05-Jun-2000
Title: Nothing In Common (was untitled 13x5) 4/?
Author: TB
Archive: yes please GW Addiction
Category: yaoi
Pairing: 13x5, 3x4, 2+1, etc (soap opera, basically)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None for this part except some slight sap
Spoilers: None for this part
Notes: Thanks go out to everyone for the comments I
received for the last part. I'm glad you guys didn't
forget! ^_^
UNFORTUNATELY no one decided to be my
muse; so I'm muddling out a plot by my lonesome. :p
Anywho, thanks ALSO to Tyr, my Title Muse, for the
moniker you see above.
Feedback: always appreciated, thank you very much-like in advance!
Disclaimers: I don't own GW and I wouldn't dare
pretend to.
Heero returned that night, offering no explanation for his absence. Wufei shrugged it off as simply another personality kink he would never understand, and watched the Wing pilot as he scrounged around in the kitchen for a balanced meal. After a few minutes of peeking through the cracked door at Heero and deciding that he was in excellent health and didn't need any assistance, Wufei went back to the sitting room, where he was watching Quatre and Trowa practise a duet.
It was surprisingly soothing to listen to the music those two artists created. *They really belong in a studio somewhere, not in a grungy cottage with a war hanging over their heads,* he thought, settling onto the couch and watching the two bowed heads, one golden and one richly brown, quietly hammering out a bad section and setting a new time. The music was maybe Eastern in origin, Russian or Baltic coast--it had been a while since Wufei had enjoyed the opportunity to study. The challenge of indentifying the tune occupied him until the two gentle pilots began to play again, and then he merely enjoyed, thoughts wandering, unaware that a small smile was slowly transforming his rigid, harsh expression to something softer, kinder, unforced.
Heero noticed.
A bowl of cereal in hand, Heero Yuy stood and surveyed the activity in the room. He was uncomfortably reminded of the pictures he had seen in Duo's bag. This was a special, all-too-rare moment, and he thought Duo should have been here to share in it (where was that loud-mouth, anyway?). An inane impulse to find a camera and preserve something of this scene for the absent American was quickly repressed. *I'm getting stupid,* he thought angrily. *I can't allow myself to be affected by their nonsense. There is no place in a war for kindness.*
A tittering little voice, sounding suspiciously like the absent American's, taunted him, *Then why do you insist over and over to Trowa to follow his emotions? Why did you tell Quatre there was a time for such weakness? Why have you failed time and again to kill Relena, when your head keeps telling you it's necessary? Why did you feel something crying inside when Duo told you it was his destiny to die by your hand?*
He squashed that voice with every ounce of control he had.
Wufei glanced up, and nodded to Heero, before returning his attention to the pilots of Heavyarms and Sandrock. Quatre was no longer minding the sheets of music spread out before him as much as he was watching Trowa; his lace-like lashes nearly hid the look in his aqua eyes, but the entire set of his slender body betrayed him. He was swaying gently in rhythm with the pace of the music, talented fingers caressing song from the violin as if he were coaxing cries of passion from a lover. And Trowa; the down-turned agate eyes never so much as glanced in Quatre's direction, but his head was tilted toward the golden boy, and the placement of his feet on the floor was such that his bare ankle brushed against the Arabian's foot with each minute shift of balance. Wufei rather thought that the occasional flub of a note was due to that tender point of contact, not lack of practise with the flute.
He experienced a sudden, intense longing for Treize.
Moments he'd never had with his late wife, Meiran, the girl-child who never once allowed him near enough to touch except in the minutes before her death--the moments he had with Treize satisfied something inside him that was not buried nearly as deep as he'd wistfully believed. Just moments of closeness, like what he was witnessing now, moments of happiness simply because of that closeness. Once, he'd only read about such things, and he'd half convinced himself that they didn't exist.
Would it be an awful thing if he contacted Treize? Just to talk, however briefly, with the man... Even though he had just recently seen the OZ leader-in-exile, Wufei missed the warmth of that cultured voice wrapping around him like tender arms enfolding him in an embrace. Maybe, just to talk, it would be all right... he had the frequency that Treize had sworn would always be open to him and him alone. Decision made and unknowingly bringing a smile to his face, Wufei rose. The smile became a grin as he left, when he realised that Trowa and Quatre had completely forgotten the existence of all but each other. Yes, contacting Treize would be perfect.
Heero watched Wufei leave, then ate the final bite of his bran flakes. What was it about the two musicians that had somehow broken past *that* pilot's shell? Heero could have accepted Duo getting all teary-eyed and dreamy, but Wufei? He looked back at Quatre and Trowa. They were dead to the world, so absorbed in their music that nothing else even penetrated. Sourly Heero thought that if a thousand--well, maybe just a few hundred--mobile dolls landed outside their safe-house and starting firing, the two pilots would not so much as open a window to see what all the noise was.
And then... the longer he looked, the more Heero began to really *see* the two pilots. They weren't even following the music anymore, they were just playing, and even to his untrained ear it sounded sweeter and softer. Their eyes had locked, and with a flash of deja vu, Heero recognised that sort of gently charged gaze--Wufei and Duo had looked almost exactly the same last night, just before they'd--
And this time, Heero abruptly knew what it was he was seeing.
Treize's smile was warm as his eyes devoured Wufei's face. /"Dragon,"/ he murmured. /"I find I'm very glad to hear your voice... and even more so to see you."/
Wufei tried to restrain himself from doing something unforgiveably sappy and romantic, like touching the screen as though he could somehow feel the smooth skin of the other man by doing so. But it was hard not to. "I missed you," he settled for admitting.
/"I, too, Wufei."/ Grimness replaced the warmth. /"Have you heard, then?"/
"Heard what?"
A brief flicker of surprise. /"I thought that you might have watched the news tonight, dragon, and that was why you called me."/
"I've been busy with other things. I missed the news." A little bit of alarm raced through him. "Why? What's wrong?"
/"Your friend, Duo Maxwell,"/ Treize began, then paused. /"I'm not quite sure how to tell you this, without any preparation... Wufei, Duo Maxwell is--"/
Someone knocked on his door. Immediately Wufei blanked the screen and hit the "power" button, then stood and attempted to appear nonchalant as he opened the door. It was Heero.
"Yes?" he snapped, still jittery from nearly being caught in the act.
Heero's look was--puzzled, and solemn. "We need to talk," he said.
End Part 4
(:./erin/nothing4)
