"Bottom Line"

Written By: Mookie

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made. Written for fun, not profit.

Pairing: Heero/Trowa/Quatre

Rating: NC17

Summary: In a relationship, there is always music to be heard - if you know how to listen.

Word count: 13,964

Notes: Written for the Ménage à trois contest 2004, and for Briar Eve, my indulgent harem master.

 

"Bottom Line"

 

Part I

Heero Yuy sipped his orange juice and looked out the window of the cafe, watching as passers-by hurried along the pavement in an attempt to get out of the rain.

He wasn't sure what they thought they were accomplishing by going faster, especially if their destination was a distance away, but far be it from him to figure out the quirks of others.

He'd had a hard enough time accepting those of his comrades, at one time.

Memories hit him at the oddest times. Memories of the sneers that Wufei had given him had come to mind while Heero had watched a movie featuring an actor with the same voice inflections that Chang had. He'd thought of Duo when he'd seen that priest at the supermarket. And flyers for the circus always brought back that time he'd been recuperating under Trowa's care.

He'd once been tempted to go see what a circus was like from an audience perspective, but he'd had no way of knowing whether or not the troupe performing was the same one that had provided them with cover during the war. So he'd thought so until several months ago.

As for Quatre...well, Heero couldn't help thinking of Sandrock's pilot whenever a dog approached him, its tongue hanging out and its tail wagging eagerly. Nor when he saw lawn flamingos outside anyone's home. Quatre had once told him about birds making themselves at home on his Gundam, and Heero thought there might have been a flurry of pink feathers and blood if the damn things had gone anywhere near Wing.

At least there would have if there had been any signs that the birds had defecated on its gundanium armor.

It was days like this when he wondered where he was going in life, and why he hadn't followed his comrades' examples and picked something, anything, as a direction in life.

He thought again of Quatre, the only one of them with any surviving family. What might it have been like to have that to welcome one home? He set his glass down and propped his chin in his hand.

Heero wondered what his future might have been like, had he grown up with a loving family rather than with Odin and then J, not counting the times in between and prior to those two mentors.

He resisted the urge to sigh. He hadn't made it this far in life regretting circumstances that were beyond his control. There were quite enough things he'd done that he only wished he could undo as it was.

Then there were a few things that he'd done that he didn't regret at all.

The faint chime of the door opening caught his attention, and he turned from the window in time to see a familiar figure walk in, and feeling an old, forgotten ache well up inside him as Quatre's head suddenly turned in his direction and their eyes met.

It had been during the time when they were in between their captivity on the moon base and hijacking the shuttle. Quatre had been Heero's enemy, and his comrade in arms, and then his friend.

His friend had become his lover, just for a single night.

Heero could still remember every gasp of breath as if it had just happened - the way Quatre's back had arched gracefully as Heero had stroked him. He could still taste Quatre's flesh, both salty and soapy after a hasty sponge bath.

It had meant nothing and everything all at once, and then they hadn't had the chance nor the inclination to discuss it, and what it had meant.

Quatre looked good. It appeared to Heero that life on earth had been apparently agreed with him.

He was delighted, undeniably so, when he turned his head and saw Heero sitting there near the window. His smile grew wider when Heero accepted his invitation to have supper together.

It was oddly familiar, as if they'd seen each other days ago rather than years. Over dinner, Quatre kept his questions carefully neutral, and the more they chatted about trivialities and shared a few random anecdotes, the more Heero realized he wanted to know more about the past few years.

But first he supposed he should start with what was foremost in his mind; if he could understand Quatre's reasoning, maybe he would better understand his own.

His mind made up, he set his fork down. "Quatre," he said. "About that night." He cleared his throat. "Why did you ?"

Quatre very carefully set his glass on the table and returned Heero's direct gaze.

"You are the heart of outer space," he replied. "I think I needed to capture some of that for myself."

He got up and brought his plate to the sink, filling the basin with water and soap. As the running water created a faintly scented lather, he stared out the window over the sink. Everything he saw outside the paned glass could have been nothing but a distant memory if he'd had his way.

Guilt was his constant companion.

Heero moved behind him quietly and he placed his chin on Quatre's shoulder. One hand leaned on the edge of the counter. "Once," he murmured, "I did not believe I had a heart."

Quatre smiled down at the plate and silverware and shook his head. "You've always had one, Heero." He turned off the faucet and placed his hand over Heero's. "Once," he said, "I did not believe at all. Not in the ability of mankind to overcome its problems without a thorough cleansing. Zechs and I had that in common."

He leaned back against Heero's chest. "I had a skewed perception of reality, but I didn't want to kill you Heero. Not you, not Trowa. Just the colonies."

He shivered, remembering the zealous belief he'd held that what he was doing was not only the right thing, but the only solution available. It was hard to reconcile with his beliefs, and he doubted he'd ever be able to shake the weight from his shoulders. Atlas' burden had been for a far lesser crime.

"I wanted to kill you, Quatre," Heero said. "I also wanted to kill Duo, and Treize Khushrenada, and Zechs, and most of all I wanted to kill Relena. I had the chance so many times, and yet I couldn't do it."

Quatre finally turned around. He looked into Heero's eyes and brushed a lock of hair off his face.

"You remind me of Trowa at times," he said, "especially before I got to know you. You are both very dedicated to those you care for." He leaned forward. "And you both hide your eyes behind your hair, as if you might let others see who you really are otherwise."

His lips were barely an inch from Heero's.

"Never did I ever think your actions mirrored Duo's, or that Trowa's motivations aligned with Wufei's. When you both showed up in those mobile suits, ready to use whatever means necessary to stop me, I think that's when I recognized that you were both very different.

"I probably should have much earlier, not at the moment when it was the last thing on my conscious mind. You both had different agendas that day. I wanted to hate you afterwards for not going after Trowa. I begged you to, Heero. I wanted to despise you for not showing him any compassion or loyalty, especially after he'd taken that shot for you. I just could not understand why you wouldn't want to do all you could to save him if possible. Sometimes I think I still don't.

"You and Trowa understood each other better than I could ever hope to. I said that I wanted to touch that heart of outer space, and it's true. I did. I can't help but think, however, that maybe I just wanted to feel like I hadn't lost Trowa."

He licked his lips.

"I knew that night how wrong that was, to use you that way, and I don't mean to imply that I had any illusions that I was sleeping with Trowa. I knew who you were when we..." he hesitated over the right words to use. "...were intimate. And...I know who you are right now."

Quatre's exhaled breath was warm against Heero's face, and the dark-haired man lifted one hand and slid his fingers into the hair at the nape of Quatre's neck.

"Maybe you could tell me who that is," he said quietly.

"Heero," Quatre breathed. He closed his eyes and brought their mouths together, running his tongue along the back of Heero's teeth.

Heero's mouth tasted differently than he'd remembered. Back then he could remember the sharp tang of blood and danger, but this time as he swept his tongue all around Heero's mouth, reacquainting himself with the warm cavern, it tasted of nothing but the faint spice from the curried chicken that they'd eaten.

Quatre's hands slipped under Heero's shirt, drawing the other man's body closer. Heero responded by sucking on Quatre's tongue and grinding his hips against the blond's pelvis, making no secret of the fact that he was becoming aroused. Quatre pushed them away from the sink and slipped one hand down the back of Heero's jeans, fumbling with the button on his fly with the other.

Heero broke the kiss and they stared at each other, both panting slightly. Quatre's fingers were still hooked over the front of Heero's waistband, the other hand firmly wedged between the back of Heero's pants and his ass.

"Bedroom?" Quatre inquired with a nod of his head in that direction. Heero blew a lock of hair out of his eyes and nodded.

Quatre slid his hand out of the back of Heero's jeans but left his fingers tucked into the front, leading the way without removing his eyes from Heero's face. Once they reached the bedroom, Heero dropped his hand to Quatre's and gave it a brief squeeze.

Quatre tore open the buttons of Heero's fly and slid his hands back under Heero's shirt, baring the taut abdomen underneath. He bowed his head and pressed his lips against the exposed skin, letting Heero pull the shirt the rest of the way off. Quatre's fingers ran up Heero's side as he dropped to a crouch, trailing his tongue further south until he reached the top of Heero's briefs. He tugged at the elastic with his teeth, snapping it slightly. Heero hooked his thumbs under the waistband and slid them and his jeans down his hips. He bit his lip when Quatre's palm cupped his balls. That was followed by a lazy flick of the tongue and a gentle grazing of thumb over wrinkled skin.

Heero tilted his head back and groaned as his cock sprang to full attention. He thought his legs would buckle when Quatre took Heero into his mouth, and he placed one hand on the tousled blond hair to steady himself.

It had been far too long since anyone had touched him like this. There had been that week he'd stayed with Trowa, six months earlier, but then the circus had moved on - and Heero had not. He backed up slowly toward the bed, forcing himself to stop making comparisons.

When the backs of his knees hit the mattress, he sat down, smiling faintly at Quatre's devilish grin. Quatre hadn't removed his mouth until they'd reached the bed, even if he'd had to waddle to accomplish that feat.

Quatre stood up and unbuckled his belt, then eased his pants down past his hips until they pooled around his ankles. He kicked them aside carelessly and looked at Heero, who raised an eyebrow at seeing Quatre naked from the waist down.

Heero leaned forward and flicked a tongue over the moist tip of Quatre's arousal. Quatre's hands fisted in Heero's hair as he worked his tongue along the underside of Quatre's cock slowly.

It was larger than he'd remembered - or perhaps it was the muddy recollection of youth, where everything seemed so much smaller when compared to mobile dolls and buster rifles.

He let his mouth slide off slowly and moved back onto the mattress, propping himself up on one elbow and waiting. Quatre joined him, kissing him almost frantically while Heero's fingers found their way to Quatre's throbbing erection. Their cocks were pressed together in Heero's grip and Quatre caught the top of Heero's mouth with his lower lip, toying with it before thrusting his tongue back in.

Quatre could feel the head of Heero's cock twitch against his own and he reluctantly pulled his mouth away. He gave Heero a smoldering look between slitted eyelids and then reversed his position, breathing heavily on Heero's erection before covering it with his lips again. Heero's hands went behind Quatre's buttocks and he drew Quatre's length into his mouth.

Heero's balls tightened and the muscles in his ass clenched. He gasped a few times, trying his best to continue swirling his tongue around Quatre and failing as his climax approached. He closed his eyes and bucked his hips, filling Quatre's mouth with his semen. When he realized Quatre was swallowing, he applied as much suction as he could to Quatre's arousal, adding a few rough, jerking motions at the base. It seemed to take forever for Quatre to arch his back, but Heero persisted, despite the numbness in his mouth, determined not to leave Quatre unsatisfied. He wanted to fully reciprocate Quatre's actions, but despite his best intentions, as soon as Quatre came, he pulled away, unsuccessfully repressing a shudder at the taste at the tip of his tongue.

Quatre rolled to his back and jerked himself off, then let his hand drop to the side once he'd milked the last drop from his cock. His breathing sounded unnaturally loud in the room.

"I'm sorry, Heero."

Heero sat up immediately and started at Quatre, wondering where that apology had come from. If anyone should be feeling any regrets, it should be him, not Quatre.

He wasn't normally as oblivious to others' feelings as his demeanor often suggested to those who didn't know him, which was another reason why Quatre's apology upset him.

If Quatre regretted what had happened - why the apology? They'd both enjoyed it. Neither of them were promiscuous - Heero could only speak for himself with certainty, but he could not see Quatre engaging in risky sexual behavior as a habit.

He frowned slightly. That didn't mean Quatre had been celibate, either. Why would he be? Heero certainly hadn't been, although that was only because of that week he'd spent on X18999.

Still, although Quatre seemed more than willing to take the blame when things went awry, that didn't explain much as far as what had just happened between them.

"Why?"

Quatre placed the back of his forearm over his eyes and sighed. "For lying to you."

That response had Heero leaning over Quatre, placing one hand on the sheets near Quatre's ear. "Explain."

Quatre felt miserable. Heero didn't resort to brief and abrupt responses unless he was angry, impatient, or upset. Possibly all three - it was hard to discern how much of what he was feeling was coming from Heero and how much was his own self disgust.

"He was here again," Quatre said miserably. "In bed with us."

Heero exhaled. He knew very well who Quatre meant, and it had been just as much Heero's fault.

"I know."

He said nothing more, simply rested his head on Quatre's chest and closed his eyes as fingers tentatively stroked his hair. They were silent for a moment, as Quatre assimilated the new information.

"For you, too," he finally said, his breath ruffling the hair at the top of Heero's head. He was surprised that he felt just as bitter as he was relieved. "Tell me."

Heero only needed to peer up at Quatre to confirm that this was something Quatre really wanted to know. Once convinced that it was best to come clean with where he'd been six months ago, he cleared his throat and began.

~~~

Intense blue eyes had tracked every movement, from the hecht to the side aerial, the triple twist to the salto, and ending with a graceful side planche. Heero didn't break his gaze until Trowa completed his routine, then folded his arms and leaned back in his seat as thunderous applause was given around him.

It was true, what Duo had said. Trowa's moves had been recognizable, in and out of his Gundam, but as Heero knew well from personal experience, the tried-and-true techniques were a soldier's staples for a reason. The difference was knowing when to break form and execute something unexpected.

Watching Trowa perform was a new experience for Heero. When he'd hidden out with Trowa, he'd been comatose most of the time, and shortly after he'd regained consciousness, Trowa had gone and tried to follow Heero's advice - advice that Heero spent a good time spouting to Trowa, when in fact he'd needed the reassurance himself.

Seeing Trowa embrace the role he'd originally assumed as a cover - that had been somewhat of a shock to Heero, and he didn't know why. He'd shared something with Trowa once, and he knew he considered Barton his friend. Heero hated to consider that he might have felt the tiniest bit of envy, that Trowa had had a place to go back to whereas Heero had not.

It was grossly unfair to feel that way, especially as Heero had no desire to settle down in one place right away, but knowing that didn't dampen the tiny flare of selfishness. He was happy for Trowa, truly he was.

Heero had spent a lot of time during his travels wondering at the unfamiliar feeling. He'd never needed anyone else and had only relied on a handful of others. He'd not been ready to commit himself to one job, one location, one road to his future. Heero had been afraid of losing that bit of himself he had begun to recognize. Assimilating himself so thoroughly into civilian life, just to feel he belonged, had the potential of taking the weapon of war and turning him into just another person who eked out a living in between paychecks.

He was determined to find what he had to offer, to his friends, to society, and, he admitted, to find what life had to offer him in return, and he wanted to experience it all as a civilian.

There was no reason why Heero should have been surprised when Trowa returned to the circus, but he had been. The one person whose background most closely resembled Heero's would have made a fine traveling companion, their backgrounds strikingly similar, even if Heero knew from the start that he'd not find the answers he sought if he looked to others to set an example.

None of the others had seemed desirous of the route that Heero took. Even Wufei had seized an opportunity to work with others, something that doubtful would have happened prior to the circumstances that had forced them all to work together.

Heero had left the others without so much as a by your leave.

He'd spent most of his time on earth, allowing himself the opportunity to visit places as a tourist and hand-for-hire. It had taken him a while to stop analyzing each new place to determine where the structural supports were and where explosives could be planted to bring it down most efficiently.

He'd eventually found himself back on X18999, and the memories had hit him as soon as he set foot on the very colony where Odin had given him his parting words of advice. Gone were the shields that he'd erected out of necessity, the very things that helped keep himself alive and functioning. An assassin had a short life span; Heero had known that. He knew it now, too, but the knowledge hadn't helped all that much when it came to how it felt to actually be back.

He'd thrown himself into the job he'd found as if the colony were still incomplete and in need of every hand. It was difficult; part of him wanted to dismantle rather than construct, but the work was therapeutic once he'd gotten over the initial shock at the rush of emotions that had swamped him.

He'd gotten a chance to follow Odin's mantra within a month after landing on the colony. There was little Heero could do about the excitement he'd felt when he heard the circus was going to be in the town where he was working. He'd trembled with excitement on opening night and had held his breath when the hum of conversation fell silent and the show began.

It hadn't been Trowa's troupe, and Heero had left as soon as he saw the ringmaster was unfamiliar. He'd skulked about the grounds, looking for any hint that he might have been mistaken, but nothing suggested that he'd find Trowa there, and he'd moved on.

It had become a bit of an obsession after that, Heero was able to admit that much to himself. The idea of reuniting with his friend had planted the seed of determination in him, and he'd thrown himself into tracking down one small traveling circus out of countless others. He'd certainly had the time, especially once he'd finished the contract work he'd accepted.

Ironically, his search led him right back to earth. The information he'd found wasn't very specific, but it was enough to give Heero a definite destination when he purchased his ticket back to earth.

Three days and three nights, Heero waited, before the circus arrived. He'd felt the tiniest lurch in his stomach, that which others referred to as "butterflies," when he saw the lions' cages. Heero had found a seat near the aisle and sat down, full of anticipation and a touch of nervousness. He'd suffered through the other acts until Catherine and Trowa had appeared. His breath had caught in his throat as the blades arced through the air - not because he'd doubted Catherine's skill, but because it was the first time Heero had seen Trowa since he'd set off on his journey of self-discovery.

There was something magnetic about Trowa, Heero acknowledged, something about the way he moved, certainly, but most of all about Trowa's loyalty that, once earned, was steadfast.

Perhaps that's why Heero had wanted to track him down. There had been a reason, after all, why he'd ever considered wanting to travel with Trowa - just the two of them.

Relena and Duo had both been unexpected distractions to Heero, and, in retrospect, in positive ways. He'd never have considered Trowa a distraction at the time. Trowa had understood Heero's need to hunt down the families of the slain pacifists - if anything, it should have been Heero providing the distraction for Trowa.

That wasn't to say that Trowa had agreed with Heero, but he had understood. More importantly, he'd respected Heero's quest for judgement, and that alone told Heero more about Trowa than anything else could have, especially since Trowa had been the one to bring him back from the brink of death in the first place.

It took a special kind of person to willingly hand someone a gift when the recipient clearly didn't value it very highly.

But that had been then.

It had taken Heero some time, and some of the working he'd done with the others, to realize that life - including his own - was inherently valuable.

He hadn't killed Relena, nor Duo, and in the end - although he knew he'd lay his life on the line if necessary - he had wanted to avoid it if feasible.

Trowa found Heero after the show. The latter had been leaning against stacked bales of hay in a posture of forced nonchalance. Trowa invited Heero in for a cup of coffee, and he'd seemed completely nonplussed to find Heero standing there.

They'd sipped their beverages in companionable silence, and Heero realized he felt relaxed and at peace. It had been a good idea to come here.

~~~

Trowa watched Heero from beneath the soft fringe of hair - in particular, the way Heero's fingers cupped the steaming mug.

They were graceful, Heero's hands - not in the same way that Quatre's were, but Trowa had learned that one's hands told a lot about a person - far more than any facial expression. While actors had crafted the art of adopting any number of expressions on demand, hands would always carry with them the mark of the person.

He'd found it interesting, when he and Heero had met Zechs Merquise for the first time, that Merquise had not only disguised his face, but his hands as well. More surprising was Heero's confession that he'd never shaken hands before. Heero, Trowa had decided, understood the significance of hands.

The image of Heero standing on the open hatch that day was forever imprinted on Trowa's mind. He didn't think he'd ever be able to think of Heero without picturing his thumb on that little red button.

Trowa couldn't say what Heero's expression had been that day, but he could remember the grip that Heero had on that switch. He'd not known then how very strong Heero was, but he'd still imagined the detonation device splintering into a thousand pieces - symbolically as well as literally - and then Heero's thumb had activated the switch.

Perhaps, Trowa thought, that was why he'd picked up Heero's lifeless body. He'd used Heavyarms' hand out of necessity, but there seemed to be a poetic rightness to the fact that Heero's body was enclosed in gundanium fingers.

When Trowa had brought Heero back to the circus, he'd not expected a miracle. He had given up hoping for those more years ago than he cared to count.

But then, he had also convinced himself that allies were only temporary, something forged out of immediate necessity. A soldier trusted no one, and in times of war and rebellion, that included his comrades. People were too willing to change sides, and everyone had a back pocket agenda. Ulterior motives were what drove most people to offer their assistance, and without knowing what those motives were, to accept help was to drag the Trojan horse through the gates.

Then he and Quatre had engaged in a caricature of hand to hand combat with their Gundams, and Quatre had insisted that they shouldn't be fighting. With that, he'd left his mobile suit grasping Heavyarms' hands, and had opened his hatch.

Trowa had known the game was over, and there was no point in continuing the fight when it was obvious the other pilot had no intention of letting Trowa vent his frustration the best way he knew how.

He had come out with his hands up, but his surrender had not been accepted. Trowa had followed Quatre - had gone with him into a base crawling with soldiers he knew nothing about other than they seemed rather loyal to the young man who couldn't have been any older than Trowa.

Trowa could still remember hearing the violin that day. It had drawn him to the music room. He'd stood in the doorway watching Quatre's fingers on the neck of the violin, and the way the bow danced across the strings.

Trowa had been hypnotized by those hands. They'd called to him, and he'd answered by going to the glass case and helping himself to an instrument that didn't belong to him. It was different than acquiring an enemy's weapons; this "borrowing" had nothing to do with war or fighting - not in the sense that Trowa was accustomed to.

They'd played together, and their hands had both caressed their instruments and coaxed harmonious accord from them. Trowa had fled the next day.

There was no pretending otherwise. He'd been intrigued by Quatre before he'd ever been privy to the pilot's name, and it had made him uncomfortable that he had felt far too at ease in the other warrior's presence, especially when Quatre had a troop of loyal supporters, leaving Trowa incredibly outnumbered.

It had been clear even then that Quatre possessed the traits of a commander, and the last thing that Trowa had wanted was to become just another follower of orders.

Not where Quatre Raberba Winner was concerned.

Quatre had called him from the window on his way out, and the former No-name had nothing to give him in return but his assumed name. There had been a small amount of regret in that.

Heero Yuy was clearly an assumed name - Zechs Merquise easily recognized it as well. In the soldier named Heero Yuy, however, Trowa had recognized so much of himself - at least so much of what he wished he could be - and it was obvious they'd both been groomed for war. It was obvious to Trowa that Heero was quite used to following orders, even if that little stunt with the detonation device had seemed to be Heero's taking an order and executing it in his own way.

While Heero lay unconscious after the destruction of his Gundam, Trowa had had a lot of time to study him. He'd cleaned the blood from Heero's battered form, noting how remarkably resilient Heero's body was. There were a couple of broken ribs and countless lacerations, a deep gash in Heero's arm, and blood matted in thick brown locks.

Trowa had washed Heero's hair carefully, gently massaging Heero's scalp with his fingertips. Catherine's assistance had been invaluable, wrapping clean gauze over Heero's wounds while Trowa held Heero's body in a seated position.

It had been almost too much of a relief to Trowa, after he'd finished binding Heero's arm and moved to his hands, to note that none of Heero's fingers had been broken.

Trowa could still remember using one of Catherine's knives to clean the dirt and blood from under Heero's fingernails, the feel of Heero's callused hand in his own. He'd held Heero's limp right hand in his, running the pad of his thumb over Heero's, almost expecting to see blistering or darkened skin where he'd pressed the detonation button, as if it had permanently marked Heero somehow.

Heero's actions had triggered something in Trowa, and when the unconscious pilot finally woke from his sleep and spoke to him, Trowa knew he had found someone capable of understanding him.

Catherine's tears had stopped him from following in Heero's footsteps. She'd not been particularly pleased with Heero after that, but she'd been more upset with Trowa, for it had been his decision, in the end.

He had been relieved, in a sense, that Heero didn't seem to care one way or another that Trowa hadn't followed through on his plan to self-detonate. He'd been very accepting that Trowa had let Catherine's impassioned speech sway his decision. He was gruff and seemingly apathetic, yet Trowa knew that Heero was acknowledging it had been Trowa's choice.

Having Heero's respect meant a lot to Trowa.

It had been with great relief that Trowa had crossed the last name off the list of family members Heero had diligently sought out. Heero the soldier was necessary for the war - of that, Trowa was certain. Heero the man, on the other hand...he was a mass of contradictions.

He'd felt devoid of feeling much of his life - he'd told Dorothy as much aboard the Libra - but there were times when he realized that they'd been there all along, just lying dormant.

Playing the flute to Quatre's violin had stirred something in him. Watching Heero sleep had felt much the same. Accompanying Heero on his mission for penance fanned that small spark into something he catalogued as respect.

Then there had been the confrontation with Quatre, in the new Gundam armed with the ZERO system. The very same Gundam that he later associated firmly with Heero Yuy.

Trowa had faith in Heero when they'd gone out in the Vayeate and Mercurius. He might have helped put Heero back together, but they both knew that OZ had given Trowa the power to hold Heero's life in his hands.

Quatre had been out of control. His voice had held a manic edge to it, and through it all he'd not actually wanted to kill either Heero or Trowa, but he was convinced that the colonies had to be destroyed. Trowa hadn't understood until he had the opportunity to see the visions that ZERO flashed in his own mind. At the time, he'd been surprised yet again by his reaction to the current situation.

We shouldn't be fighting each other , Quatre had told him at their first meeting. It's not right.

Nor was it right for Quatre to want to kill Heero, or Heero to feel the same way about Quatre.

When Quatre had aimed the rifle at the Mercurius, Trowa had known what he had to do.

He'd thought he was dead for sure when the beam hit the Vayeate, and even as he tried to tell Quatre how he felt, he'd felt a twinge of regret as well. He'd wanted to see them both survive. Heero...he'd worried about Heero, not quite sure how he'd retaliate against Quatre, but then, Heero had earned Trowa's respect for a reason.

Heero would do the right thing, and Quatre would be all right. It was those thoughts that had reassured him that he'd made the right decision. Catherine's words rang in his ears, and he felt a small pang of guilt for leaving her behind in sorrow, but he would not regret what he did.

It had brought Quatre back.

Fate was fickle; Trowa realized that. The crew that had found Trowa adrift in space had been bound for the same colony where Catherine was. He could still remember seeing her in the rain and latching on to her as his tether to safety.

Seeing Quatre again later had hit him hard. Catherine had been wildly protective when the images taunted Trowa - nothing clear or definite, just vague brushes with his past memory.

Quatre was part of that, and Trowa had known then that he had to go with him.

Trowa had to give Cathy credit; she'd been unhappy to see him go, and the concern etched on her face was not easy to stomach, but she knew that Trowa had a much bigger role to play than a circus performer, no matter how much she wished otherwise.

She'd been proud of him too, although perhaps she felt guilty for feeling that way.

Nonetheless, Trowa had gone with someone who was a complete stranger, even when he'd not remembered anything.

Because it had felt right to go with Quatre.

It took Trowa some time afterwards to realize that he'd only recently starting operating under the influence of feelings that had little to do with his outcome of success in battle.

~~~

Waking up in the same bed as Heero Yuy was not the same as waking up in a chair near his bedside or in an adjoining seat onboard a shuttle.

Neither of those had involved the touch of a bare leg, a slight tickle of fine hair against Trowa's calf. The most minute contact, and yet it had Trowa's entire body going rigid as it occurred to him that this was another of those "feels right" occasions.

He slid out of bed carefully and padded to the bathroom, quietly withdrawing a towel from the shelf over the toilet and hanging it on the hook behind the door.

He left the door ajar, suddenly unsure how Heero would react to his habit of leaving it open to keep the steam from condensing on the tile floor, and turned on the taps, adjusting them until the water temperature was comfortable.

Trowa hadn't planned on slipping a soap-covered hand down his stomach and to his groin for more than purposes of cleansing, but once it was there, he imagined Heero's dark lashes against his cheek and the ripple of muscle in his lean frame. Trowa's fingers curled around his length and he stroked himself slowly.

Trowa was no stranger to masturbation - it had never been a regular pastime, but he'd not been immune to the occasional nocturnal emission or to waking up with, as the mercenaries had so crudely put it, morning wood.

An insistent arousal was nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed of - and he'd taken matters into his own hands on more than one occasion, but never because he'd shared a bed with someone.

Certainly not with the likes of Heero Yuy.

Denying that some of his wet dreams had in fact featured Heero in a starring role did nothing for his current situation - it merely sharpened his desire for the friend who was still slumbering in Trowa's bed.

His mind replayed several images from the dream he'd had that night. Heero had been lying on the bed, naked and unashamed. The look he'd give Trowa had been intensely erotic and the erection jutting out proudly was already glistening at the tip. Then Heero had closed his eyes, freeing Trowa of their spell, only to reroute Trowa's attention to where Heero was stroking himself.

Trowa's left hand soaped up the right side of his neck and he slid his fingers down, along his collarbone, and then further until his fingertips grazed his nipple. As he pumped his erection firmly, he pinched and squeezed the hardened nub, then let the hand continue its downward journey. Trowa's fingers dug into his side, just below his ribcage, and he bit his lower lip, speeding up his strokes as he pictured Heero's hands at work instead of his own.

Heero had touched the inside of Heavyarms with those hands.

Trowa stepped closer to the spray and placed one hand on the wall for support. His lashes glittered with drops of water as the steam billowed around him, re-condensing on his skin like moist, tiny kisses. His eyes slipped closed, and a small moan escaped Trowa as warmth flooded his hand. His knees nearly buckled with the force of his orgasm, and he pressed his head against the tile next to his splayed fingers as his entire body shuddered.

He wondered if this would be a good time to regret extending that offer to Heero of staying with them until their performance in town drew to a close.

~~~

Heero had been awake when he'd returned to the bedroom with a towel around his waist. Trowa hadn't been able to meet his eyes, taking advantage of the curtain of hair to shield his sudden discomfort.

There was no reason for Trowa to feel awkward around Heero. None at all. Nor was there a reason to watch as Heero slid out of bed and made his own way to the bathroom.

And so went the first day.

The second night Heero had rolled over and flung out his arm. His fingertips twitched in sleep, grazing Trowa's ribcage. It had sent a shiver through Trowa's body, one that lingered even after Heero's arm retreated.

The third night was uneventful, but Trowa had lain awake listening to Heero's breathing. He had had dreams after finally falling asleep, but their exact nature escaped him.

Heero had taken to helping Trowa every morning and throughout the day. On the fourth day, Heero was sweeping and mopping out the soiled cages while Trowa tended to the animals. Trowa took a break to sit down next to the oldest of the lions, stroking his mane and rubbing him behind the ears. He had watched as Heero's shoulder muscles flexed, and his gaze traveled up to where Heero's hair, damp with sweat, curled at the nape of his neck. The lion began to purr beneath his hand, and Trowa glanced down at it, smiling and murmuring reassurances.

"He looks good, doesn't he?" he'd whispered to the king of beasts. The lion merely yawned and licked his lips. Trowa looked back up and realized Heero had frozen in place. His hands were clenching the mop so hard the tendons in his arm stood out like the relief on a topographical map.

Trowa didn't notice, however, because his eyes were on Heero's face. Neither of them said a word or moved. The lion butted his head against Trowa's hand and he resumed petting the animal. The moment gone, Heero resumed his task and Trowa had remained with the lion a bit longer before moving on to feeding the elephants.

At supper that night, Heero had reached for a piece of bread at the same time as Trowa, and their eyes locked again over the bit of baked meal joining their hands.

Heero licked his lips. "They trust you."

Trowa was afraid of reading too much into what he'd seen earlier. Heero had looked wistful, almost hurt. He was wearing the same expression now, and it reminded Trowa of some of the children in the audiences, especially those attending the circus for the first time.

It made Trowa feel rather uncomfortable. He'd jerked off fantasizing about Heero, thinking of his friend doing the same. To compare Heero to a young boy was bad enough. To imagine that Heero might be a tiny bit envious warred with the image Trowa had built up about the warrior he'd nursed back to health. The infallible, unflappable Heero Yuy.

He'd known that wasn't Heero - their trek across the globe had proven that, but still he'd always admired Heero. It wasn't right for their positions to be reversed. He tried to blow it off and make a weak joke out of it. His tongue remained stuck to the roof of his mouth, and finally he released the bread.

"They're very smart."

Trowa's message was clear, if unnecessary. He had never doubted that Heero had trusted him. Hell, Heero had trusted Zechs not to lure them into a trap, and that had been good enough for Trowa, even then. Heero was, for the most part, a decent judge of character.

They'd gone to bed earlier than usual, Heero sleeping with his back to Trowa as he had every night that week. It didn't take long for his breathing to fall into the steady rhythm of sleep.

When Heero rolled over this time, Trowa hoped he wasn't going to damage something that was more priceless than any amount of gundanium, but it had been Heero himself who'd lectured him on following his emotions. Who better to show them to?

Trowa slid his fingers into the sleep-tousled hair and leaned forward to brush his lips across Heero's.

Any fears he had that he'd misread the situation vanished when Heero opened his mouth to accept Trowa's questing tongue. Heero shifted his position on the bed, bringing his body closer to Trowa's without breaking the kiss. A groan escaped and was swallowed when their groins came into contact, and Heero became a more active participant. His tongue slid along Trowa's and his hand cupped the other man's ass, his fingertips pressing into the skin firmly.

The encounter was both quick and messy, leaving both their stomachs covered with semen. Trowa wanted to shower, but Heero had sighed in contentment and laid his head on Trowa's shoulder. Trowa had not had the heart to reject Heero after sharing such an intimate moment.

The next morning he woke up and peeled himself off Heero, heading to the shower to wash off the mixture of dried semen and sweat. He had just tipped his head back to let the water run through his hair when he realized he was no longer alone.

Heero hesitated a moment, as if unsure of his actions, then he pushed open the curtain and watched.

Trowa felt naked more from Heero's intense stare than from his own state of undress. He firmly ignored the awkwardness of the current situation, lathering his hair first, then picking up the bar of soap. He'd run it over his chest and found himself doing it much more slowly that was necessary for cleansing. He knew that he was putting on a show for Heero, and when the air changed around him, he knew before the bar of soap was taken from his hand that Heero had finally joined him in the stall.

Heero's hand, still holding the soap, slid around Trowa's waist and pressed against his back. Trowa opened his eyes and looked into the blue ones staring back at him.

Heero opened his mouth, ready to say something, but Trowa didn't give him the chance, instead leaning forward to capture Heero's lips with his own.

The bar slipped out of Heero's grasp, and his hand ran up Trowa's spine. Thick bits of soap still clung to his fingertips and the heel of his hand, and the contrast between the slickness of those small fragments and Heero's wet and roughened palm made Trowa's cock twitch.

One of Heero's hands was now behind Trowa's neck, and the other one was against the wall of the shower as he leaned further into the kiss. Trowa reached between their bodies, wishing for a moment his hand was equally lubricated, but undeterred nonetheless.

He couldn't deny that the friction was a bit stimulating as he attempted to stroke both his cock and Heero's, but it wasn't as pleasant as it had been the previous morning. As if reading his mind, Heero broke the kiss and dropped to his knees, reaching behind Trowa for the soap. Heero's hair, damp from the shower spray, brushed against Trowa's erection and clung to it while Heero's hand fumbled a bit more. Trowa knew when Heero had located it, because both Heero's hand and the soap pressed against his calf, and then he realized that lubrication was no longer needed because Heero lifted his head and engulfed all of Trowa's length in his mouth.

Trowa backed up slightly. The water was now beating down on Heero's head and streaming down his back. Trowa watched the head at his groin bob up and down a few times and groaned. He put his hand out to the wall as Heero had done earlier. It seemed ironic that never had he been in a situation that left him so off balance - not emotionally, but physically.

He bit his lip as he came, and Heero's tongue laved the underside of his cock, pressing it firmly against the roof of his mouth and milking it until Trowa placed his other hand on Heero's head. His fingers clenched the thick wet hair and he murmured Heero's name.

After that, Trowa had rather expected that the next night things would progress a bit further - and they did, but quite the way he'd anticipated.

Heero had showered before bed, washing off the spray one of the elephants had given him while he'd been shoveling up the animal waste. When he'd come out of the bathroom, he'd stood near the bed, toweling off his hair. His eyes were fixed on Trowa.

It was another reversal of circumstances. Many a night it had been Trowa staring at this very bed, at the still figure lying on it. Only this time both of them were conscious, and there was no question of either of them self-detonating on the morrow.

"It's not mine to discard so easily now," Heero said, surprising Trowa with his uncannily apt words. He turned toward the bathroom, flicking out the towel and draping it over the doorknob.

He returned to the bed and crawled in next to Trowa. One of his arms snaked around Trowa's waist.

Heero rested his head on Trowa's chest and listened to the steady heartbeat for a few moments. When he lifted his head and looked as he were about to move back to his side of the bed, Trowa lifted his arm and draped it over Heero. Heero's breathing didn't change in its rhythm, but Trowa knew he'd taken him by surprise.

Heero wasn't the only one.

When Trowa woke the next morning, Heero was packing his bag, putting away the laundry that Catherine had done, insisting that Heero had done more than enough chores already.

Heero departed at midday. Before he'd turned to leave, he'd extended his hand. Trowa had stared at it for three full seconds before grasping it firmly and pumping it up and down.

Their hands separated slowly, and then Heero thanked Trowa. The implied "for everything" covered far more than either of them wanted to acknowledge out loud.

~~~

 

Chapter 2

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