Disclaimer: Gundam Wing does not belong to me. This is just for fun...

Note: Many thanks to Kaeru Shisho for beta-reading, and to all the kind people who have left reviews.

Restraining Quatre:

He genuinely had the headache he'd complained about earlier. Duo would say it was a punishment for lying, but he'd never possessed Duo's fascination with telling the truth. The doctor had said he had mild concussion; add tension and the fact that Commander Une was staring at him with all the fascination of a snake confronting a plump rabbit, and it was no wonder that his skull felt like a Gundam was trying to take off inside it.

'What's on L3, Mr. Winner?'

'L3?' Quatre hoped his expression gave only bafflement at the question. Not anything else; not fear. 'I'm afraid I don't understand.'

'You don't want Barton to go there, do you?' She presented him with a sickly, unctuous smile. 'I wonder why not? As soon as I mentioned he was heading there, you stopped making excuses for him, and decided to co-operate.'

'I have no idea what you're talking about.'

Blast.

Winner, you idiot. But, dear Allah, he couldn't let have Trowa go to L3. He'd only be going there if he'd discovered something, and that would put him in far too much danger. That could ruin everything.

'Why did you sign the warrant for his arrest?'

'Naturally, I wish to co-operate with your investigation in every possible way, Commander.'

She snorted. 'More games? As you wish, then. I'm not in any hurry.' She settled comfortably in her chair, arms crossed.

I am.

He did not have time for this. Any of it.

'Please, Commander. I do understand that you're trying to keep me safe. I appreciate that. But my family must be frantic with worry by now. Can't I at least contact one of my sisters to inform them I'm safe?'

'We've talked about this already. Don't you remember? At the moment, we still have no real idea who was responsible for your abduction; it would be an act of supreme negligence on my part not to take every possible measure to ensure your safety.'

Allah, she was loving this, every second of this. He'd always been the untouchable pilot; the one who'd never been captured by OZ, the one Treize had wanted most. The one who'd spoken out openly, after the war, against ESUN policy toward the Colonies, against certain powers abused by the Preventers.

'Perhaps you can explain why I'm shackled to this bed?' He snapped. 'Why are their armed guards outside my door?'

'The guards are there to protect you, naturally.' Another oily smile. 'And you are being restrained at your physician's orders, not mine.'

'I'm sorry, Mr. Winner.' Dr. Marshall's apology sounded genuine, but who knew? Maybe she was involved too. He'd been told he couldn't trust anyone. 'You were thrashing around before you regained consciousness; we were afraid you might damage your ankle even more. I can loosen it, if it's painful?'

'No. Thank you. It's fine.' Quatre smiled at her; perhaps she was an ally. She'd stood up to Une for him already, but possibly it was all an act. He didn't need help, anyway. He had a plan. His fingers curled around the tiny cellphone he'd secreted under the bed covers.

Really, Commander. You should take better care of your property.

She'd all but presented it to him as a gift, leaning over the bed like she had. Of course, people never suspected that Quatre Winner might be an accomplished pickpocket. Duo had taught him that, years ago. The knack still came in useful, sometimes.

He was going to have to act soon, before she noticed it was missing. Besides, he'd been unconscious for two whole, wasted days…and every minute he spent indulging Une in this ridiculous cat and mouse game was another minute lost. No time….He just needed a few minutes alone, to make a couple of calls. He might as well need the moon; they weren't going to leave him alone.

Plan B then.

He had Wufei to thank for that particular ability; Wufei and all those years of meditation practise. Surely even Une wouldn't continue to interrogate a - suspect? Prisoner? Whatever he was? - who was going into cardiac arrest. Apparently.

Instead, he lay back and closed his eyes, like a good, docile little patient.

'Mr. Winner!' Une snapped. 'I haven't finished talking to you.'

Well, Commander, I've had more than enough of you.

Quatre opened his eyes and gazed piteously at the doctor. 'Please. I don't feel very well. Do you think I could have just a few moments' rest?'

'He's putting it on!' Une protested, standing and glaring down at him. 'Winner, that's enough! I am authorised to issue arrests for anyone whom I suspect is hindering the course of an investigation, do you realise that?'

'Commander Une!' Dr. Marshall sounded appalled. 'If you would care to look at the monitor, you can see that my patient's heartbeat is slowing down significantly. I hardly think that he is personally responsible for that? Now, unless you want to explain to him family and your superiors why a person in Preventers' custody died in your care, I suggest you leave this room and leave me to treat him?'

Bless you, Doctor.

Une went reluctantly, shadowed by her two agents, her protests carrying over Dr. Marshall's voice on her radio, summoning more medical staff.

He'd have to find some way to thank her when this was all over.

He had to get on with things. He had only a couple of minutes before the doctor's colleagues arrived; he'd have to silence her before he tried to use the 'phone. Just for a couple of minutes…

Stop shilly-shallying, Winner. You don't have time for this.

Heero would say he had a mission objective and just to get on with it.

First, he had to free himself. The restraint on his leg was very light; just a bandage holding his injured ankle in place and, thanks to Trowa, he had plenty of experience with escaping from various forms of bondage. Trowa had taught him the art during the war, and then later it had come in useful in other ways….

It was his own fault; he'd insisted on the cords being knotted so securely. Most of the time, they were really just symbolic. Most of the time, the illusion of being restrained was enough and he could usually free himself if he tried hard enough. Tonight, though, in the midst of this ongoing nightmare, he'd needed Trowa to have total control. He'd been able to relax for the first time in days, watching Tro test the knots, giving his lover total control.

It was something of an illusion, he knew that really. He only had to say one word and Trowa would stop, but it was still comforting. A brief period where he didn't have to be the one in charge for once.

Except that now he couldn't free himself and it didn't help that he couldn't see.

'Trowa?'

The other man mumbled something, nothing too coherent, and nuzzled Quatre's neck lovingly. Despite all the discomforts; his aching arms, that sure, throbbing pain deep inside him, Quatre had to smile. He could feel the contentment surging around Trowa; so strong it was almost a tangible thing. The afterglow of sex mingled with his love for Quatre, his delight in Quatre' s presence in his arms, in his life.

It was one of those rare moments when he appreciated the empathy, when he realised how lucky he was. Being able to feel Trowa's pleasure was almost enough to banish his own discomfort.

'Tro? Can you untie me?' He hated having to say it, disturbing Trowa when he was just starting to doze off, but his arms were starting to hurt.

'Mmmph?' He felt Tro stretch against him, heard the drowsiness in his voice.

They were both exhausted, after a week with only brief snatches of sleep. After the first couple of days, Quatre had had a bed moved into the room next to Duo's, so at least one of them could rest at a time. The hospital staff hadn't been too pleased, but they'd acquiesced as soon as Quatre had produced his cheque book. People always did; the merest mention of the Winner name and fortune tended to dissolve all obstacles. He sometimes thought that people, including his dear sisters, saw him as a walking credit card.

Still, after seven days by Duo's bedside, Trowa had decided that the two of them needed a proper break, and he'd booked them a room in a hotel close by. Quatre had flatly refused to leave their still unconscious friend at first, and only gave in when Trowa informed him that he had the option of leaving the hospital on his own two feet, or slung over his shoulder.

And Trowa had been perfectly right, he acknowledged. Quatre was starting to feel human again. Actually, just getting to be alone with his lover, away from the hospital, had helped.

'Why would I want to do that, angel?' Trowa wondered. 'I like having you like this. And I don't remember you complaining earlier.'

Quatre blushed, knowing it would make Trowa laugh at him. 'I've got a cramp in my arm. Can you untie me, Trowa, please?'

'My poor kitten. Why didn't you say something earlier?' The blindfold was slipped off, and Trowa reached up one long arm and flicked the knots deftly free. He turned Quatre's hands palm-up to check his wrists weren't chafed. They weren't; he'd used one of their special cords and the skin was only slightly reddened.

The first few times they'd done this, Trowa had used a belt or a scarf or anything that happened to be convenient. Then they'd found some on-line sites and bought the appropriate….accessories. Ordering them had been exhilarating, in one way; terrifying in another. A formal acknowledgement that it wasn't just something they'd tried once or twice, for kicks, but something he needed.

'Better now?' He wasn't just talking about the cramp, of course.

'Mmm,' Quatre sighed softly, snuggling against his lover, trying to pretend everything was all right. Trying to pretend that Duo wasn't unconscious, and that he himself hadn't pulled a gun on Heero. Lying in Trowa's arms, basking in the love he could feel radiating from his lover, the world somehow made sense again. 'This was a wonderful idea. Thank you for dragging me here.' He ran one hand over Trowa's chest, laying his palm over the heart and feeling the slow, steady rhythm.

Trowa was happy and he had no intention of spoiling that. The last week had been rough on him; Trowa had a hatred of hospitals that almost amounted to a phobia. Quatre's fault, of course. Letting himself get skewered by Dorothy Catalonia at the end of the War, almost a year ago, and then slitting his wrists. No wonder his boyfriend hated the very idea of hospitals.

Seeing Duo unconscious, with those horrific injuries had to be bringing back all sorts of nightmares.

'I'm sorry for being a brat earlier,' he said suddenly. 'You were right; we did both need some time away from the hospital. It's been so awful seeing Duo like that. Especially when we didn't know if he was going to live or - or not.'

'Worse for you, I think,' Trowa remarked shrewdly. 'You can't still feel him, can you? Not at this distance? Good.' One hand slid over Quatre's, lacing their fingers together. 'I know you wanted to stay, love. But you need to think about yourself a little; we both have to be strong for this. You won't be able to help Duo if you get sick yourself.'

'I know. It .. helps. Not having his emotions all the time. It was getting really difficult.'

'I did notice,' Trowa told him wryly. 'So, I take it you've forgiven me for dragging you here?'

'Of course I have! About two seconds after you threw me on to the bed.' Quatre proved it by leaning over and giving him a kiss with lavish use of tongue, and a few little nips and bites thrown in for good measure. 'I love it when you get all masterful.'

Trowa just smiled, running his fingers gently through blond hair. 'At your service, as always. And if someone doesn't stop you having your own way all the time, you'll get spoilt. Well, more than you already are,' he murmured, all traces of tiredness suddenly gone, and using the voice he reserved for bed. It slid across Quatre's mind like rough velvet, sent a spurt of blood rushing to his groin. Trowa had near-unlimited staying power, which was fine normally. Better than fine.

'I'm not in the least spoilt!' Quatre protested, arching his back as Trowa's lips found that impossibly sensitive little place under his jaw. 'Well, maybe just a little. And I 'd like to be able to walk out of this room, if you don't mind.'

'Walking's over-rated,' Trowa purred, brushing the pad of one finger across Quatre's mouth. 'I could carry you, if you liked. How do you think all your executives would react if they saw their boss being carried around naked by his bodyguard, hmm?'

Quatre gave a little gasp, despite himself. Trowa knew him far, far too well. 'Oh? I'm naked in this fantasy of yours, am I?'

Trowa grinned. 'You're always naked in my fantasies, sprite. I thought you knew that. Well, except the one where you're in a tuxedo so that I can rip it off you.'

'I think that might count as being naked,' Quatre offered, smiling into the dark green eyes. 'And I don't think it's technically a fantasy if it's actually happened. Several times.'

'Maybe not,' Trowa allowed. 'Still, I'm sure we could improvise if you're feeling a little sore down there? You could go on top this time.'

'A little sore!' Quatre snorted. 'I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to sit down again. Or walk, come to that.'

Trowa's grin was gloriously unrepentant. Oh well, he'd tried to be gentle but that wasn't what Quatre had needed. If he was sore, it was his own fault entirely. It was the first time they'd shared a bed since Duo's accident. The first time they'd really been together in a week. He'd wanted it hard and fast and rough from the start, but Trowa had refused, had drawn out every kiss and caress until Quatre's whole body had melted to liquid desire.

'I wouldn't talk about coming if I were you, kitten, unless you're …prepared to suffer the consequences, shall we say?'

Quatre's loud groan at the word 'prepared' only made him smirk wider. In this mood, Trowa would find the most innocent statement wholly suggestive. He slid Trowa's messy, sweaty bangs aside and dropped a kiss on his forehead. 'I really need to clean up a little bit, Tro.'

'No you don't.' An arm settled firmly around Quatre's shoulders, keeping him in place. 'You need to stay here with me, and we'll take a nice, long bath together in a minute, OK?' He nuzzled Quatre's neck, leaving a hot, moist trail of kisses and an occasional bite on the fair skin. 'No point cleaning up if we're just going to get all dirty and messy again, is there?'

'I'll just be a moment,' Quatre slid under his arm and out of the bed. 'Honestly, I'm all sticky and I was lying in the wet spot. '

'Actually, I like it when you're all sticky and sweaty and smelling of sex.'

It was one of the few areas where they didn't quite see eye to eye. Quatre liked his bed linen to be clean and fresh; Trowa didn't care. After years as a mercenary, sleeping on the ground more often than not, he saw nothing wrong with having a couple of little damp spots on a luxurious bed. Even if he'd been the one to bottom, he didn't have Quatre's fanatical urge to clean up afterwards.

'You're such a princess sometimes,' he teased, rolling on to his back and leering at his lover.

Quatre stuck out his tongue, fleeing into the bathroom before Trowa could pursue him, and suggest a few different things a devoted and loving boyfriend could do with said tongue.

He half-expected Trowa to follow, and felt a little stab of relief when the 'phone in their bedroom rang, and his lover's deep voice answered. Normally, he loved sharing showers, but he just wanted a few minutes alone for once.

The past week had been impossibly difficult. The only chances he'd had to be alone were when he was by himself in Duo's room for a few minutes and that didn't count.

Not when he could still feel all of Duo's emotions surging over him. He'd learned to control the empathy to some extent. It wasn't possible, though, when he was in such close proximity to his best friend,

As Duo would say, it had been one hell of a week. One hell of a month, really. Duo had arrived on L4 in early December, carrying the battered holdall he'd had since the war, and saying that he and Heero had decided to take a 'break' from each other.

Under the circumstances, it had seemed like a good idea for them to have a little time apart, and Duo hadn't seem too downcast. According to him, it had been a more-or-less mutual decision to give each other a little space and work out what they wanted.

Duo spoke to Heero every couple of days, and things seemed to be going well. Heero had confided to Quatre his intention to resign from Preventers at the end of the month, he was looking at college courses for himself and he hoped to persuade Duo to consider that option in the future.

Quatre had been looking forward to the First Remembrance Day Banquet for weeks. Away from his sisters' censorial gaze, he and Trowa would be able to have fun and relax, Heero was planning to romance Duo and convince him to try again,

Everything had gone wrong. Every single thing.

He and Trowa had been dancing and happily speculating on what Heero and Duo were up to on the terrace. That, at least, had been wonderful; for this one, special night, they'd decided to throw caution to the winds and toss aside the usual masquerade. He and Trowa had surely contributed as much to the new world as anyone. They deserved a chance to be happy together.

There had been a fireworks display at midnight, to welcome in Christmas Day, and the second year of the peace. Most of the guests had clustered by the ballroom windows to watch, but Trowa had pulled him aside and delivered a heart-felt Christmas kiss.

And then the perfection had swung into a total nightmare. At first, he'd had a stupid notion that maybe the armed, masked men bursting into the room were some sort of Earth tradition that nobody had told him about; an updated version of the Father Christmas legend.

Five minutes before midnight, he'd been hoping that everything was going well with Duo and Heero, and wondering whether Trowa would like his Christmas present. Not that either of them really knew anything about the Christian holiday, but he loved any excuse to spoil Trowa.

In the space of a few minutes, the nightmare had taken over. Trowa had killed the first man who'd entered the room and Quatre had grabbed his gun as it slid across the floor, taking up a position under one of the banqueting tables. Most of the Sanque guards had already gone down in the first hail of bullets.

There had been an insane few minutes when Duo and Trowa had vanished outside and he hadn't known what was happening. They'd both been laughing when they came back into the ballroom, that was the thing he remembered most clearly. In the midst of all the devastation, they'd been teasing each other, and exchanging some sort of intricate handclasp.

It stood out so clearly in him memory, that moment. The last time he'd seen Duo laughing. Shinigami, rather, capable of joking while surrounded by bodies and bloodshed.

Then he'd seen Heero and Relena together, and felt the backlash of Duo's horror and devestation…

Quatre turned the shower onto its hottest setting, forcing himself to stand still as the little needles of lava-hot water flayed his skin.

It didn't wash away the guilt, though.

Guilt that he was happy and loved and so very much in love that sometimes it seemed like a dream, while his best friend had almost died.

They'd said he was finally stable yesterday, after the third blood transfusion. Given his injuries, though, that didn't mean a huge amount. The surgeons still had to perform a second kidney transplant, when a match became available. And there was still the very real possibility of permanent brain damage.

'Oh, angel,' Quatre hadn't even realised he was crying until Trowa was there, pulling him out of the shower and wiping the tears away. 'Don't love. Please.'

'I can't help it,' Quatre sobbed. 'I keep seeing things in my head. And I know how Duo felt when he saw Heero with Relena. I felt it, Tro.'

He'd seen them; Heero and Relena embracing. He'd seen the look on Duo's face and felt that stab of despair and betrayal and loss as he'd seen them together.

'Stop that,' Trowa's voice rang out sharply. 'I know how much you're hurting, Quatre, but getting yourself worked up isn't going to help anyone.'

Quatre scrubbed one hand across his eyes, trying to calm down a little, to concentrate on Trowa's voice.

'Better,' the taller man approved. He ran a flannel under the cold water tap and bathed his lover's face gently. 'Listen to me, Quatre. What happened to Duo is terrible, but he's alive. That's the important thing. You know he's tough; he's going to get through this, but he's going to need us to be strong for him.' Long fingers grasped Quatre's chin, forcing him to look up into the green eyes.

'And you have got to stop blaming yourself. You are in no way responsible for what happened, understand?'

'But…'

'No!' Trowa said forcefully. 'I want you to stop that. You are not going to torture yourself trying to find a way to blame yourself for all of this. Agreed?'

Quatre nodded dumbly. It wasn't exactly a lie; more a piece of sophistry that Duo himself would approve of. He didn't need to find ways to blame himself; he already knew exactly what he'd done.

He'd known just how hard adjusting to civilian life had been for his best friend. Well, had for both of them, really, but at least Heero had had Preventers. Always another mission to occupy him and keep him away from Duo's side.

He'd known Duo had been unhappy; they'd always confided everything. Duo had told him all his problems and Quatre had done precisely nothing to help. Oh, he'd been a sympathetic listener but that was all. Trowa had told him very firmly not to interfere in other people's relationships, and that Duo and Heero could work out their own problems. And he'd believed him, because he'd believed Heero loved Duo, would do anything for Duo.

'I mean it, Quatre,' Trowa said firmly. 'If you keep on this self-persecution kick, I'm going to dump you in a bath of ice-cold water.'

'Don't do that! Please.' Quatre shuddered, and his eyes flickered nervously to the bathtub. He hated the cold, and knew from bitter experience that his lover would quite happily carry out his threat. Trowa was indulgent up to a point, but more than capable of firmness when he sensed Quatre was starting to lose control.

'Don't make me, then. Listen, my sweet. No one could possibly have been a better friend to Duo - to both of them - than you. You did everything anyone possibly could have, and it isn't your fault.'

'I'm not so sure,' Quatre whispered. 'Maybe if I hadn't been so involved with WEI, I could have…'

'You could have what? 'Trowa demanded. 'You were busy with WEI, yes, but we still saw Duo at least once a month. You never refused to take one of his calls, whatever else you were doing; you spoke to him at least once a day. I can't see what more you could have done, truly. Now, much as I like having you all wet and naked like this, we need to get you dried off, OK?'

'Who was that you were talking to on the 'phone?'

'Duo's chief surgeon. Dr. Marani.'

'What?' Quatre flashed, jerking out of Trowa's arms. 'Has something happened? I can't believe you didn't call me to talk to her! Why didn't you tell me before now?'

'I'm trying to tell you now, if you'd stop shouting at me for long enough.'

'You've no right to keep something like that from me! I'm Duo's best friend and I'm entitled to know what's going on with him.'

'Calm down, Quatre,' Trowa said sharply. 'Don't talk to me like that. And it would be nice if you could trust me to look after things for two seconds. You're not the only person who's worried sick about Duo, and you're not entitled to anything if you carry on like a spoilt child.'

Quatre flinched, not from Trowa's tone, but from the sudden, swift flare of anger. Drat. Stupid. He'd ruined their lovely intimate moment.

'I'm sorry, Tro. You know I trust you; I never meant I didn't. More than anything. It's just….'

'Duo. I know. Come here.' Quatre stepped back into his embrace, laying his head on Trowa's shoulder. 'Hey, it's OK,' Trowa soothed, wrapping his lover's shivering body in his arms. 'I know this is all a nightmare, baby, but we've got to hold it together, right? I just wanted to give you a few minutes by yourself, and it wasn't urgent anyway. There's no change in Duo's condition, but she wants to see us both at two this afternoon.'

'Not until then? That's hours away, Trowa! Why can't she talk to us before then?'

'Well, she presumably does have other patients to look after,' Trowa suggested. 'She wants to discuss a plan for Duo's long term care.'

'Oh.' Quatre considered that. In one way, it was a positive thing; that at least Duo had a future to be planned for. ''I see. That's ... good, isn't it? At least she's admitting that he has a future. That he's going to make it.'

Trowa squeezed his hand gently. 'Absolutely. But we have to be prepared for the long haul, Quat. There isn't going to be a miraculous recovery, not given the extent of his injuries. They can't tell yet if there's going to be brain damage, or if he'll make a full physical recovery.'

'What else did she say?'

Trowa hesitated before he answered. 'Come back to bed, Quatre. There are a few things we need to talk about before the meeting.'

'What things?' Quatre shook off his lover's hand. 'Just tell me, please.'

'All right.' Trowa perched on the bathtub and pulled the blond between his legs. 'She said there is a chance, given the extent of Duo's injuries, that they may well decide to keep him in the medical coma for longer.'

'No!' Quatre shook his head vehemently. 'Tro, that's cruel. They can't do that to him, just leave him lying there for….how long? Months?'

'Stop that.' Trowa said firmly. 'Quatre, at this stage it is nothing more than a possibility, but it's the best thing for Duo, then we'll accept it, understand? And I don't want you freaking out at the meeting when it's suggested. Shouting at Duo's medical team won't help anybody.'

Quatre took a deep breath. 'I know. I'm sorry. It just sounds so - cold blooded. But I promise I won't throw a tantrum this afternoon.'

'Good.' Trowa leaned forward and gave him a gentle kiss on the mouth. 'I hate the idea as well, my love, but we have to do what's best for Duo. If that's what his medical team recommends, then that's what we do. Now,' he glanced at his watch. 'It's almost eight o'clock. We're going to go back to bed, I'm going to hand-feed you a huge breakfast, and then we're going to soak in this tub for an hour. How's that sound?'

'Wonderful,' Quatre breathed, meaning it. 'But I should be with Duo, really.'

'Correction.' Quatre jumped as Trowa's hand smacked lightly across his buttocks. 'Hilde and Howard are with Duo; they deserve some time with him when they've come all the way from L2. And Wufei's there as well.'

'I still don't understand that. It's not as if Wufei even likes Duo. The last time we spoke, he suggested Duo needed some sort of professional help to adjust. Honestly! It's not as if he can talk.'

'He may disapprove of some aspects of Duo's life, but I think he still sees him as a comrade.'

'Some aspects?' Quatre grimaced. 'You mean he disapproves of everything about Duo, don't you? And he feels exactly the same way about us.'

'He hasn't said anything to you, kitten, has he? I'm not going to let him upset you again.'

Quatre sighed. 'It's all right, Tro. That was probably my own fault; I pushed him too hard and he just lashed out. I just thought - well, he's obviously very lonely and he doesn't have any other friends.'

'You were only trying to be nice,' Trowa said tightly. 'I know all of this is difficult for him, but he's not doing himself any favours if he insults the few people who are willing to try to help him.'

'I think that's the problem. He can't admit that he needs help. And this is impossibly hard for him; he lost all the people he cared about, he has to adjust to an entirely new culture. He's horribly lonely, you know. He and Heero had a row a couple of months ago, and you know how much he respected Heero. Just - don't be too hard on him, Tro. Half the time, he doesn't realise how arrogant he sounds.'

'Hmmm. I think you're being overly generous, as usual. He did accuse me of being your pampered poodle, remember? Among a few other charming names.'

'Wholly ridiculous,' the blond grinned suddenly. 'You're not remotely like a poodle; a Yorkshire Terrier, maybe, with your hair falling over your eyes. Perhaps we could get one of those little red bows to tie it back? That would look awfully cute.'

'If you ever dare to suggest such a thing again, my lovely, I'll have you over my knee before you can blink.'

'Ooh! Promises, promises!' Quatre squirmed happily as Trowa pulled him closer. 'You really do spoil me, don't you?'

'I'll have you know that was a threat, Winner, but yes, I like spoiling you. And you should be devoting some time to your boyfriend.'

'Yes, Master,' the blond head lowered demurely, but the blue eyes were sparkling. 'I'm sorry, Tro. It's just been so difficult with everything that's happened lately. You do know you're the most important thing in my life, don't you?'

'Of course I do,' Trowa assured him. 'You tell me constantly. And show me. Now, are you going to be sensible about all this, do I have to run you a nice, cold bath?'

'No!' Quatre squeaked, flicking an apprehensive glance toward the tub. 'Oh! There's a spider.' He backed away a couple of paces. 'It's in the corner of the bath. It just moved.'

'Let's see,' Trowa twisted around, and caught the little insect deftly.

'Don't hurt it, Tro.' Quatre felt a sudden twinge of guilt that the poor little creature was being ejected from its cosy home and thrown out into the cold.

'I'm not going to.' Trowa scooped up the little insect and carefully dropped it onto the window sill. 'He'll be fine outside, he can tell all his buddies about life in the World of Humans. There, you're safe now. We're totally spider free.'

'I'm not scared, or anything,' Quatre said defensively. 'They're just so weird; they don't look natural. And they can move so fast, with all those legs.'

'And sometimes they even have hairy ones,' Trowa teased. 'Don't worry, kitling. I'll always defend you from spiders.' He ruffled Quatre's hair. 'I love getting the chance to show off my incredible affinity with the animal kingdom. Now, weren't we talking about going back to bed?'

'One of us was, anyway,' Quatre tried to sound resigned to his appalling fate. 'And I was selflessly going to indulge you. As always.'

'Good boy,' Trowa laughed and tugged him back into the bedroom. 'I like being indulged. You're far too tense, kitten. You need to relax a little bit, OK? Duo's alive and stable and we'll work everything else out between us. I promise.'

Quatre yelped with laughter as Trowa swept him up and dumped him on to the bed. Maybe he was right. After all, Duo was alive and Quatre would see that he had the best medical care in the entire universe.

'OK,' he whispered against Trowa's dark hair. 'I'll try.'

Trowa pulled him into a deep kiss that had all his nerve endings rocketing into orbit . 'See? You are capable of following simple commands when you try. Now, I'm going to order breakfast and see that you eat properly. You know you get cranky if you don't eat regularly.'

An hour later, Trowa had succeeded not merely in relaxing him, but in making him forget the entire outside world. As promised, Trowa had fed him forkfuls of Eggs Benedict and tropical fruit salad, before proceeding to find all sorts of interestingly inventive ways to eat his own pancakes.

He was a very…creative lover, was Mr. Trowa Barton. It was eighteen months since their first time in San Francisco, and sex was still a revelation. It could be either a gentle homecoming, or a whirlwind that swept them both out of reality. And Trowa always knew just what his lover needed.

The sheets were a sad mess of cream, crushed strawberries and crumbs, but for once Quatre didn't care. It was hard to care about anything, really, when his whole body was still vibrating with such pleasure. Trowa had explored every inch of his body, flavoured with cream and maple syrup, with lips and tongue and teeth, and then lowered himself onto Quatre's erection.

Exactly what had happened after that was still lost in a haze of purest pleasure. They'd both dozed off at some point, from sheer exhaustion, and he'd been woken by Trowa's sticky, syrupy kisses. Actually, pretty much everything on the bed, including themselves, was a sticky, syrupy morass but it had been worth it.

'I really pity the poor chambermaid who has to clean up this bed.'

'You weren't thinking of the poor chambermaid a few minutes ago, were you? We'll leave a nice tip, if that makes you feel better,' Trowa promised. 'You know, we should probably look at finding our own place near here. This is fine for a couple of nights but I'd rather not live in a hotel long term.'

Quatre had been lazily skimming the fingers of one hand over Trowa's skin, but that made him sit up. 'What do you mean?'

Trowa's expression was carefully bland. 'Work it out, kit. It's not like either of us is planning to leave Duo any time soon, and we can't take him into space in his condition. Which means we move here, right?'