07-Dec-2000
Title: Catch Me If You Can (part 2) (ooooh)
Author: TB
Archive: yes pleases unless you find something wrong with it (distinctly possible)
Category: yaoi, pov, lime
Pairings: 4x2, 3+2, 1+2 (Duo's a popular lad)
Warnings: language, pov mess-ups and confusion, kind of a bad fic
Notes: I got a few requests to continue this fic. This is probably not what any of those requestors had in mind; I am in a dark frame of mind right now, and so this took a darker turn. Sorry! (hugs)
Disclaimer: GW in no way shape or form will ever belong to me, and thus I will never attempt to claim it as mine or to make money off of this piece.
Feedback: if you really want to, then hit me
(Quatre)
"Listen, listen," Howard protested, throwing up a grease-stained hand straight in Duo's face. "I can only please one person a day, Maxie-boy. And today is just not your day, okay? Back off!"
Duo scowled. "Come on, man. I've been coolin' my heels here for three days! What's the holdup? I don't-"
"Tomorrow ain't looking too good either," Howard added, in a tone just barely more polite than a snarl.
"I need that part, and you said you had it!"
"And I do! It's just taking a little longer to install it. Now shut up and back off, or you do it yourself and all the repairs you might need in the future, too!"
Quatre, listening to the argument from the shade of nearby doorway, winced. It was partly-okay, mostly-his fault that the two normally easy-going friends were butting heads; it was he, after all, who had asked Howard to delay the routine procedure for a week. He hadn't realised that Duo would take the news so badly.
By the time the braided boy stomped back toward his fellow pilot, Quatre was resolved. If only for the sake of everyone's tempers, he was going to make his move that very night. True, Duo had been completely oblivious to all the hints Quatre had dropped so far, even when the blonde pilot had gone so far as to "walk in" on Duo in the shower... well, everyone had an allowance for sheer stupidity. And Duo wasn't looking for the right things, anyway-he hardly expected Quatre to be coming on to him.
He grabbed Duo's wrist as the boy passed-and let his fingers slide easily with Duo's movement until he was holding the other boy's palm with his-and smiled sympathetically. Duo, still inclined to be sulky, resisted a little, and so Quatre put a few extra watts of cheerfulness behind the smile. He was rewarded by a grudging little quirk of the full pouting lips, then the more familiar grin.
"I guess I was being rude," Duo half-excused himself.
"Howard will forgive you," Quatre replied confidently. "He always does."
"Ha. Yeah."
He squeezed the hand in his a little, then let their fingers slither sensually together as he slowly let Duo go. "You know very well that no one can deny you anything, Duo Maxwell-not if you really want it."
But Duo completely missed the loaded line, his attention already elsewhere. He was already moving away, calling after one of the engineers heading by with an icebox bound to contain beer. Quatre ground his teeth together, frustrated again, and trailed after his prey with a growing sense of futility.
I don't know what's wrong with him! Maybe I over-estimated his subtlety. Maybe I need to hit him over the head with it-crawl into bed him, maybe, or just shove him into the wall and kiss him with everything I've got-grind my hips to his, feel the friction of our bodies add to the heat springing up between us-
Ahem. I can't believe how easily mere thoughts make me blush... but those aren't mere thoughts, I suppose. Those are fantasies, the same fantasies I've entertained practically since meeting Duo.
I know what I have to do. I have to let him know how I feel, how much I want him-and I have to get him to acknowledge that he wants me, too. I saw how he looked at me when I came in on him in the shower. He acted so nonchalant, but I could have sworn-no, I'm positive-positive I saw his eyes linger on my towel, left hanging deliberately low on my hips, tied a little too loosely. I'm positive he liked what he saw.
Yes, I know what I have to do. Problem is...
How the hell do I do it? Fantasies are one thing-but I don't want to come on too strong, scare him off-and I can't, I just *can't*, leave here without getting through to him! I don't have long to figure out. He's out drinking right now, but it's almost midnight and the men start heading off to bed soon. He'll be all alone by one, and that's my chance. I have to try- something. Anything. But I have to do it.
(Duo)
"Five bucks says he does."
"Five bucks says he won't."
"Ten-and he will."
"Fifteen-that you're completely wrong. I bet he's even straight. Howard, you are *so* off-base here."
"I've been looking to buy that new Sonic Back Massage down at the local gadget shop," Howard said. "That fifteen credits of yours ought to cover that nicely! I might even write you a thank-you note."
"Whatever, man." Duo leaned back on the deck, staring up at the stars. "That is so fucked."
"Watch your tongue, boy." Howard, relaxing against one of the warm metal pylons, waved a half-empty beer bottle at the young pilot. "You've developed quite an attitude since last we met."
"I don't have an-" Duo cut himself off. A short, sheepish silence followed; then Howard saw the flash of moonlight off white teeth as Duo grinned. "All right, I get it. I'm sorry, Howard. I'm just-a little on edge, lately."
The older man shrugged. "Understandable." He paused. "You wanna talk it over with your old buddy?"
"You don't want a list of my stupid troubles."
"Never thought of you as 'stupid'," he retorted mildly.
"Ah-ah-ah, Howie. Never argue with an idiot. We drag you down to our level, then beat you with experience!" The goofy grin that accompanied the quip was hard to resist.
They both chuckled, but the engineer sobered quickly. "Listen, kid. I thought we agreed you weren't going to play the nitwit around me anymore. Don't you trust me with the truth? Haven't I always kept up my end?"
Duo sat up, dismay evident on his face in the lines of strain that appeared around his dark eyes. "I-"
"I'm not asking for apologies," Howard interrupted. "Just wanna know if I'm still standing where I thought I stood with you."
"I'm just-just-" Duo grabbed the end of his braid, tugging viciously at the tuft. Suddenly he threw it down, and slammed a fist into the metal plating of the dock. "I'm just confused!" he burst out. "And-tired. They all think I'm too brainless to see what's going on, but I'm not, and I'm sick of being treated like a mindless little sex-prize in their grand old competition. Maybe I ought to hang out with Wufei-at least we *know* he hates me!"
"What are you confused about?" Howard asked calmly. He knew Duo well-probably better than the dysfunctional little family the kid was building out of those young pilot friends of his-and he wasn't any more blind to what was going on than Duo was. He'd expected this outburst, and would have worried if it hadn't come. If Duo had enjoyed seeing his friends fight over him, Howard would have given up on Duo Maxwell and never thought twice about it.
"They're not after me for *me*," Duo answered after a long time. He sighed, and the tension that had subtly turned his lean frame into a taut wire leaked away. "I guess I just don't understand what they all think I can do for them."
Howard was quiet, thinking that over as he slowly finished off the last of the beer in his bottle. At last he shrugged. "I guess you have to ask them that."
I'm tired and a little fuzzy by the time I wobble back to my little cabin in the carrier. Me and Howard's little talk did a lot of good-I think. I think that once I have more time to think about it, what I really think will be a lot clearer than what I think I'm thinking right now.
I think maybe I had a little too much of the hard stuff.
Hey... um... *I* didn't just turn the light off, did I? Hey now-I sure as hell didn't just kiss the back of my own neck! What the heck?
Quatre-Oh Lord, it's gotta be Quatre. I have the strangest thought, something about owing Howard those fifteen bucks after all, and then I'm busy trying to remember how to breathe when someone is sucking on your tongue.
Very, very slowly, he pushes me back onto my cot, all the way down until my head meets the pillow, and then he's taking the rolled up shirt out of my clenched fist and dropping it to the side, kneeling on the mattress next to me with one knee between my legs. And me, well, I must an idiot after all-I just lie there, staring up in the bloody dark and trying to see him, doing absolutely nothing to stop something I know very well shouldn't have gotten this far.
It's only when I feel the tremor run through the hand gently sifting through the hair around my face that I find the power to stop this. I sit up, and push Quatre away as kindly as I can-though I want to throw him off him me. But I can't do that. I don't really want to hurt him, even if he is trying to seduce me when he knows I can get myself in enough trouble with Trowa without his help. For a minute-five minutes, maybe-we sit on the bed, me half undressed, him slowly withdrawing in humiliation from my rejection.
I'm sorry, man. But you couldn't really have expected me to just fall into your embrace, could you? I'm not that drunk-and I love you too much.
(Quatre)
He clears his throat slightly. "Q," he says, softly, strained. "Quatre, if we fucked, it would ruin everything."
If we fucked... if we fucked.
I draw back, hurt more by that thoughtless word than by anything else he's done, from letting me think he liked my kisses, to shoving me off him. Does he think all I want to do is sleep with him? If I wanted a dick, I had one handy. This wasn't about anything physical-well, not really!
I try so hard to keep the pain out of my voice. "I'm doing this for you, too, Duo. I know you're unhappy. Allah, I'd have to be blind not to see it. Trowa, Heero-the way they treat you-"
"I'd say you don't have the slightest right to talk about how you *think* they treat me," he snaps back. He puts space between us, scooting until his back is against the headboard. In the unrelieved pitch black of the room, I can't see his face--oh, how I want to see his face-all I can hear in his voice is rage, and that can't be right, it can't be... "I'd say, in fact, that what you just tried to do is acting exactly like them!"
"Don't say that!" I reach out blindly and grab, oh, I think it's his knee, and claw my way up to his shoulders, holding him tightly, not letting him push me away. "Duo, I know what happened with you and Trowa, and I know you don't fool yourself into thinking that Heero wouldn't do the same thing, if the circumstances were... but I never would. Do you understand that? Duo, I love you! I love you and I could never, ever hurt you, and I'd make you so happy. I'll make the war go away for you, as much as I can, protect you from it because I know how much it hurts you, inside, where you haven't let anyone else in but me." He is shaking his head, resisting, but when I slide my arms around him and hold him tightly, press my cheek against the curve of his neck, he doesn't struggle... he holds me back. Oh, he's so warm, smells just like I imagined. "Do you remember, Duo? When you let me in? You told me about Solo, about the Church... you wanted me to know, because you felt the same things I did. It's love, Duo."
(Duo)
All I can feel is sadness.
Everything he says is true... from his perspective. Of course it would be. Quatre's the most honest person I know. The definition of integrity. But that doesn't mean he can't be wrong, even if he is right.
I guess that's why I don't force him away when he comes closer-when the hands that were clutching my tee shirt start caressing my back and sides. I feel his mouth on my throat, sucking lightly-I didn't know he even knew how to do these things, but they feel good, they feel very good, to an over-sexed teenager whose hormones aren't exactly denied much by an enthusiastic lover who waits for me back home-wherever that is...
I'm letting it go too far, God damn it. I can all but taste the line in the sand, and I'm pretty sure it's about a mile behind where we are now. I start shifting, fully intending to take hold of Quatre and peel him off my body-until one of those little pink questing hands falls to my crotch and just sits there, as if afraid to go any farther.
I'm afraid to move, too, suddenly-for a lot of reasons. If I move, he'll start doing something-something that will be wrong. Completely and horribly wrong. If I move, he'll-stop doing that something wrong, and it feels so-good-
(Quatre)
The warmth against my palm isn't soft at all-it's reassuringly solid, and when I squeeze with less trepidation than I actually feel, the barely-smothered moan that escapes Duo washes away the last of my doubts.
He loves me. Otherwise, he would have stopped me, wouldn't he? I knew it. I knew this was the right night.
I don't find it at all strange that I seem to have the lead in this blind encounter. I've always seen the wistful expression in my Duo's eyes, the need to give up the act he carries all day, all his life. He wants someone to hold him, to cherish him, and I want to do that, so so badly, want to take all the burdens from his soul and give him everything of me, instead. His kisses are everything I imagined they would be, soft, tender, wet. The panting breaths I feel against my cheek whenever we break apart make me shiver; I am as close as our awkward positions will allow, all but sitting in his lap, using one knee to keep his thighs spread so I can learn the feel of his body. Shudders run up and down his body with every shy movement of my inexperienced fingers, which only makes me bolder. It feels so hot between us, too much escalating body heat-sweat beads at my temples and slides down my cheek, and I can taste the saltiness of it on him, too, kissing him and cursing as I try to get past the barrier of his slacks.
He's biting his lip when I try to kiss him again. He takes my hands, moving them aside with extreme reluctance. "Like this." I can hear a zipper, then the whisper of cloth on cloth, and I don't wait for him to finish undressing before I touch him again, and it's even better this way, not scary at all, just so exciting. He's pulling at my night-clothes-a shirt, boxers-I can barely stand letting him go long enough to get rid of them, but when we're lying side by side, skin on skin, I can barely believe how good it is. I'll smell like him, in the morning...
(Duo)
It went too fast.
I finish explaining myself to Trowa. I kept my eyes on my hands the entire time. I wanted to meet his eyes, or at least the visible one, so that he could see how very sorry I am, how guilty I-but he knows, anyway. Maybe the fact that I couldn't look him in the face since I got back gave me away before I ever had a chance to say, "We need to talk."
I finish; my voice trails off into nothing. He's quiet too. It's not his normal quiet. It's-silence. Shutting me out, putting up walls that haven't been there since he acknowledged to himself that he loved me.
And I abused his love. I knew the day would come, but I always thought it would be a slow thing, a gentle parting. I wanted to give him time. Not a shock, not like this-I betrayed you. I didn't want to ever betray him, even if the day came when I had to leave him.
After a long, long time, I feel fingers touch my cheek. Slowly, I look up.
And feel it like a fist to my gut, that the expression on his face isn't filled with hate, or anger, or hurt-just a sort of sad sympathy.
"Duo," he says, "did you think I'd blame you?"
I have the urge to pinch myself, to see if I can wake up from this. Brilliantly, I reply, "...What?"
(Trowa)
It was the little o-Quatre. I taste bitterness in my mouth when I realise I can no longer think of him with that affectionate nickname. No little angel could have seduced my lover and sent him back to me with so much pain in his soul.
Don't blame yourself, Duo. I don't blame you. It's no wonder at all to me that you did what you did. I know how much you need warmth and touches and embraces and kisses-attention and love. How ignored you must have been as a child-like me.
And like me, how you must have wanted all that attention and love, even if you knew it was wrong.
Reasonably, I ask, "Do you love him?"
He blinks slowly, barely moving. "No."
I stroke his soft cheek with my fingers. "Do you love me?"
A slight hesitation. Suddenly a pinprick of fear stabs my heart. But his eyes never leave mine, and when he nods, the pinprick is gone so quickly I barely remember it was there. I relax. "Well, then," I say. And kiss him.
(Duo)
That's it?
I'm not buying this. How can he sit there and listen to all of that and ask me one stupid question that has nothing and everything to do with it, and then forgive me what I've done? Damnit. Damn it all. And then that question-do I love him?
Of *course* I love him. I love him so much-but... not the way, or as much, or as purely, as he wants. Maybe I'm not ready-maybe the right things just aren't here. But I love him all the same, and that's why this hurts so much.
I *want* to be punished. Doesn't he understand that? I hurt him, just like I hurt Heero by going back to Trowa, just like I hurt Quatre when I told him so very coldly that I didn't feel anything more for him than I felt for a brother.
A brother who I'd done something very wrong with, that felt very good, and who was very attractive, both physically and. spiritually, maybe.
Damn it all. I'm so confused.
"Trowa," I hear myself say. "Tro. I have to go. I *need* to go."
Hurt-there it is again. Why do I always hurt the people I love? "Why?"
Why indeed. "To think," I answer, feebly. "To-I don't know. Maybe just to be... alone." Alone. Yeah. That's the crux of it, right there. I can't walk through life hurting people because I'm scared of being alone. If I had a shred of self-control, I wouldn't have slept with Quatre-and I probably never would have seen the inside of Trowa's sheets, or Heero's. The only way I'm safe to other people is to be alone.
Trowa's eyes are the most beautiful shade of green I've ever seen, dark and sharp and sad. His voice is so soft I barely hear it. There's a question on the verge of being asked, there, a question it would break his heart to hear the answer to. And I think, in just an instant of looking into *my* eyes, that he understands that. I kiss him with my tainted lips, feeling the slight opening of his mouth under mine, wondering how he's the only person in the world whose anguish you can taste.
No, Trowa. I probably won't come back.
(Heero)
It feels empty, with him gone.
He was like a drug, and somehow he got in all our systems. The first time those laughing violet eyes were laughing just for you, maybe, or the first time you touched skin that looked so smooth and felt so warm-maybe that was when you were hooked. The first time you molded your body to his, melded your flesh into his flesh and let his body take you in, as deep as you could go and still thrusting up into yours, begging for more-maybe that was when you were sunk.
Maybe it was because he made you feel special. He was so alive, and he made you feel alive too, because he had something missing inside, and you wanted to fill it, fix it, with your-love.
When he came to say good-bye, I didn't blame him. He sat beside me on the couch and he told me in short, precise words that he was leaving, and I got the message-all the chances, all the "maybe someday"s, were officially gone. But he let me take him in my arms, and let me lay my cheek on his shoulders (frail, but stronger I think that I'll ever know), and for a long time, we laid on the couch, with him in my arms, and it was the first time I'd held him like that since he'd left me, and the last time I'd ever do it again.
I want to blame him, but I can't. If there's something missing in him, then it doesn't take a gundam scientist to understand that he can fill the something missing in me.
But it still feels empty, with him gone.
(Quatre)
I fold another shirt, and set it aside. A pair of slacks follows.
I don't believe that he'll stay away forever. We're all that he has, and he's too old to start over again. How funny, and how sad, that seventeen is too old. and that I took away one of his last chances.
But he'll come back. I know. I understand why he left-he has to be tender of Trowa's feelings, of Heero's. But I love him. And he loves me, or why else would he have let it go so far, so fast? If he really loves me, he won't stay away.
And I'll wait for him, for as long as it takes.
The End
(:./erin/catch2)
