero commented matter-of-factly. "At least you'll always be a Winner no matter the outcome."

Quatre's glare disappeared with a snicker. "That was so lame." He said and burst out laughing.

"If you had brought Maxwell, you would get better puns as well." He tried to hide the smile, but the blonde could sense his amusement. It was invigorating, like a breath of fresh air, and that smile… Maybe it was because they were so rare, but Heero's smiles always seemed to take his breath away.

"We should get out of here before Jeremy decides to approach us." He commented, letting his laugh die down into a chuckle. Chef Frank Jocelyn Nazaire Ghyslain Petit had started a farewell speech.

"Are you sure you don't want to confront him?" Heero did sound like he wanted to confront the other man and Quatre was grateful, but he wanted some alone time.

"Quite." He nodded. "What's done is done. Besides he's already got a boyfriend what does he need to talk to me for?" The whole group gave a round of applause as Chef Frank Jocelyn Nazaire Ghyslain Petit's speech ended and Quatre saw Heero send a warning glare towards Jeremy who was watching them with a kinky sort of smile. It disappeared after a few seconds and Jeremy's clear intent to approach them vanished as he turned the other way. "I think I would like to have a bodyguard after all…"

He saw a thick brown eyebrow rise at his comment and chuckled, feeling strangely elated. Heero was already pulling the apron off his head, Quatre did the same. "Will they use these vegetables?"

The blonde looked at the colourful assembly. He had never thought of Heero as the frugal kind, but then wasting food was never a good thing. "I have no idea. I guess we can take ours if we want to… We could make a soup."

"Hn."

"Actually… I wanted to cook something for you." He busied himself with gathering the vegetables as he felt himself blush. "Is there something in particular that you like? Something that brings back good memories?"

There was a long pause, so long Quatre gave up waiting for an answer. He did not break the silence however, not even when they started making their way to the parking lot, it was a comfortable silence and he could feel the thoughts running through Heero's head. Memories? Or something else? Had he even heard the question? The blonde could not imagine him missing anything.

"Ramen." He said suddenly, his voice barely audible over the sliding of the elevator's doors.

Quatre was familiar enough with Japanese cuisine to know what ramen was and he had a somewhat vague idea of how it was prepared. It did not seem particularly hard. He beamed, knowing he would be able to do it and in his head he started writing the shopping list until he felt Heero's troubled sadness wash over him. He frowned.

"What is it?" he inquired gently just as they reached the car.

"It's…"

The blonde could see him battling the instinct to hide his pain, the urge to lick his wounds only in private. He need not always look strong and invincible and Quatre really wanted him to realise that. They got in the car, Heero buying himself some time. Sandrock's former pilot would not allow him to retreat or lie though so he refrained from doing anything other than sit there. The engine remained off as did their seatbelts.

"It's my mother." He said finally. "Or what little I remember of her."

"I never knew my mother…" Quatre looked down at his hands. "She died giving birth to me."

Heero's eyes were suddenly on him, his gaze weighing a ton. "It's not your fault." He said and his conviction was nearly palpable. The blonde believed him, so much so he started to cry. Had he really blamed himself for her death all these years? Had he really believed he had been the one responsible?

Out of the corner of his eye he saw his friend's hand fist. Immediately he recalled the words he had told him, that they should keep their distance… That man had just absolved him…and of a crime he had not even known he had been charged with. He met Heero's eyes, his soul bare for him to see… Pain, longing, guilt, relief, gratitude. And then Quatre reached out and kissed him. It was slow and tender and breath-taking.

When he pulled away and met the other man's confused, almost hopeful – in a puppy like way – gaze, he made a decision. With no little difficulty he jumped over the gear shift to straddle Heero's lap. Hope turned into a surprise that bordered on panic. "What are you doing?" he whispered.

"Shhh…" Quatre said. "I just need a decent hug."

Heero took a deep shuddering breath and then slowly relaxed. Still it took him sometime to raise his arms and wrap them around the blonde. "Someone might see us." He said though the parking lot was pretty deserted.

"You care? I don't."

"But your family…"

"Screw them." His hold on Heero tightened as his voice threatened to crack. Why was the man nervous? Why had he decided to talk now of all times? And about Quatre's family of all things… "Let the paparazzi come. I don't care anymore." He mumbled against the other's neck. "You shouldn't care either."

"What about Relena?"

The blonde wanted to hit him. Why had he suddenly decided to grow a conscience? Where had that hormone driven mindless machine from days before gone? Quatre needed that. A lighter, cuddlier more sensitive version, but that was what he needed. "Relena's in love with Trowa." He answered before he could think twice about it. Was it wrong that he was using it as an excuse? Was it really an excuse or simply a 'reason'?

He could feel Heero's chest rumble against his as he chuckled. He sounded…relieved. "That's good." He said and Quatre pulled away to meet his eyes. There was the lingering trace of a smile on his lips. It made the blonde's heart beat a little faster. "I need to talk to her…tonight."

"Tonight? Isn't that a little soon?" he did not really think it was too soon, but he worried…

"Wufei saw us kissing."

Quatre feared his face was on fire. "He saw us? And he's threatened to tell Relena?"

"He's threatened to do something. I'm not sure what and am not willing to find out."

He sighed unsure whether to be angry at the Chinese man or grateful. His hands were playing with Heero's T-shirt collar. "That's worrisome."

"Hn." It sounded almost sleepy, distant. Their eyes met and Quatre could not resist kissing the other man again.

"It's getting late. We should go."

Heero nodded. They drove back in sad, but comfortable silence.