The ancient lift creaked ominously as it rose, causing its sole
occupant to cast an apprehensive glance upward. It groaned to a halt
and Quatre waited a nervous moment longer to make sure that the
disagreeable machine had actually stopped. The abandoned warehouse
that
they were using temporarily might be a good safe house, but the word
'safe' wasn't very accurate.
Pushing aside the protective gate, Quatre stepped warily forward.
Exploring the rafters of this building was definitely not his idea
of a
good time. It was dusty and decorated liberally with spider webs,
the
lights from below casting eerie shadows around him. Yes, he would
much
prefer being on the ground floor, thank you very much.
It was unfortunate that his friend didn't have the same opinion.
Taking a bare half-step out of the lift, Quatre looked around and
frowned. He knew that Trowa was up here, somewhere. Why, he had no
idea. There was nothing up here but the dust and not even a good
walkway, nothing but the support beams...there. On the far wall away
from
him was an opened window.
He stared at it with some dismay. The only way to get to it was to
walk
across one of the support rafters, a foot wide beam suspended over
an
at least fifteen-meter drop. He stepped backwards into the lift,
shaking his head. No way. He didn't need to speak to Trowa -that-
badly.
Trowa.
He didn't know exactly why he had followed Trowa up here. If the
other
pilot wanted to be alone he certainly had the right. And Quatre
could
understand why the other boy might like some quiet. A moment spent
away
from the stress of the war was like a gift, to be treasured and used
wisely.
So why am I here, trying to disturb him, he wondered. He didn't
really
know. Reason would not come to him. All he knew was that for some
reason he needed to be here, as if something was calling him to go
to
the other boy. And Trowa was his friend, perhaps more than a friend.
Perhaps. And if Trowa needed him then Quatre would go.
Of course, if he'd known that prancing across rafters was involved
he
might not have been so quick to volunteer.
Looking across the narrow beam, Quatre sighed. It wasn't that far to
the window and he hadn't gotten to be a Gundam pilot by letting fear
rule him.
Taking a deep breath, Quatre stepped out onto the beam. Just keep
your
eyes forward, he told himself. Don't look down keep walking...oh,
damn.
He'd been nearly halfway across when he involuntarily glanced down.
He
wavered, his balance slipping and quickly he crouched down, clinging
to
the beam. Not a good thing, oh, definitely not good. He clung
tightly
to the rafter, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to convince his
trembling body that he was -not- going to fall and if he could just
be
calm then he could go back to the lift and wait for Trowa on the
floor.
He didn't know how long he sat there until a scraping sound startled
him. Quatre looked up to see Trowa crouched in front of him, elbows
resting on his knees, watching him impassively. He was balancing
effortlessly with no hint of unease, Quatre noticed with the
faintest
touch of envy. But then, Trowa was accustomed to walking tightropes;
certainly walking on a foot-wide beam wasn't going to be a problem
for
the ex-circus performer.
They held gazes for a brief moment before Quatre's eyes dropped
again
to the beam that he was trying very hard not to fall off of. It was
really a long way down to the floor and Quatre was no Heero Yuy, to
fall off a building and get barely a scratch.
It was Trowa who finally broke the silence, the barest hint of
curiosity in his soft voice as he asked, "How can you be a pilot if
you're afraid of heights?"
Quatre blinked, a bit startled. Here he was trying not to fall to
his
death and Trowa was asking him questions? Why was it that he wanted
to
help this guy again? "I'm not afraid of heights," Quatre replied,
somewhat testily. "But this isn't exactly the same as piloting a
Gundam."
Trowa nodded slowly. "True."
Closing his eyes again, Quatre's grip tightened on the beam as his
trembling increased. Oh, this was not a good thing. His shaking made
him even unsteadier and his unsteadiness made him shake more. He'd
almost made up his mind to start scooting backwards to the lift when
Trowa spoke again.
"Open your eyes."
Startled, he did, and Trowa was still crouched in front of him,
looking
at him. Silently, the other boy lifted a hand and offered it to him.
Quatre stared at it as if he'd never seen a hand before in his life
until Trowa finally spoke again. "Give me your hand."
He wanted to. He really wanted to but his fingers clamped on to the
beam as if they had a mind of their own and they weren't interested
in
letting go any time soon. He shook his head, "I can't."
"Quatre." There was something in Trowa's voice that Quatre hadn't
heard
before, an emotion that he'd never heard from the other boy, and
Quatre
raised his eyes to Trowa's uncertainly. "Quatre," he repeated
softly,
"I promise I won't let you fall."
The hand was still there, right in front of his eyes, waiting.
Offering. Quatre took a deep breath and forced his fingers to
release
their hold. He caught Trowa's hand almost desperately in a painfully
hard grip but Trowa didn't protest. Instead, he lifted his other
hand,
balancing easily in his half-crouched position.
"Now give me your other hand."
That was more difficult but Quatre managed it. His other hand was a
bit
more stubborn, a bit less trusting but when he finally let go of the
beam, Trowa helped him keep his balance and he caught Trowa's other
hand, holding on tightly.
Silently, Trowa stood, pulling Quatre with him and if Quatre
wobbled,
Trowa adjusted for him immediately, until they were both standing,
still holding hands.
To Quatre's surprise, Trowa took a step backwards, taking them both
to
the window. He'd assumed that Trowa was going to dump him back at
the
lift and then go back alone. A faint flutter went through his
stomach
as he realized that Trowa was going to let him stay. Perhaps this
hadn't been such a stupid idea after all.
One foot in front of the other they went, moving as one as they
carefully made their way to the window. Quatre kept his eyes on
Trowa's, afraid that if he looked down he would lose his balance
again
and fall, and this time he'd take Trowa with him. The taller boy had
made himself vulnerable by helping him and Quatre wasn't going to
pay
him back by accidentally killing him.
Still walking, slowly and carefully, Quatre followed his friend's
lead,
silently marveling that Trowa would do this for him, would allow him
into what was obviously something private for the other pilot. But
Trowa was going to let him stay and the very thought made him smile.
He squeezed Trowa's hands lightly, almost without thought. They were
warm in his grasp, callused from a life of hard work but it hardly
mattered, simply because the hands were Trowa's and they were
touching
him.
Climbing out the window, Trowa released the blond boy just long
enough
to swing easily up onto a ledge outside before he leaned down and
caught Quatre's hands again, pulling the smaller boy up to join him.
There wasn't much room and Quatre practically had to sit in Trowa's
lap. Not that he minded, but he blushed a little anyway, glad that
it
was hidden by the darkness. Trowa didn't seem to mind one way or
another, only gazed out silently into the night sky.
Turning to look himself, Quatre couldn't hold back a soft gasp. The
warehouse was far enough from the city that the glow of lights was
only
barely visible and from this position they could see out over the
entire valley that was spread out beneath them. It was shaded in
nighttime, lovely with the stars gleaming down from the moonless
sky.
"It's very beautiful up here," Quatre ventured, not expecting a
reply
and not receiving one.
He shifted a tiny bit, trying to get comfortable without disturbing
his
silent companion even as he wondered what he should say. He still
wasn't sure what had brought him up here to Trowa, only that he'd
felt
that he should be here. And now here he was with no idea what to do
next.
They were sitting so close, closer than they ever had before, with
Quatre's nearly sitting on his friend and one of the Trowa's arms
wrapped around the smaller boy's shoulders. It was...comfortable,
Quatre
decided, daring to huddle a little closer, as if for warmth. Trowa's
arm tightened around his shoulders, pulling Quatre closer still and
the
small blond sighed contentedly.
Tilting his head up, Quatre studied his friend. Trowa was staring
out
into the night impassively, his face blank of all expression. One
would
think that the boy didn't care about the view one way or another and
yet, if he didn't care then why was he here? What was it that drove
Trowa to sitting out here alone, Quatre wondered. Regrets? That he
could understand. Necessity had made them terrorists but that didn't
mean they had to like it. And it really didn't matter anyway if they
liked it or not; it was far too late to stop, even if they had
wanted
to.
And there was guilt; he would be lying if he said otherwise. The
price
of freedom was steep and paid for with the lives of the innocents as
well as the wicked. As to their own innocence, they had given it
freely, if regretfully, for the sake of the colonies. Any guilt or
remorse they felt for their part in this war was only their due.
But it didn't mean that they had to suffer alone.
As if feeling his scrutiny, Trowa glanced down at him and suddenly
their faces were so close that their noses nearly bumped. Their lips
were so near each other that Quatre could feel the other boy's
breath
and he smelled warm and, for some reason, like peppermint, and if
Trowa
leaned forward just a bit their lips would touch.
Neither of them moved. They seemed frozen by the moment, tasting
each
other's breath until it suddenly came to Quatre that this was his
reason. This was why he'd followed Trowa up here, this was what his
friend needed, what they both needed, to not be alone and he moved
that
final distance, hesitantly, meeting Trowa's lips with his own.
A sharp intake of air was the only response to the gentle touch and
Quatre didn't dare take it further. He simply let his lips rest
against
Trowa's, barely touching and when he would have regretfully drawn
away,
his heart beating painfully hard and a thousand apologies trembling
within him, Trowa finally responded. Parting his lips, he very
lightly
traced Quatre's lips with the tip of his tongue.
Sighing softly, Quatre leaned against his friend and deepened the
kiss
further, letting his tongue dance against Trowa's. The other boy
made a
pained sound and pulled away, resting his forehead against Quatre's.
He was shaking, Quatre saw with some concern, and he leaned back a
little to look at his friend. Even in the dim light, Trowa's eyes
were
wide, making him look oddly young. Reaching up, Quatre cupped the
other
boy's cheek, and he smiled.
"It's all right, Trowa," Quatre said softly. He leaned in again,
ready
to pull away at the slightest hint of unease from Trowa. And instead
found himself pulled into Trowa's lap, the other boy devouring his
mouth in a fierce kiss. Before he had even made up his mind whether
or
not to respond he was released, Trowa's face buried against his
shoulder.
"Why are you doing this?" The words were muffled against his shirt
and
Quatre closed his eyes, pressing his cheek against the top of
Trowa's
head.
"Just because," he answered simply. //Because I need to, because you
need me to, because I'm so tired of being alone, because I love
you.//
Gripping Trowa's arms and casting a nervous glance down at the
ground
that was so very far away, Quatre squirmed around until he was
straddling his friend's lap, ignoring Trowa's gasp of surprise.
Enough
was enough and he wasn't going to let the other pilot hide from him
any
longer.
"Trowa," he breathed against the other boy's ear, and he felt an
answering shudder go through his friend. "Trowa, I won't let you
fall."
Now was not the time for shyness, he knew, and taking a deep breath
he
pressed tightly against Trowa, felt the other boy's erection even
through the layers of their clothing.
"I won't let you fall," Quatre murmured, his lips brushing Trowa's.
"I
promise."
A sharp nod and Quatre couldn't hold back a gasp as Trowa's hands
cupped his hips, rocking them forward. Panting softly, he repeated
the
movement himself, his own hands fighting to burrow underneath
Trowa's
shirt. Warm skin greeted his questing fingertips and Quatre touched
the
silky skin eagerly, trusting Trowa to keep their balance.
It was almost unbearably exciting to be with Trowa this way, and
Trowa,
always so silent Trowa, was making soft, pleasured sounds against
his
lips as they rubbed against each other. Clothing was a frustrating
barrier but their awkward position didn't allow for anything more
and
Quatre vowed silently that once they were safely on the ground the
obstacle of clothing was going to be very quickly removed.
He didn't want any more obstacles between them, if he could help it.
Trowa was kissing him almost frantically now, his hands gripping
Quatre's hips painfully hard but the blond didn't care, couldn't
care
because the pressure between them felt so good and he was so close
to
something, something wonderful. He felt Trowa stiffen against him,
caught his perhaps more than a friend's soft cry in his mouth even
as
his own cry escaped him and he clutched Trowa against him.
Shuddering helpless, briefly overwhelmed by unexpected ecstasy,
Quatre
came back to himself to feel Trowa gently stroking his hair,
murmuring
senseless words of comfort.
Leaning back just a little, Quatre studied his friend in the dim
starlight. Trowa said nothing, only reached up and cupped the
blonde's
cheek in his callused palm. Quatre smiled and moved to press a
gentle
kiss against his friend's, no, definitely more than a friend's,
lips.
"I promise," he whispered, brushing his lips softly over Trowa's and
listened to his lover echo his words.
I promise.
-finis
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mailto:keelywolfe@gmail.com
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