Disclaimer: Don't own them or make any money off of them. I'm just in it for the pretty guys and the adventure.
Warning: Male/Male sex. Sappiness. Tears. Language. Angst. Rape flashback. Sweetness and light.
Knowing You, side story sequel to Faux Pas
"Well, he didn't fall to his death," Wu Fei remarked as he looked out the window at the running Heero. He turned from the window and gave the others in the room a sour glance. "It's times likes these that I wish I had stayed a loner. These relationships you are all engaging in compromise your ability to fight this war."
It was Quatre who bristled at that. "We are Human, Chang, and even Human Gundam pilots need companionship."
"Bodily easing is one thing," Wu Fei growled in disgust. "We are men and we do need that. These emotional upheavals, though, are unacceptable. They make you weak. Instead of battling Oz for the colonies, Heero is chasing after the insane pilot of Deathscythe, Trowa is on the edge of disillusionment, and I am certain you, Quatre are about to invest a considerable amount of time to calm him down. How are we to fight a war like this? How are any of you fit to go on a mission?"
"What do you suggest?" Quatre was truly angry now, the blonde Arabian's blue eyes snapping from under his fall of golden hair. Wu Fei stared, but didn't have anything to say. "I thought not," Quatre continued. "It's so easy to say, Chang, but another thing to accomplish. We have hearts. We have feelings. They are what make us fight for and want to die for this war. Don't belittle it or pretend that anyone can do without them. You know it's not true."
"Do I?" Wu Fei shot back sarcastically. "I fight and die for honor and Justice."
"And that's all?" Quatre's voice softened, feeling sorry for Wu Fei. He dealt the blow anyway. He was a Gundam pilot and, under his childish looks, he was steel. "We were all chosen for our talents, our courage, and our commitment to the cause, but we all fight for different reasons. As I recall, Justice for you began with a need to avenge your wife's death; an emotional upheaval that you discount so easily now in us. You functioned. You completed missions. You became a superb pilot. I don't see that it made you weak."
Wu Fei glared and his nostrils flared, but he couldn't raise one argument against Quatre's words. The heir to the Winner fortune had been trained from the cradle to wield words with expert diplomacy or fatal, cutthroat like precision. Wu Fei didn't have a chance against Quatre and he knew it.
"Despite what you think," Quatre continued as he began to follow Trowa out of the room. "We all need each other. We are all part of, not only a team, but a family, Wu Fei. You are part of it too, as much as you wish to fight against and deny it. Despite our problems, like all families, we still manage to live and work together. We will complete our missions. We will win this war. Don't begrudge our family a life while we do that. Don't deny us a little love. We will fight all the fiercer because of it."
Quatre heard Wu Fei snort. "Family?" as they turned towards his and Trowa's room, but Quatre didn't hear contempt in the word. He heard surprise and maybe a tinge of hopefulness. He knew Wu Fei had been lonely. He knew the man envied them their love. Quatre had purposely shown Wu Fei that he could be a part of it if he only allowed himself to accept it and them. He needed to stop being a loner.
Quatre made sure that Trowa went into their room and then he went downstairs and made up a tray of two of Trowa's favorite things, hot chocolate and gingersnaps. Dipping the ends of the gingersnaps in honey, Quatre laid them out carefully on a plate, and then carried the tray upstairs, knowing that it was going to take more than sweets and a warm drink to calm down his lover. It was a start though, a first salvo against the wall of memory that Trowa had dredged up.
Trowa was seated stiffly in a chair instead of comfortably on the bed. His arms were hugging his chest and his chin was tucked down, green eyes lost and staring down at the floor. He didn't acknowledge Quatre as the blonde Arabian placed the tray on the table near him.
"Duo said, 'no', Quatre," Trowa said suddenly, fierce and determined to hold on to that.
Quatre settled on the floor at Trowa's feet. He didn't dare touch the pilot of Heavyarms. The young man was a wound up spring. Instead, Quatre remained relaxed and open, beautiful face turned up towards his lover and blue eyes wells of understanding.
"Our first time," Quatre said softly, cherishing the memory, "You were afraid when I offered myself to you. You told me, 'Lie still. Don't move.' You were gentle, passionate, and brave. You made my first time something I will always hold dear, Trowa-Love."
"It was warm and wonderful, like your heart," Trowa replied tightly, trying not to fall under Quatre's spell.
Quatre smiled, but it was sad. "That night, together, we closed a gaping, painful wound. Up until then, you had slowly been bleeding to death. I felt the ache. I felt the anger. I felt the need in you to know that sex was something other than vile and cruel. My heart told me those things. I gave you my innocent virginity; a gift to the man I love, and you didn't abuse it."
Trowa flushed. "It felt like my first time as well," he replied, falling into that memory and away from the dark ones that had been taking him into Hell. "It was all light and heat. Soft and wonderful. You were perfect, resting in my hands like an angel as fine as spun glass. I... I was so afraid of breaking you, of hurting you like- like those mercenaries hurt me. I was so afraid that it was all going to turn foul and I- I'd end up just using you... I almost felt like running away, killing myself rather than chance seeing you as I had been, broken in mind and body, covered in their filth, wishing they would never come back, but knowing they would and that I would have to endure it again. I didn't want to see you afraid of me like I had been afraid of them, afraid of sex, hating it and dreading it from me."
Quatre found the point of entry and pushed in with his words, pulling open the old wound and making Trowa peek inside. "You didn't tell me any of that," he said gently. "You looked serious, confident, but inside you wanted to say no to me, am I right? You wanted to push me away and not take the chance that sex was just a bodily function and that it would mark me as it had marked you?"
Trowa nodded. Quatre dared and put a slim hand on Trowa's knee, giving it a little pressure so that the young man looked into his eyes at last.
Quatre chose his words carefully. It was a slim ledge of logic he had to walk. "Duo and Heero love one another, Trowa. Heero has been trying, patiently and tenderly, to gain Duo's trust. You know that. You know Duo's problems. Simply touching him invites violence. To make love to a person like that, well, I admire Heero's bravery and his commitment. To think that he would suddenly toss all of that aside and force Duo isn't logical Trowa and it's not what my heart is telling me is true."
"I heard him," Trowa said stubbornly.
Quatre replied, "You heard part of a conversation, part of a larger act of love between Heero and Duo. You didn't hear Duo give himself to Heero despite all of his fears and memories. You couldn't see Heero's caresses and physical reassurances. You couldn't experience Duo's reflexive resistance and you weren't there to know that he trusted Heero completely in the end, and acquiesced. They had an epiphany, Trowa, a moment of clarity, a moment of true love and understanding, just like we had."
Quatre put his other hand on Trowa's knee, leaning his body in close enough to touch the young man's legs with his warmth. "You heard, 'no', Trowa. If it had been anyone else, any other situation, I would have been one step behind you to stop what I would have considered a rape as well. They don't have just any situation, Trowa. Duo has all of your fears ten times greater. He will always be reluctant. He will always think or say no, his body forever afraid of being hurt again. You healed in my arms. My heart tells me that Duo never can in anyone's. Heero can only do his best, to show Duo love and gentleness and yes, sometimes to push past reluctance so that Duo can experience the same joy that we feel every time we lie in each other's arms."
"It's hard to accept," Trowa murmured and raised his hands and rubbed at his eyes, weary with spent emotions and anxiety. "If I do accept what you're saying, then I also have to accept that I told Duo a lie, a lie that has made him run away to God knows where. What if something terrible happens to him? What if I hurt his mind even more than it already is?"
"You reacted properly," Quatre assured him, feeling the rising panic and guilt in Trowa's tense body. "No one can blame you for trying to protect Duo. Heero was angry, but he's not a fool."
Trowa nodded, hopeful. He reached down, took Quatre's hand and gently caressed it. He brought it to his lips and kissed it passionately. Quatre's eyes softened and he slowly stretched out onto his back on the floor, carefully pulling Trowa from the chair and down with him.
"Come, Trowa- Love," Quatre breathed. "Let me be the light in your darkness. Let me chase it out of your soul. Let me heal this hurt."
Trowa wrapped Quatre into his embrace, kissing Quatre's perfect neck, enjoying the intoxicating smell of his fresh skin. He didn't deserve this, he thought, he had just done a terrible thing to Duo and Heero. He felt a need for punishment.
"Atone later, when they return," Quatre whispered, as if reading Trowa's mind. In a voice thick with rising passion he begged, "Be one with me, Trowa. Now. Let it be like the first time. Make time stop. Make my heart warm. Make my body sing!"
Trowa made gentle, passionate love to Quatre. He knows me, Trowa thought, body and soul. He knows how to soothe my every hurt and drive away my every fear. He deserves every ounce of love, every happiness, anything he desires. I would do anything for him, give him anything he asks.
As Quatre writhed in pleasure in Trowa's arms, Trowa began by bringing their bodies together and making sweet harmony.
***Owari***