Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the GW universe and make no monetary profit from writing.

Chapter 85/94 - Delphi and Delphiniums:

He kept his email account open, but Quatre didn't write back. Trowa read back over their brief exchange until he knew Quat's replies by heart. There wasn't much else to do, until he reached L4 airspace.

The few mouthfuls of coffee left in the flask tasted disgusting; stone cold and of the approximate consistency of mud. Shit, freshly boiled mud would probably have tasted better. He drank it anyway, using it to wash down a handful of pills, and tried to remember when he'd last slept.

He'd got spoilt, since Quatre. Before him, he'd never even have considered the taste or temperature of anything. A lot of things had changed, since Quatre.

He read back over the emails, and then settled back in his seat, trying to think of a nice memory to laze around in. Something with him and Quat, before L4. Just the two of them, happy.

When they'd first arrived at the safe house, Quatre and Duo had gone into raptures about the old farmhouse and its overgrown gardens. Trowa and Heero had exchanged indulgent glances and gone off to set up a security system around the perimeter.

Four days later, Trowa pulled into the drive and had to admit it looked cosy enough, with lights in the downstairs windows and an ominous, lazy plume of smoke curling out of the slightly crooked chimney. Shit. Quatre had probably tried to start dinner and set the place on fire. He pressed the car horn before flashing his headlights three times, then four; the signal they'd pre-arranged, and Quatre came running out.

Quatre kissed him, a swift, sweet flick of his tongue against Trowa's mouth. 'I was starting to worry about you. Is everything all right? Did Duo and Heero get off safely?'

Duo. Of course.

'Yeah.' Trowa opened the back door and began to unload bags of groceries. 'I thought once I was in town I'd do some shopping. Save us from having to go back.'

'What a good idea.' Quatre took a couple of bags from him. 'I'm so happy you're back, and I know it's mean because I do like the other two, but I love that it's just us for a while.'

'Me too,' Trowa admitted, shifting the bags to his right hand so he could hold Quatre's with the other. Maybe he'd been wrong about everything after all. He loved that it was just him and Quatre, and he didn't like the other two remotely; Yuy was probably hardwired to his computer and never spoke a bloody word to anyone, and bloody Maxwell never shut up.

The kitchen, when they went inside, was lit only by candles. 'Damn. Did the power go off? I was a bit worried we'd blow a fuse with all Heero's surveillance stuff.'

Quatre blushed. 'Um, no. I thought it would be nice, with just the two of us. Romantic. It was silly.'

Oh, shit. Shit. He was such a moron. Looking around, he could see Quatre had put a jug full of blue flowers on the table, and lit the fire and piled cushions and pillows around the fireplace. Duo Maxwell would never have said something so bloody stupid.

'It is nice,' he said quickly. 'I like the flowers.'

'Aren't they lovely? Heero told me they're called delphiniums.'

Heero would know, of course. He knew more pointless crap than anyone Trowa had ever met.

'Delphiniums,' Trowa repeated. 'After that place, Delphi? It's in Europe, right? Greece?'

Quatre nodded. 'The Ancient Greeks had a famous Oracle there.'

'Yeah. D'you believe in all that?'

'I don't know. People did for centuries, though. There must have been something in it. I'm not really sure if I'd want to know the future, actually; would you? Maybe if it was good; then you'd have something to look forward to.'

Trowa shrugged; that was the difference between them. He'd want to know the bad things, to be prepared for the worst. But then he always was anyway. Like now.

'There's a woman at the circus who tells fortunes; claims she's an Irish gypsy. She's just a fake though. She tells everyone they're going to go on a long journey and have adventures and fall in love with a handsome stranger.'

'Well,' Quatre said simply, smiling, 'if she'd said that to me, it would have been true.'

'Yeah,' Trowa said, breathless. 'Me too.' Maybe things were all right between them. He pulled a flower out of the vase on the table, looking at it. He knew a bit about plants; not the Latin names like Heero did, but which leaves and roots could be eaten, and which ones grew in bogs or marshland, or which had a strong enough scent that you could use them to confuse tracker dogs. He'd never really looked at a flower and just thought that it was pretty.

'Delphiniums,' he said again, liking the sound. They were pretty. He reached across the table, brushing Quatre's cheek with the petals. 'They're the same colour as your eyes. Quatre-coloured. Now, are you going to come here or do I have to chase you around the kitchen before I can kiss you?'

'Chase me,' Quatre challenged, and ran. Ten minutes later they were on opposite sides of the table, breathless and dizzy and laughing and the floor was an obstacle course of overturned chairs and scattered groceries. Quatre slid his eyes toward the closed door, feinted to the right and then ducked under the other side of the table. Trowa vaulted over it and grabbed him when he tried to double back, pinning him against the table. The game had gone on long enough, and the little blond was stronger than he looked and way sneakier.

'Got you.'

'Got me,' Quatre agreed, looking fairly smug about it.

'Oh, yeah.' Trowa smoothed tousled fair hair out of his eyes, and tucked the slightly bedraggled spray of flowers behind his ear. 'There now.' Quatre's lashes fluttered, half-closed to slits of blue, as Trowa leaned in, tasting sunlight and sweet mint tea. It was gentle until Quatre started kissing him back, arms winding around Trowa's neck.

Then he hooked one leg around Trowa's hip, pressing closer, and Trowa's hands skimmed over his sides, and down, cupping his ass. Since those first, tentative kisses in San Francisco, they'd come a long way. Pun intended, sort of.

Oh, God.

'Quatre,' Trowa managed, over the thrumming of blood in his veins, 'is this OK?'

'I don't know,' Quatre gasped. He'd fisted his hands in Trowa's hair, something that might have been painful if every nerve centre in his body wasn't centred somewhere else. 'I don't…oh!'

Trowa lowered him gently down on to the table and followed, propping elbows on either side of the bright blond head, and cutting off Quatre's little gasp with more kisses, angling his body closer, trying to find more friction, more pressure, just more. He slid one hand under Quatre's waistband, finding the silk of his shorts, and then underneath, hot, silky heat.

He came at just a few strokes,, his hips arching upwards and then collapsing back down.

'Oh.' He sat up, rubbing the back of his head where it had whacked the hard wooden table. 'Ouch!'

'Sorry.'

'It wasn't your fault.' He licked his lips, and then grinned, looking at the very significant bulge in Trowa's jeans, eyebrows raised. 'Trowa?'

'Oh, God. Please.' He stumbled a couple of steps back, leaning against the wall, watching Quatre slide off the table and drop to his knees. He'd had other guys blow him before, but never like Quatre Winner, who practically made it into an art form. The empathy was probably a big part of it, and then he was the supreme strategist, always, and a perfectionist who believed in lots of practice. Trowa thought it was quite possible that he'd die of ecstasy at some point, while Quatre was honing his skills.

Not at all a bad way to go.

After, he couldn't do much for a minute but sag against the wall, and grin weakly down at Quatre. 'That was amazing, kit.'

'Good.' Quatre smiled, and then flushed, looking down at the floor. 'Um. Tro. I think I'll just run upstairs and get changed, and you know, clean up a bit. I won't be long. Just a minute. Then we can eat. I'll only be a sec.' He was still babbling as he fled out the door.

He took long enough that Trowa had time to wash in the downstairs cloakroom, and reheat the takeaway in the microwave. He was just starting to worry that he'd done something wrong, that Quat had felt pressured or unsure or who knew what, when the blond came back down..

He looked a bit self-conscious, but he smiled prettily at Trowa as he sat down and he still had the blue flower behind his ear. They were OK then. It was just Quat being shy. Fair enough. They'd messed around a fair bit, the two of them, but only ever behind barred doors and in darkness; never like that.

'That smells delicious.'

'I got Indian. Is that OK?'

'Wonderful. Honestly, once it's not pizza, anything's fine. I don't think I'll ever want to eat it again, after the last few days.'

Trowa made a face. 'Don't remind me. Someone's going to have to tell Maxwell that there are other kinds of food in the universe.'

'Maybe someone should tell Heero.' Quatre went to the fridge to take out some bottles of water, and shot Trowa a sly little smile. 'He's the one who's been ordering the food.. We should be grateful that Duo doesn't like something horrid, like tripe.'

'I wouldn't let anyone feed you tripe, kitten. Hey, I forgot, I got you something,' Trowa said suddenly, reaching under his chair for the brown paper bag, hoping Quatre would be pleased..

There'd been a second-hand book shop beside the supermarket; Trowa had gone in after seeing the stack of Global Geographic magazines in the window. On any of the Colonies, a real magazine in paper would have cost a fortune; he'd paid half-nothing for an armful and while he was at the till he'd seen the shelf of romance novels.

Quatre loved reading; the only person Trowa had ever met who liked actual books as much as he did, and he never seemed to have enough to read. Hoping no one was watching him, Trowa had gone through the selection on the shelf, choosing a couple that Quatre might enjoy. He liked historical fiction, especially with masterfully dashing, yet sensitive, pirate captains or Vikings.

'That's so kind.' Quatre beamed up at him. 'Now we can sit by the fire and read after dinner.'

'Just read? After you've set up all the romantic stuff?'

Quatre bit his lip. 'Well. Do you think we could talk about something first?'

Trowa's heart plummeted. This was it, then. Of course, Quatre was far too honourable to keep him hanging, and Duo Maxwell might be mad as a brush but he was also charming and funny and outgoing and optimistic and a million other things Trowa wasn't. Of course Quatre would want to be with him. Stupid to even dream otherwise.

He still didn't want to hear Quatre say the words. Not yet. Trying to make his voice casual, he nodded. 'Sure. Is this another super power you forgot to tell me about?'

Quatre gasped and then laughed; his usual reaction to Trowa joking about the empathy. Trowa didn't really care, not all that much anyway. In an ideal world, he would have preferred a boyfriend who couldn't tell what he was feeling, but the world wasn't ideal and Quatre was who he was and that was that.

'No. Nothing like that at all.' He broke a leaf off a spray of flowers and began to shred it. A habit he'd picked up from Duo; he'd never really fidgeted with things before.

'It's about something that happened in Toronto actually.'

Trowa nodded; he'd known it, pretty much. Duo and Quatre had spent a week together on a mission, just the two of them. Since coming back, Quatre had been…different. Distant and less affectionate than usual, and a little skittish when Trowa had tried to touch him. The way he'd been when they first met, almost, when he'd been wary of even the thought of sex. Of course, something had happened.

'I should have told you before,' Quatre said quietly. 'But I never really had a chance, until now. Duo and I went to an adultgaysexshop,'

He said it in a rush and it took Trowa a minute to figure out exactly what he'd said. 'You went where?'

'Oh, Trowa, it was awful,' Quatre breathed. 'There were all sorts of whips and chains and – well, things, and Duo got a catalogue and I looked at that when we got back to our hotel and I do love you, but I don't want to do anything like that, ever, so maybe I'm not really gay, and…'

'Stop it!' Trowa ordered, in the voice he'd used in the circus ring, with the big cats. 'Quatre, look at me. Have you ever wanted to tie me up and beat me?'

'No!'

'You want me to do it to you?'

'Of course not!'

'Some people are into that stuff. We're not. You like the stuff we do, right? What we did before dinner? You certainly looked like you were enjoying yourself.'

'Oh, yes.' He blushed scarlet but held Trowa's gaze. 'Very much.'

'Right then. End of story.'

'Really?' Quatre was gazing at him like he'd just….done something amazing.

Oh, fuck it. If bloody Maxwell wanted Quatre, he could damn well go through Trowa first. Quatre was his.

'Now, what the hell was Duo Maxwell doing taking you into a porn shop?'

'I asked him,' Quatre said in a very small voice. 'We were out shopping and I saw the window and I thought….well, I don't know very much about that sort of thing, and I just wanted to look. We'd been having such fun. We were staying in the gay quarter and there were other boys going around holding hands and nobody cared. We bought clothes and we were going to go to a club and…'

'You were what?' Trowa bellowed. God. They'd have been eaten alive, the pair of them. Literally.

Quatre sniffed. 'I know we shouldn't have, but we had fake IDs saying we were over eighteen, and we thought it would be fun.'

Oh, fuck. For a smart guy, Quatre really shouldn't be let out alone. Or with Duo. Preferably never with Duo.

'Look. I don't care about your stupid fake ID cards but you can't go into places like that. They're not safe.'

'But we wouldn't have talked to any strangers or bought alcohol or anything like that,' Quatre protested. 'We just wanted to dance a little bit.'

'Yeah, and I can promise it wouldn't be what anyone else in the club wanted, once they'd seen you.'

'I can take care of myself,' Quatre flashed. 'And so can Duo.'

'You haven't a fucking clue,' Trowa said brutally. 'You've never been anywhere like that in your life; you don't know what sorts of people hang around those places. Anything could have happened, or no, I know damn well what would have happened to the pair of you.'

'I'm sorry,' Quatre whispered. 'Please, stop shouting at me. We just wanted to do something…normal. Like other teenagers.'

'Oh, Kitten.' Trowa pulled him into his arms. 'I'm not mad at you, OK? Listen. If you want to go to places like that, you ask me, not Duo Maxwell. He's not your boyfriend; I am. Got that?'

Quatre nodded. 'Of course I won't if you don't like it. But Trowa, he's not….um, I'm not, ah, attracted to him or anything. He's just my friend.'

'Right,' Trowa muttered, feeling he'd possibly made a bit of a fool of himself. Quatre didn't seem to mind too much though, snuggling against him. 'That's OK, then.'

'You're so sweet,' Quatre pressed a kiss to one corner of his mouth.

'I am not!'

'Yes, you are.' He tucked his gleaming blond head under Trowa's chin. 'I love you.'

It still amazed Trowa; that he could just say it like that. 'Me too,' he managed, the most he'd ever been able to say when Quatre was awake.

'I know,' Quatre's mouth curved slightly. 'Superpowers, remember? I'm sorry about the last few weeks. I thought maybe if you were gay you had to use all those things.'

'You're such an idiot,' Trowa said fondly.

'Duo says I have blond moments. I don't understand what that means. Actually, I don't understand a lot of what he says.'

'Well, he's nuts.' Trowa helped himself to a forkful of chicken Biryani – no sense in letting good food go to waste and they'd done all the emotional stuff – and then fed a forkful to Quatre. 'I mean, he's got a thing for Heero. That proves it if anything does.' He broke off a bit of Nan bread for Quatre, who licked his fingers as he took it. 'God knows what he sees in him.'

'Those eyes,' Quatre said at once. 'And, well, he can be nice, sometimes.'

Trowa lifted an eyebrow at him. 'Seriously? Is Heero the one I should be worried about?'

Quat gave him a saucy little smile. 'Maybe you should. But I'm not the one he's interested in. We really have to try harder to get him and Duo together, you know. You're going to have to talk to Heero.'

'How come I'm the one who has to talk to him?' Trowa protested. 'He likes you.'

'Because I'm Duo's friend,' Quatre said, rather proudly. 'And it will serve you right, for thinking I'd ever prefer anyone to you.'

'It's not that I don't trust you,' Trowa said. 'Really. It's …I don't know. I'm stupid sometimes.' He shrugged around a mouthful of food. 'And Maxwell is bloody gorgeous.'

'I've noticed,' Quatre agreed, a shade too emphatically, and then blushed. 'In a purely objective way, I mean. You don't mind us just…being friends, do you? It's so nice having a best friend.'

''Course not. Once you stop hanging around porno shops with him.'

'I never, never want to go anywhere like that again!' Quatre said feelingly. 'We drank gin as well. I had two glasses. Oh, it was awful! I was so sick and then Duo showed me a brochure he'd got in the shop with picture of all sorts of…of sex things, and how to use them, and I got sick again.'

Trowa had to laugh, imagining it. 'Serves you damn well right.'

'It wasn't funny. I'm never, ever going to drink again. I'm not surprised it's prohibited.'

Trowa sobered suddenly. 'Does your religion prohibit us as well? You being with a guy?'

Quatre shook his head. 'I don't care about any of that,' he said, too quickly. 'I love you. Nothing else matters.' He burrowed deeper into Trowa's arms. 'I don't care about anything else.'

'Hey.' Trowa kissed the top of his head. 'It's OK. We've got this whole house to ourselves and the whole evening and a tonne of food. It's all good. Now, what d'you want to eat next?'

It was good, for the present anyway. Even if he was just another part of Quatre's rebellion against his life, it didn't matter. At least they had this. After dinner, Quatre washed up, and Trowa picked up the dishes he'd broken and re-washed the whole ones, and they took their books to lie in front of the fire, and Trowa showed Quatre the more spectacular photos and Quatre read some of the sappier parts of his new books out loud.

'Why d'you only read straight romances?'

'Well, they're the only ones there are. Aren't they? Are there stories with two men?'

'Sure. There's tonnes of stuff on line. Mostly porn, but I'm sure we could find some of the sappy stuff you like too.'

'I looked up some sites once, when I was at home,' Quatre told him. 'But I was always scared to log on in case someone found out.'

'I think we kind of have bigger stuff to hide right now,' Trowa said dryly.

'I suppose we do, yes.' Quatre turned over to flop on his stomach and look into the fire. 'What we did before, Trowa… I really liked it.'

'Yeah. So did I.'

'I'd like to do it properly. You know. With you.'

'Damn well better not be with anyone else,' Trowa muttered. Did Quatre really, really mean what he thought? Did he even know what he was saying?

Quatre swivelled around to look at him. 'Will you come to bed with me? Please?'

It was hard to breathe, suddenly, with those blue eyes, delphinium-blue, fixed on his face, and the memory of how that slender body had felt against him.

'Tro? I thought you wanted to.'

'I do! I wasn't sure if you did. Are you sure?'

'Yes.'

'OK.' Trowa banked the fire, and rinsed out their cups, while Quatre locked up and checked Heero's surveillance monitors. Then he went upstairs and got into bed and listened to Quatre – his Quatre - splashing about in the bathroom. They'd shared rooms and beds before but not in this house. There were four bedrooms and Quatre had told him he'd prefer to be discreet with the others there. Trowa had nodded and hoped it was just shyness and lain awake every night listening for the sounds of doors opening at the other end of the corridor.

The room was surprisingly tidy, until he thought about it. Of course. Quatre, the strategist, had planned the whole thing. There were more candles on the chest of drawers, and on the bedside table, next to that shell Duo had given Quatre, that he carted around everywhere. Trowa lit them all; Quatre didn't like the lights being on, but maybe candles would be OK and it would be nice to have some light for a change, to see him.

Quatre came out the bathroom, just a little hesitantly, but his smile never wavered as he slid into bed. An act, in its way, that probably took even more courage than surrendering had, that first time. He was so brave, always.

He pulled the sheets up to his chin, and grinned, impishly. 'Hello.'

'Hello. Listen, Quatre. We don't have to do anything you don't want. If you want me to stop, just say. OK?'

'It's all right. I know it's going to hurt. I don't mind.'

'Don't say that!' Trowa felt suddenly sick. 'I wouldn't hurt you, ever. And it shouldn't hurt, if we're careful.'

'Duo said that,' Quatre said quietly. 'I don't think he believes it though.'

Trowa nodded. 'Yeah, well, he's had it rough.'

Worse than him, really. Duo had nightmares and he could be damn loud.. Trowa had messed around with other guys first, at least, and even if it had never been the searing connection of twin souls that Quatre's books talked about, it had been good, sometimes. He didn't think Duo had had that. 'Does he talk about it, ever?'

Quatre shook his head. 'He says nothing ever happened. He was furious, the one time I tried asking him. '

'It's easier sometimes to pretend. Maybe he's even convinced himself, sort of.' Trowa had known from the start, of course. That ridiculous clown's grin coupled with the watchful expression in his eyes. The way he reacted when someone touched him suddenly; the way Trowa had before Quatre learned not to.

He'd noticed Duo watching him, a time or two, and looking speculative and then sad.

Duo knowing didn't matter so much, but he'd hate for Yuy and Chang to look at him and think he should have been stronger, or that he'd probably wanted it, deep down, or he'd have fought more. That was what Trowa – the real one – had said.

Quatre delved under the bed and produced a plastic bag. 'I think we need these.' He was trying so hard to sound matter of fact, face flaming.

'Yeah.' Trowa put the bottle of lubricant on the bed between them, deciding not to ask where it had come from, since Maxwell was probably involved. 'Condoms?'

'Oh! We – I – didn't think we'd need anything like that. Do we? We've all had so many antibiotics and things during training.'

'Not for that. It's kind of….messy without. It will be for you, anyway.'

'I don't care.'

God. He hadn't a freaking clue what any of it would be like. And he trusted Trowa to do this for him, to keep him safe, to make it good for him. They hadn't even talked about positions, anything. And Trowa didn't have anywhere near as much courage; he wasn't sure if he could let Quatre take him, but of course if that was what he wanted, he'd try.

'Here.' He handed Quatre the lube. 'Read what it says. I don't know how you want to do this.'

'Oh! I want you to make love to me. I thought…isn't that what you wanted?'

'Yeah. Anything.' The sheer whoosh of relief was immediately followed by a whole new slew of worries. What if he hurt Quatre, or wasn't any good, or if Quatre hated it? 'I'll try to make it good for you.'

'Trowa, of course it will be good. We love each other,' Quatre looked up from reading the instructions, little frown lines on his forehead. 'This all seems rather, I don't know, formulaic. All those steps to follow. In books, it just happens.'

'It's different with girls. They don't need all this stuff. If we're not careful, you could get hurt. I've never done it on top; I don't even know if I'll do it right; how careful I have to be.''

He shivered suddenly. Trowa Barton – original version – had never been overly careful, and his preferred lubricant had always been his partner's blood.

There was a sudden moment of darkness seen through a haze of crimson, of memory threatening to surge out of the box in his head where he kept all that shit, and then he had Quatre wrapped fiercely around him.

'I'll never, never let anyone hurt you again!' he whispered fiercely. 'Trowa, I promise.'

'Sorry, sorry,' Trowa mumbled, turning away and burying his head in a pillow. Fuck. He tried so damn hard never to let Quatre pick up on any of those things, never to upset him like that, and now he'd made his love cry, and he half-felt like crying himself, except he never could.

'Tro, please don't. Please come back to me. It's all right. I'm here; you're safe. And I love you so much. More than anything.'

He let Quatre stroke his back, very gentle, and let the endearments and soft kisses wash over him, feeling his body start to relax, slowly, before he turned over, pulling Quatre against him.

'We don't have to do this, Tro. Never, if you don't want to. Lots of couples don't, Duo said.'

Never. Was that what he wanted, really? He had a sudden, vivid memory of how Quatre had felt downstairs, pressing hard against him; the feel of Quatre's mouth, moving on his.

Then Quatre made a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a sob and arched out of Trowa's arms, before sagging back down on to his chest..

'Quatre! Did you…?'

'Yes!' Quatre looked utterly mortified. 'I could feel you thinking about me, what you wanted to do and…' He stopped, scowling. 'There's no need to look quite so smug!'

'Yeah, there is,' Trowa corrected. He was sorry for Quatre, looking so embarrassed, but hell, he'd maybe his boyfriend come just by thinking about him, and it was impossible not to feel just a little….smug.

'Hey, it's OK.' He took Quatre in his arms, holding him, very gently. 'What was it like?'

'I don't know the words. Like you. So very close to me. I liked it.'

'Want to try it for real?'

He was still nervous, determined to do it properly, determined Quatre would enjoy himself. They fumbled their way through the preparation, and Quatre actually made it funny, insisting that they were following the sequential steps on his damn tube.

They were both laughing; giddy, the way they'd been in the kitchen, when Trowa finally pushed into him and then neither of them was. It all came down to sensation after that; primal, undeniable. To Quatre's body under his, all taut tension, and then a sudden arch, deeper, and they were both collapsed in a sticky, sweaty tangle of limbs.

Trowa couldn't stop smiling. He didn't know if he'd ever be able to stop smiling, and Quatre apparently wanted nothing more than to curl up against him, and be held and kissed.

The second time was in the shower. Trowa had half-carried him to the bathroom for them both to clean up. Quatre was still blissed out, too far gone to care that his ass had to be sore, that he was a mess.

Trowa took him to his own room, after he'd cleaned him properly, because Quat was a princess who didn't like sleeping with wet spots on the sheets. Trowa had slept on damp ground enough not to give a damn.

That part of the memory made him smile, although it wasn't that funny really, if you thought about it. It only really accented the differences between them; between how they'd grown up.

There'd always been so many damn differences, and Quatre had insisted that they weren't important, even as he ran his multi-billion dollar company, and pretended they weren't a couple, and jumped through hoops to try to make his father's ghost proud.

If you thought about it properly, it had been obvious from the start that they'd never end up staying together.