Disclaimer: *sigh* Do I even have to say it? The boys aren't mine. And they're never gonna be mine unless God steps in and makes it another commandment or something. And I'm making no money off of this.
Title: Just Communication
Warnings: Shounen ai. Inexcusable sap. That's about it.
Notes: I'm ambivalent about this fic. There's a fine line between sap and cheese, and I'm not sure I'm entirely successful in treading it. I should probably be dragged out into the street and shot for even *thinking* of writing this. For actually going ahead and setting this down on paper I should be sacrificed to the Dark Gods or some such nonsense. Re: the title--I'm unimaginative. So sue me.
Further Notes: Oh, look! How clever! A GW songfic based on the theme song for *gasp* Gundam Wing! Oddly, I've never seen this done before, but there's gotta be another one out there somewhere. Also, I used the CN translation of the theme song. *shrugs* It worked, so I went with it. Accuracy should be no obstacle to art. *snort*
~blah~ = lyrics
//blah// = thoughts
~Standing in the lashing rain
I want to show my passionate,
With my whole body tonight!~
He had searched everywhere in the small cabin that was their current safehouse, but the green-eyed boy was nowhere to be found. Just as he began to worry in earnest, Quatre glanced out the front window and saw him. He was standing at the end of the dock, staring out across the lake that fronted the property. //It's pouring rain out there. He shouldn't be out in that.//
Neglecting even to grab a coat, he hurried out into the rain to bring his friend back inside. //What on earth is he doing out here?// Though in truth, he couldn't blame Trowa for wanting to get away from him. He was tense, and miserable company, and he knew it. //If only I could just *tell* him. If only I knew what to do!//
The past several days the two had spent at this safehouse had been strained, there was no doubt about that. Quatre was lost, unsure of what to do about this powerful, unreasonable attraction he felt toward his best friend. He had never felt this way about anyone before, but he had always imagined that when he did it would be about a girl. That was the way it was supposed to go, right? But no-it was thoughts of his quiet, green-eyed friend that kept him distracted during the day and woke him up in the middle of the night, his body tight and sweating beneath the covers. And now, to be forced to share a small, secluded cabin with him, to have to live with him every day, he was a jumpy, uncomfortable mess. There was a new constraint between him and Trowa that had only arisen as his feelings for the beautiful, brown-haired pilot had grown stronger.
The tension was reaching a breaking point, he was sure. The more time he spent with Trowa, the more he wanted to touch him, find where these strange new feelings would lead. It was getting to the point that he couldn't even be in the same room with Trowa without having to viciously squash the urge to kiss him. As it was, he found himself standing unnecessarily close to Trowa when they spoke, arranging casual touches, accidental brushes just so he could feel some part of the Latin pilot's body near his. //No, the way I've been behaving, I don't blame Trowa for running away. But I still can't let him stand around in this rain.//
As he approached Trowa, he reached out tentatively to the other boy's arm.
"Trowa? What are you doing out here?"
~I hold onto your shoulders
to give you warmth and comfort
What are those shivering
Fingertips wandering after?~
Trowa turned to face him, and there was such desperate sadness in his eyes that Quatre actually backed up a step.
"T-Trowa! Are you alright?"
The other boy turned away, wrapping his arms around himself as if he might fly apart otherwise. He was shaking, Quatre realized, though whether it was from the cold or the terrible, painful melancholy he was caught in the grip of, the Arab wasn't sure. He reached out again, grasping Trowa's shoulders and forcing him to turn around. Trowa turned reluctantly, but Quatre didn't let go. He peered under Trowa's bangs, trying to look into his downcast eyes. He had never seen Trowa this withdrawn and unhappy before, and it made his heart ache in his chest.
"Trowa, please," he pleaded, "tell me what's wrong. Tell me what I can do. I'll do anything!"
The Spanish pilot looked up at that, and there was a faint hope in his eyes, quickly extinguished. Not quickly enough, though, because Quatre had seen it. His grip on Trowa's shoulders tightened. He really couldn't bear to see the emerald-eyed boy like this. The pain etched on his face and the dead hope in his eyes tore at Quatre's heart. Impulsively, he pulled Trowa into a warm embrace, his head resting on the other pilot's wet shoulder. This close, he could smell Trowa; even soaked with rain he smelled wild and spicy, like dry Mediterranean air. He spoke into the side of Trowa's neck.
"Please, Trowa. Whatever it is, just tell me."
Trowa's arms came around him tentatively. He felt long, trembling fingers comb through his damp hair. When he pulled back to look at Trowa the shaking hands stayed, tracing along his face, down his jaw and to his mouth. Trowa brushed an unsteady thumb over his lower lip and it was all Quatre could do not to draw the digit into his mouth, just to see what it tasted like. //Oh, Trowa. Do you know what you do to me?// His breathing became very shallow and his voice was a choked whisper.
The other boy looked up, forest green meeting sea green, and asked, "Anything?"
Quatre blinked in confusion, and Trowa clarified. "Will you really do anything?"
//What could he possibly want? What could have made him like this? And what can *I* do about it?// Nevertheless, he had promised, and he meant it. He nodded solemnly, eyes wide and serious in his face. "Anything you want. Anything you need. I'll do everything in my power to see you have it."
Trowa closed his eyes and stood very still, like he did when playing human target for his sister, and finally breathed his request, the 'anything' Quatre had promised him.
~I want to protect the honest
look in your eye
Believing in the love that'll
Change sorrow to strength~
Trowa opened his bottomless eyes and watched Quatre fearfully. He was so achingly lovely in that instant, with the terrible hope rekindled in his eyes, sitting side by side with a love so deep it might drown him, that Quatre couldn't answer, couldn't even breath for a long moment.
When at last he could move, Quatre threw his arms around the tall boy, his mouth coming down on Trowa's in a feverish, clumsy kiss.
The other boy staggered slightly and made a faint noise of surprise before he wrapped his arms around Quatre's slender body and returned the kiss in full measure. They clung to each other like they might never let go. Quatre's thoughts spun through his head in a dizzy tumble. //Oh, Trowa. I know you've been hurt, I can see it in your eyes, but I promise-no one will ever harm you again. I'll make sure of it. I'll keep you safe. Oh, Trowa //
"I love you."
He spoke the words into Trowa's mouth, then pulled back so he could say them again, tell the whole world.
"I love you!"
Quatre could barely contain his joy. Trowa wanted him! It was still raining, and still cold, but he couldn't feel it, basking in the warmth of his feelings and Trowa's body pressed close to his.
Trowa's expression was heartbreakingly vulnerable as he took Quatre's face between his hands.
"Quatre. Te amo. I I love you."
He still hesitated over the words, apparently finding them easier to say in Spanish than in English so Quatre could understand them. It was almost as if he was afraid saying them might damn him. //But to what?// Quatre wondered. //Trowa, as long as I live you will never need to fear your own feelings. And you will never need to question mine.//
He put his hands over Trowa's, then leaned up to kiss the tall boy. His trembling had ceased, Quatre noted, only to be replaced by a bone-deep shudder when the small blonde hesitantly flicked his tongue over Trowa's lower lip.
When this kiss ended, it was as if the dam had broken. Trowa spoke, the words stumbling over one another in their rush to get out.
"Quatre. I've loved you from the first moment I saw you. You were so beautiful. Are so beautiful. I never thought-never dreamed-you could feel the same about someone like me. You're so perfect, so kind. Even this war hasn't tarnished you. And what am I? An ex-mercenary. A killer for hire, walking around with someone else's stolen name. I'm nothing."
He seemed to lose steam after this, and just stood, holding both Quatre's hands in his.
Quatre listened to this speech in stunned silence. Was that really how Trowa thought of himself?
"Trowa. Oh, Trowa. I had no idea. You're *not* nothing. You're so much more-so much more wonderful than anyone I've ever known. I love you, and if you'll let me, I'll spend my whole life showing you everything you are to me."
Trowa looked shocked. "Your whole life? Quatre, don't rush. Don't make promises you can't keep," he said in a pained voice.
Quatre was almost as surprised as Trowa at his declaration, but realized he meant every word.
"I don't want to push you faster than you're willing to go, Trowa. But unless you want me to go, I'm not leaving." He shivered in a sudden gust of cold wind. "In the meantime, though are you ready to come back inside?" Quatre looked at his tall beloved coyly through his eyelashes. "Because I'm feeling a little chilled. I think I need to warm up."
Trowa smiled at last and slipped an arm around his waist. "I'm ready." He smiled a little wider. "Let's go warm up."
~I want to show my passionate,
with my entire body tonight!~