[ one ]
Pairing: Trowa/Quatre
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: angst, BL
Word count: 202
Prompt: Personal Space
The spring of 197 held some of his fondest memories, but not the best by far - just months after the war restoration project began, his friends parting company, and picking up their lives - or starting new ones. Those first days after the war were chaos itself, and the furor created by causing Mariemaia's army to back down and surrender was unexpectedly turning into a witch-hunt; the new government needed his skills as a mediator, an executive, and a strategist.
As life would have it, the one he wanted to come to know more about, the one he longed to know, he had lost touch with having always assumed Trowa had returned to the circus, returned to Cathy, his real (or imagined) sister. But, after weeks of no contact, he took time out for a visit and was met with an almost violent non-welcome; it was the new animal handler who told him that Trowa had left, walked out after a performance and no one had heard from him since.
Once upon a time, Quatre believed a connection existed between them, and that one day Trowa would come walking back into his life, just as he had waltzed out of it.
[ two ]
Pairing: Trowa/Quatre
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: angst, BL
Word count: 165
Prompt: Double Vision
When Trowa appeared in the distance, walking across the compound, Quatre believed him to be an illusion - a waking dream, a heat phased sense of deja vu. But the details were striking, so real, Quatre was on his feet, stilling the ramblings of the minor landowner over for lunch. He leaned against the balcony rail, shading his eyes with a hand, and as the figure drew closer, so Quatre's smile widen.
He waved with high over head strokes of his arm, wanting to shout out and run to greet his friend; decorum be damned, but, some distant part of his heart quelled at what that greeting would bring. Instead, he called down to the door attendant to take up Trowa's duffel bag, and show him to a guest room at the other end of the mansion; the time for truths would come later - after all, he'd waited for nearly four years for this day to come, another week or so wouldn't hurt either of them.
[ three ]
Pairing: Trowa/Quatre
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: angst, BL
Word count: 236
Prompt: Running on Empty
Dinner was a more intimate affair, with Trowa as his only guest, seated in the small room Quatre fancied was once a Lady's parlor (though renovations had removed the plush carpeting, floral wallpaper, and frilly poof things). Though it had been mere hours, it felt as if days had passed since he'd welcomed Trowa to his home before having to rush off to an afternoon of meetings and functions; he made sure his schedule was cleared for the evening and the whole of the next day.
His questions were kept to a minimum, and dwindled to none the moment Quatre saw Trowa reaching for words, heard him speak in rusty, creaking tones. Instead of probing (albeit gently) for answers to questions long needing them, Quatre talked of their friends; told him about Duo's latest scheme and how he was now thumbing his nose at his detractors; spoke about Wufei's latest promotion and how the 'Dragon' had found his niche, seemed more at peace these days; and Quatre relayed Heero's sudden decision to leave his role on the active Peace Keepers Mission and go to school, that he was in his second year at the university studying with a double concentration of Science and Math.
Dessert was by-passed as Quatre claimed the weariness he saw in Trowa; their first night together ended with Quatre saying his 'goodnights' in the hall and watching Trowa walk away.
[ four ]
Pairing: Trowa/Quatre
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: angst, BL
Word count: 93
Prompt: Sundown
Quatre stood in the doorway for several minutes, watching. He'd spent the day waiting, hoping, and trying not to build expectations, but Trowa stayed absent. Entering the guest room was the last thing he planned to do, but the door was long closed behind him, and his fingers were gently touching Trowa's hair, brushing it from his eyes.
Pretense now gone, Quatre kicked off his shoes and slid onto the mattress, aligning his body behind Trowa, and placing his arm over Trowa's waist. Still Trowa slept on, though his breathing seemed to ease.
[ five ]
Pairing: Trowa/Quatre
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: ANGST, BL
Word count: 149
Prompt: Sentimental Journey
In the music room, Quatre ran his hand over the violin's scroll, and down the back of its neck, longing to hold it, and play out the emotions in turmoil inside. It had been two days since he'd last played, and then he had wished for Trowa to join him, to pick up the flute and blow counter harmonies. Trowa's quiet raspy words made it clear that he would never play again, and if his words came true, Quatre doubted that he would either.
"I'm dying," Trowa had said, and continued to echo in Quatre's ears; the truth was in Trowa's eyes, in his expression, and though Quatre wanted to call them a lie, he couldn't. A string broke in his grip, blood ran down his thumb, and a tear splashed on the back of his hand, but Quatre didn't notice, lost in the memory of music once shared.
[ six ]
Pairing: Trowa/Quatre
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: ANGST, BL
Word count: 225
Prompt: Paradise
Disguising the hurt, the denial, and the thread of anger, Quatre had demanded answers of Trowa - what, when, and why; the most important was the last, and the one Trowa couldn't quite answer immediately. Three years, Trowa had answered for the when, four at the most, and his time was about up; the 'what' was given in vague reference to a respiratory disease he'd picked up during the war.
It was late when Trowa was found (in the garden stretched out on the lawn), and Quatre took a moment to look him over, trying to see the signs of an illness he still didn't want to acknowledge; from the bare feet with toes digging into the earth, to his hair falling over one side of his face, from the narrow strip of skin peeking out from where his shirt had parted from his pants to the green eyes now looking back at him, Quatre found not one flaw, one mark, one hint.
"I couldn't stay away, though I tried... " Trowa whispered the harshness minimized at the low tone, "I wanted to spend my last days with you."
He could only nod in response, his throat tight and eyes stinging; Quatre lay on the grass, mimicking Trowa's pose, and turning his head from watching Trowa to watching the stars, he knew he was where he belonged.
[ seven ]
Pairing: Trowa/Quatre
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: half-beat humor, male/male sexual situation, BL
Word count: 201
Prompt: Silver and Gold
He always believed his first time would be with Trowa; he hadn't counted on it happening nearly two weeks after Trowa come to stay, but there he was, in Trowa's room,
naked,
kissing
touching,
stroking,
riding,
barely breathing
and Trowa was returning those kisses, doing some touching of his own,
stroking,
licking,
caressing
ooo~sucking
filling him,
stretching,
splitting
... pain!pain!pain!
... burning and pleasure
... more, more, more ... moremoremoremore -
there!
Quatre opened his eyes slow, every muscle in his body lax, breathing rapid - the word languid came to mind; Trowa was watching him with lips curved and smiling but... a hint of blue ringed his mouth and his exerted pants for air were shallow wheezing draws. Quatre swore and dove for the oxygen mask at the edge of the mattress, putting the rubberized plastic over Trowa's mouth and the strap over his head; the doctor had warned extraneous exercise would shorten breath. Trowa's hand touched at Quatre's face, his thumb wiped the moisture wanting to spill, and Trowa's lips, still blue, were smiling; Trowa tugged Quatre down, whispering and Quatre jerked back, his hand striking out to slap at Trowa's shoulder.
"No you will not die on me, Trowa Barton, a happy man or otherwise!"
[ eight ]
Pairing: Trowa/Quatre
Rating: PG
Warnings: SAP!, BL
Word count: 238
Prompt: Blue Skies
It was midnight or later when Quatre woke slowly, feeling the gentlest of touches on his cheek, and his eyes opened to Trowa propped up on his elbow at Quatre's side. With a smile and a finger pressed to Quatre's lips, Trowa encouraged him to up and out of bed, taking his hand and leading him down hallways and stairs; Trowa only smiled at Quatre's questions, and Quatre began to ask them in great, elaborated, and graphically perverted detail, making Trowa laugh and his eyes dance.
Though he knew the room Trowa lead him to, the ballroom had been transformed and was no longer the staid, over-elegant, extravagant room with marbled floors, gilded molding, high ceilings and reeked of money and elitism; hundreds of lit candles dotted the floor, their lights reflected in the rows of windows, with the darkness beyond their panes held at bay and from the stereo system, something low and soft was playing. Turning from the room to stare up at Trowa, Quatre asked without speaking, his mouth unable to form words, but instead of responding - again - Trowa lead him out to the illuminated circle, and pulled him into an embrace, his hands holding onto Quatre in firm gentleness, and his feet began to move in slow steady rhythm.
Resting his head against Trowa's shoulder, Quatre gave up questioning then, and let what was happening, happen - there was more than one way to share music.
this piece was unabashedly inspired by eric clapton's wonderful tonight... god, i'm such a sap!
[ nine ]
Pairing: Trowa/Quatre
Rating: PG
Warnings: semi-angst, BL
Word count: 239
Prompt: Waxed Paper
Looking around the room, he couldn't quite remember the last time all five of them had gotten together - over four years, without a doubt (since Trowa was gone for at least that long); he only knew it had been too long, and though he warned the others on Trowa's condition, there were still questions, some veiled behind polite inquiries, while others were as blunt as their inquirer. Trowa answered a few, was enigmatically silent on others, and always the perplexing contradiction that he was - guarded, yet open.
The 'guys' (as Duo was wont to call them all) were there for the weekend, though Wufei was the last to arrive and the first scheduled to leave - work, he claimed; Relena, Heero mouthed with a lifted brow to Quatre behind Wufei's back. It was after Wufei had left, the night before both Heero and Duo were expected to fly out by dawn in the morning, that Quatre overheard a curious comment and saw an even more baffling response; Heero was remarking on the lack of details forthcoming from Trowa, and Duo started in on a similar case he'd heard about from an ex-Sweeper - Trowa's hand clamped down on Duo's arm, with a curt admonishment to not talk about what he didn't know.
Though Quatre pretended he hadn't noticed the shift of eyes between the two to him, he filed the exchange away, and suggested a game of cards and an early night.
[ ten ]
Pairing: Trowa/Quatre
Rating: PG
Warnings: angst, BL
Word count: 198
Prompt: Broken wing
A good solid week had passed before Quatre approached the aborted subject during the visit, but, just as he thought, Trowa smiled away the delicate probes and ignored anything more direct, refusing to answer. His lower lip tucked between his teeth, Quatre queued up Duo's exchange on L2, and punched the send before his ethics out swayed his concerns; Duo answered on the second ring, and didn't seem surprised to see that he was calling.
Through Duo's distraction techniques (ones that usually worked at any other time), Quatre insisted, overriding Duo's protests and requests to 'talk to Trowa' instead, and in the end, Quatre knew he'd worn Duo down; the worry and lack of sleep clearly etched on his face might have helped.
"A spacer's disease," Duo had said, "One that comes from prolonged exposure outside protective gear... " and Quatre barely heard the rest - how rare it was in the past century, how there was no cure, how the lungs can no longer supply the body with oxygen and organs slowly begin to die.
He stared in shocked silence at the vidscreen, no longer acknowledging Duo's presence, didn't even notice when Duo's connection winked out; he had killed Trowa.
[ eleven ]
Pairing: Trowa/Quatre
Rating: PG
Warnings: angst, BL
Word count: 201
Prompt: Rising Tide
"Duo shouldn't have said anything," Trowa told him, nudging him forward, and sliding on the couch behind him, "I never wanted you to find out."
In the room's darkness, Quatre could barely breathe, barely see, barely feel, and Trowa's arms went about him, Trowa's legs tucked up close around his - Trowa, his anchor, even in this; his eyes closed and his mouth snapped shut on the cry that wanted to sound - it had happened so long ago, and it still haunted him, taking from him the only thing he wanted to last.
"It doesn't change anything between us," Trowa was whispering into his hair, "you did what you had to, then, just as I did what I needed to stop you - no fault, no hate."
Quatre protested, shaking his head, repeating the word 'no' over and over - he had killed Trowa, no matter that the man was still living, and loving him.
Squeezing him tight, Trowa's voice was harsh, diseased roughened, but in words that Quatre could only agree with: "I tried to hate you, once, but could not, Quatre... you will not take away the only happiness I have left in what life I have left, understand?"
[ twelve ]
Pairing: Trowa/Quatre
Rating: PG
Warnings: angst, BL
Word count: 224
Propt: Stormy Weather
Once his disease was reveled, Trowa began taking naps twice a day, sometimes more, and always under an oxygen tent; with his fingers brushing the plastic covering the bed and dread squeezing his heart, Quatre knew - Trowa was nearing end-stage, and he did what he always used to once upon a time.
On the backside of the estate, in an infrequently used wing, Quatre entered the conservatory, his mother's special place, the one room that retained her presence, and the one place Quatre would go to find solace. Sheets of music, some scored and others waiting, still laid upon her desk, her pen nearby and ready; Quatre sat and traced the notes with a finger as he used to when he was young, before he found out that it was because of him that his mother died. His mother, his father, his sister, and now Trowa - the notes were coming to life under his touch, his ears heard the music his mother had left, and he began to hum each quarter note, envisioning his mother smiling encouragingly beside him.
Crossing to the baby grand carrying the music sheets, Quatre hummed the melody, sitting where his mother must have sat and picking out the keys she played; the song was haunting, beautiful and sweet, and yet, filled with a lingering sadness - it was his song.
[ thirteen ]
Pairing: Trowa/Quatre
Rating: PG
Warnings: angst, BL
Word count: 168
Prompt: Chasing the Wind
Though Quatre's personal physician couldn't offer more than the continuation of the same sort of treatment he had been providing before Trowa confessed his true diagnosis, the prognosis was the same, the outcome confirmed. But, Quatre had a name, and with a name, hope was a faint breath filling his blood, urging him on; this would not become a song composed for him.
It was while Trowa slept, whether napping or when Quatre would rise in the night (or in the morning while Trowa continued to sleep), Quatre methodically learned all he could, all that was available, on the disease, its treatments - the standard practices as well as the more bizarre. Duo was right - the disease was so rare, not one agency was actively seeking a cure, a treatment to prolong lives affected.
His business dealings were turned over to others, or canceled outright, nothing mattered but what was before him; nothing mattered but the hope, his research, and giving Trowa the happiness he sought.
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