Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Pull Up For The J! ❯ I Am ( Chapter 1 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Manga-Chick 
Trowa's off looking for family; can Quatre stay out of trouble?
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Drama / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.21.2005 | Pages: 2 | Words: 6.9K | Visits: 390 | Status: Completed
Trowa's off looking for family; can Quatre stay out of trouble?
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Drama / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.21.2005 | Pages: 2 | Words: 6.9K | Visits: 390 | Status: Completed
Alternate Universe, Sci-Fi? Sporty
Standard Disclaimers Apply: Don’t own Gundam Wing, but I own every original character that emerges...Don’t own the songs listed with the chapters, either...Or any other big name thingy that comes by...
Warnings: Original Fictional Charas (who get mighty annoying ~_~), cursing, partying, general teen angst, plenty of misunderstandings, naughty sexual behavior, and helluva out of character charas!
Pairings: 3 x 4/ 4 x 3, 1 + 2 ,/ 2 + 1, 5 x M, and more!
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20 means scene change
Chapter One~
“I Am” Static-X
Aprexal International Airport was crowded with an overload of travelers. Similarly crowded as it was during Christmas, Quatre R. Winner had to work his way through the crowd just to keep his pace next to Trowa Barton, his boyfriend of over seven months.
Ahead of them, speaking into her cell phone, Catherine Bloom, AKA “Miss Nibble”, pushed her way through the crowd to get to their destination. The petite woman, barely over five foot two, had poured herself into a pair of tight cut-offs, a pink corset top that pushed up her small chest, and her wild auburn hair, darker than Trowa’s, was pushed back into an unruly ponytail. She worked the airport like some runway model, and Trowa, acting the role of the protective brother, scowled at anything and everyone that performed second glances and tried to approach her. Catherine, of course, loved the attention and flashed over a thousand bucks worth of a white smile at those that met her. She signed a few autographs, but wasn’t deterred from their flight.
Quatre scowled at her back–Catherine wasn’t going to be his most favorite person in the world. She was rude, abrupt, and upon meeting him for the first time, had smacked him across the face for giving her little bro stitches. Then she went on ranting and raving over the shit that had gone down in Laramie, and when Trowa had to separate the two, Catherine had added a little dig about the smaller the blond, the smaller the penis. It shouldn’t have bothered him, because he knew Trowa was happy with what he had, but still–coming from someone like Catherine, Miss Porn Star, was something to get irritated with.
Catherine had then proceeded to ignore him, and spoke only to Trowa, addressing him as if Quatre weren’t even there. It was very annoying, but then again, that was that. There wasn’t anything he could do to change her mind about him, and frankly, he didn’t care. Just one more female to hate him, and that was all right with him. As long as he had Trowa, he was going to be fine.
Quatre, unfortunately, wasn’t able to venture past the security checkpoint that was set up before the terminals, so he had to cut his stay with Trowa short. As they neared the designated area, Quatre could feel his imminent sadness and feelings of withdrawal already pulling him down. He reached out, and captured Trowa’s hand within his, entirely down about this situation. Trowa was going to leave him here in America while he and his sister went to Barcelona, Spain, to further explore the possibilities of long-lost relatives there. It was just a hunch, a whispered rumor along Catherine’s rumor-mill, but the siblings were determined to check it out for themselves. They had lost their parents when they were very young, and were carted off to various foster homes and countries before Catherine made it big here in America as a porn-star ‘actress’.
Quatre could understand why Trowa would want to go, but that meant they would have to be separated for nearly three months. Three months, because that was the estimated time of their journey and search, and it was summer break from school. Catherine wanted this to be a vacation as well, and she was going to drag her little brother with her. Trowa, upon much contemplation, wanted to explore the country of his birth as well, and while definitely down that he would be leaving Quatre behind, figured it would just have to do. Quatre would just have to deal with it.
With a reassuring squeeze of his hand, Trowa glanced down at his blond love with a smile, revealing all his teeth. Since he had his braces removed, the boy had been showing his teeth more often. It was quite nice, actually. He’d grown to six foot three, his body filling out at the shoulders, baby fat gone, his limbs long and lean. While he still maintained his odd hairstyle, the auburn wisps cut very short all around except for a fall of hair over his face, Trowa was still the attractive boy Quatre met upon arriving to Sophia Darken Academy last year. And with those braces gone (not that they were obvious, anyway–Quatre always had a hard time seeing them), Trowa’s broad smiling and flashing of his teeth garnered the boy more attention then Quatre liked or that Trowa himself was comfortable with.
Quatre tried to muster one of his own, but was unable to. Sighing heavily, dragging his feet, he adjusted Trowa’s travel bag against his chest and plowed his way through the people that surged against him.
“It’s only until the end of August, Quat,” Trowa said, for the thousandth time this week, wanting to cheer up those downcast blue/green eyes. He nudged him with an elbow. “Besides, we can always keep in touch with each other...”
Trowa had suggested that they buy cell phones, and had actually bought them on his own account, seeing that Quatre’s current situation prevented him from doing so. Due to the lack of funds that he had been so free with earlier in the year, because his father had officially cut him off his financial support and placed him in the care of middle-class ‘foster parents’, Quatre was unable to go out and splurge on such things. His ‘foster parents’ being his uncle Rashid, and his wife, Lana. They had made enough to keep themselves comfortable, and to provide a small splurge among their various children, but the add on of Quatre to their care list had put a strain in their financial situation. The tuition and board for him to attend Sophia Darken Academy had already been paid for by Ramid’s earlier enrollment, so that situation wasn’t a costly trouble. Even so, he barely had money to spend on various things, and Trowa, relying on his sister’s income and the fact that he sold the occasional drug, splurged on him at times.
Trowa had figured that each of them having a cell phone would be one of their best bets in keeping constant contact with each other, considering that it was easier to use than having to ring the school, or for Quatre to use the school phones to reach him overseas.
“Yeah, but...it’s not the same,” Quatre whined.
“I know...but...it’s the closest we can get.”
Quatre frowned, holding tightly onto Trowa’s hand and clutching the traveling bag. Trowa bent and awkwardly placed a kiss on the top of his head, murmuring that by the time he got back to New Park, Quatre had better gain a few more inches or he was kicking his ass. But even that small ‘encouragement’ earned nothing from the blond, as the blond was staring too heavily at the upcoming checkpoint. He hadn’t grown yet, even as Trowa seemed to add inches to his height every day. He had come to the Academy standing at five foot seven, and stopped pitifully at five foot eight. He was hoping for a few more inches, but no matter the amount of milk and stretching he did, his height didn’t seem to budge. He hoped that when Trowa came back, he might have gained a couple of inches and he would be looking Trowa in the eye. His father, Ramid, stood at six feet one, and he wasn’t sure what his mother stood at, but she had to be tall, damn it. Most of his sisters were–it would only be natural for the only male to shoot up to be taller than his father! He was counting on a last-minute growth spurt to help him along, but who knew?
Trowa took the bag from him as Catherine glanced over her shoulder at them, making sure that they were nearby and haven’t been captured by terrorists or something of the sort.
The line for the checkpoint was long, but moving along quite nicely. In a minute, Quatre would have to let go of Trowa and walk away. He really didn’t want to. Earlier, before they left the dormitory, he’d tried cramming himself into Trowa’s suitcase, but was unable to bend himself into appropriate positions to zip it up. Trowa had laughed, and they had last minute sex (showering before meeting with Catherine), but their time to separate was coming no matter what. He clutched Trowa’s hand tighter, frowning at the guards that were swiftly running their scanners over everybody and checking their bags. He looked up at Trowa, and sighed, figuring that he may as well as get over it. Trowa was coming back to him...he just had to wait.
Trowa turned to him, then enveloped him into a hug. Quatre hugged him just as tightly, not wanting to let go of the person he’d come to love entirely. He took one last inhale of the mixture of Eternity for Men and Coast soap, the feel of slim muscle and bony spine under his hands, and the feel of stubble against his temple.
“Don’t make this so hard, Quat!” Trowa laughed gently, kissing his hair as they moved along the line. “I’ll be back before you know it...it won’t be that bad!”
“Says you...traipsing all over Europe while I waste away in stupid summer school,” Quatre muttered against his neck. “You’ll be hanging out with porn stars and lost family members while I get to play with the more stupid members of school...”
“C’mon...it won’t be that bad. At least you learned your lesson, right? You can call me anytime, no matter what time or day it is, okay? I love you...” Trowa murmured against his temple, inhaling his own share of Head and Shoulders, of Aveeno lotion, of Fresh Stick deodorant. He closed his eyes, knowing that he was going to miss this while he was away. The feel of his baller against him, the feel of toned muscle and slim statue, of wispy white-blond hair. They had to move faster to accommodate the quickly shrinking line, and before they knew it, they were three people away from the guards with the scanners. He let go of Quatre, kissing him briefly, then letting go.
Quatre watched with much heaviness as Trowa walked away from him, setting his bag on the metal rollers and being scanned by the detectors. Trowa waved at him from beyond the line, and he slumped his shoulders, reluctantly making his way out of the area. Sighing very heavily, head hanging, Quatre stuffed his hand into his jacket pocket, fingering the new cell phone Trowa had bought just for him, so they could keep in contact with each other.
He pulled it out, staring at it as he maneuvered his way out from the airport and into the taxi area. It was a simple model–a BlackBerry, complete with mini-computer, vid-phone attachments, access to Internet services, games, ability to take pictures, dayplanner, music player...and, oh yes, he was able to talk to Trowa once dialing his number (which was on speed dial). It was oblong, smooth, very slim, and looked similar to a computer mouse. It felt funny in his hand, the weight uncomfortably new and, despite the neon blue color, looked completely girly. But Trowa had a similar model in purple, so he didn’t feel too bad.
He sighed again, sliding into a taxi and giving the school’s address. He leaned back in his seat and stared out the window as the cab pulled away from the curb. He was going to hate this. Hate being separated from Trowa, for these next three months. Three months of hell. He was going to hate it.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Trowa stared out the window as the plane lifted off, giving him that awful stomach in throat feeling as the huge monstrosity, carrying over a thousand passengers, gained speed through the crowded airspace over New Park City. Closing his eyes, he imagined his high school love taking the taxi back to the school, where he would no doubt wander all alone in the empty halls of the dorms, as most of the kids had left Sophia Darken for homes or other destinations for the summer. Most of their friends had left nearly two days ago, and last Trowa had counted, there were only fifty plus students left, counting him. He knew Quatre was going to be bored–but better that than getting into trouble and failing his classes. Trowa hoped that Quatre was able to pass. How sucky it would be for his boyfriend to be held back a year because he was just stupid because he continually skipped out on his homework. Quatre was smart–he just didn’t apply himself or bother with such things. Trowa didn’t want that to happen, so he hoped that Quatre would take this down time and get onto the right track.
He sighed lightly, Catherine adjusting her seatbelt next to him. They were flying first class, and already the stewardesses were passing out drinks and snacks. He didn’t feel like eating, so he declined his share. Catherine took a bourbon, and sipped delicately as she stared at a point ahead of them. A movie concerning Lindsay Lohan was playing, but Trowa wasn’t interested. Catherine wouldn’t talk unless she felt she had something to say, so he figured this was going to be a pretty long ride to Barcelona.
He reached into his traveling bag, withdrawing his sketchpad. May as well as pass the time by drawing. Catherine watched without comment as he drew out what characters had stood out at the airport, and as he drew, he began to reflect on the past year.
It ended well, considering Quatre’s continuous streak of recklessness. His knee had healed well, despite Middie Une’s vicious ‘attack’, and he was already passing much time by hitting the court. He missed out on the season, though, the team heading onto Zone, but failing to make State. Their coach, Ramos, had quietly agreed to the continued blackmail attempt that Trowa and Felicia Passage had set up anonymously with him to continue to keep Quatre playing for another year, despite the trouble he gave the team with his attitude and the fact that he couldn’t get along with the girls. Trowa had suspected that Ramos was trying to track down the people blackmailing him with such accusing evidence of child pornography and the fact that such accounts were forbidden by the school, and he figured that the person that set it up was already on tabs on that. Felicia may act stupid at times, but she knew what she was doing.
Trowa wasn’t worried about Ramos finding out who it was that was blackmailing him, so that didn’t even cross his thoughts.
Middie Une...the girl was persistent, if not very annoying. She continuously thought of many things to try and break them up, even going so far as telling Quatre that she and Trowa had slept together while he was at a checkup for his knee. But Trowa had felt such utmost pride and relief when Quatre disputed that, just knowing that Trowa wouldn’t do such a thing. And Trowa wouldn’t–the notion was simply atrocious. Why would he mess up on something so good?
Their relationship, by far, was great. The boys knew they loved each other, and despite the occasional argument and fight over inconsequential things, they were tightly bound to the other. Trowa was even toying with the idea of ‘promise rings’ and a foreseeable future together beyond high school. He knew it was silly–much too soon, much too early, because who knows? They were still in high school. Things could change. But they felt so good, so right, that the notion didn’t entirely die. He knew Quatre loved him–the blond was unfailing in letting him know. Sometimes, though, he was entirely too mushy–such things made Trowa smile. This coming from a guy who couldn’t stand to be touched in public during the beginning of their relationship. Quatre was forever hanging off of him, and while it was comforting, sometimes it got too damn suffocating. Which made Trowa’s eyes roll at the thought because he had been that way in the beginning, as well.
But...things were going so well! On his end, and on Quat’s. Despite Trowa’s insecurity over such fleeting figures such as Felicia Passage and various others that wanted the athlete to themselves, he knew Quatre wasn’t one to stray. Quatre was loyal, trustworthy, and completely lacking such needs to stray. Trowa knew because he made sure of this. He made the blond happy; sexually, emotionally, and everything else-ally. And Quatre made him just as happy in return.
Things were looking so great! And then this trip to Spain had to come and make a jumble of things.
He leaned back in his seat, exhaling heavily. This business in Barcelona and perhaps beyond was going to be something different. Catherine had mentioned little else after the previous information she’d received nearly four months earlier, and she was just in the dark as he once he thought about it. The mention of long lost relatives did bring a spark of interest within him, but...he wasn’t really sure if he wanted to meet these relatives of his. It had been years since their parents’ accident, and these relatives wanted to get into contact with them, now? After all this time? It seemed a little messed up, but...they didn’t sound like very nice people. They could have heard of Catherine Bloom’s ‘escapades’ on the porn district and wanted to cash in on the millions she was making...But Catherine was adamant about meeting them, and he was curious, so here they were, on a plane to Barcelona.
Well, it wouldn’t hurt to try and find out the real truth. And besides, it would probably do him some good, anyway. Meet new people, learn some of his roots, get back to speaking his own language...such things were exciting to think about.
His parents, Zack Michael and Anna Michele Barton, were killed in a head-on collusion on their way back from Anna’s parents’ home in July, 2079. Shortly after, their grandparents succumbed to old age, and Zack was without parents and family of his own, and Anna’s parents had just passed on, with no other living relatives. The two children were taken into child-care, never separated, and shuttled from place to place until Catherine was of age to declare guardianship over her younger brother. Together, they survived on Catherine’s meager earnings and Trowa’s occasional job until Catherine hit it big with American porn directors, and transferred to America to continue making her films.
Catherine had succeeded in the triple X world of erotica, and made more than enough to send Trowa to the private boarding school in Marysville. There, Trowa resided and took small jobs of his own, most of which concerned selling drugs, and the two siblings were quite content with their lives. Catherine spoke only to check up on him and to make sure he was okay, and he was all right with that. They may not resemble the picture of family closeness, but they survived on their rather casual bond that sunk deeper than anyone would know upon looking at them.
Catherine leaned her seat back, settling her sunglasses over her eyes and preparing to sleep. Trowa figured he may as well as do the same. The flight was going to take over five hours–Capricorn Travels, the company in charge of these airlines, insured quick transport around the world and off the planet.. He was familiar with them because they had the best rates and the best travel times.
And, Felicia Passage’s uncle owned the business, and she had given them the free tickets for a round trip back to the States. In return for this gift, Catherine had sent the teenage girl coupons for free porn, of which she had to redeem before the year’s end. Catherine, upon meeting the girl that Trowa had once considered a friend, had liked her instantly. Trowa found that rather messed-up because while Catherine liked the girl, she didn’t like his boyfriend.
Which was really not that surprising, because most girls, when meeting Quatre Winner for the first time, ended up despising the blond anyway. He had a rather misogynic view of women, which Trowa found hilarious because the guy had twenty-nine sisters–of which, ten lived in the States. And really, it wasn’t that Quatre hated women–he just said the wrong things at the wrong times. He wasn’t totally hateful of the female gender–which only sparked Trowa’s humor because sometimes Quatre didn’t know when to keep quiet or had that common sense in what he was going to say was going to be the wrong thing. It was hilarious when Quatre tried to regain ground with the offended, and only managed to continue the slander, of which resulted in disastrous results.
He stared out the window, and sighed heavily. He was missing Quat all ready.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Catherine was dressed more respectively when she and Trowa met their first social worker, a retired woman with gray hair and a large, abundant frame. The black woman sighed tiredly as she shuffled through the various papers before her, searching for the link she had discovered nearly three years before and had managed to find Catherine in America to let her know. The house was comfortably warm, too sparsely furnished, and there was the faint scent of peppermint in the air.
Trowa sat silently, hands folded between his knees as Catherine studied the woman’s family photos that covered the peach-colored walls of her home. The black woman, Luna, adjusted the heavy glasses over her nose, and finally located the paper that she had run over while closing out her more older cases in the fostering system.
“Here,” she said, holding it out to Catherine, speaking in Spanish. Trowa understood bits and pieces, and though he spoke the language quite fluidly when he was younger, it had been nearly ten years since he had learned English, and so, it wasn’t necessarily coming back all at once. Catherine, though, the oldest, knew every bit and piece and turned from the photos to take the paper.
The woman lifted her heavy frame from a creaking wooden chair, and replaced it underneath the table. She made her way into the kitchen, where she poured three glasses of lemonade, the slices of the bitter fruit dancing within the container. Catherine read the paper, frowning as she made her way back to Trowa.
Luna appeared with the glasses, and pass two of them to the siblings. As Catherine finished, Trowa sipped at the juice, trying not to wince at the strong taste of lemon. Catherine sighed, looking at him.
“Mom had an estranged cousin from her father’s side,” she said, walking over to join him on the couch. She showed him the photos, bright red fingernail tracing over the familiar features of their mother. Anna had Catherine with an old high school flame before she met and married Zack. Trowa was the result nearly a year after their marriage. “I remember her...she and mom didn’t get along very well. They were always fighting. This cousin, Sicily, was mom’s dad’s adopted sister’s first child.”
“And...?”
“Do you want to meet her?”
“I don’t know. She and mom didn’t get along very well?”
“No.” Catherine studied him closely as Luna waited, not understanding the English that was being spoken. “Do you?”
Trowa shrugged. “Not really, then. I mean, it would be pointless. The woman didn’t like mom, so what would make her like us?”
“Trowa...”
“I’m serious!”
“All right, all right.” Catherine rose, sighing. “We know that this woman hated our mother,” she said, switching to Spanish. “She may be our last relative, but...she’s not related to us in blood. She was our mother’s father’s adopted sister’s first child. She may not get along with us.”
Luna shrugged. “I thought I would give it a try.”
“Thank you so much for your efforts, though. It’s really nice to meet you again!” Catherine said, taking her hand, then hugging her. “It’s been so long!”
Luna returned her hug awkwardly, chuckling. “You two have grown up so beautifully...I am truly glad the pair of you are doing well..”
“Thanks. We manage,” Catherine said, pulling away. Luna gestured at the couch, where Trowa shifted to give Catherine sitting room.
Luna took a seat across the room, grunting with the effort of doing so. She smiled in their direction, adjusting her glasses. “So? Tell me...how is life in America?”
Catherine sighed, not wanting to come right out and let her know what she did for a living. She felt that it would shock the older woman, and didn’t want her to have a heart attack. “I work in the entertainment industry...my brother, Trowa, attends high school. He’s quite the artist! Trowa, show her your drawings,” she then commanded in English, startling the boy out of his thoughts. With a slight frown, he pulled out his sketchbook from his travel bag and passed it to Luna, who looked through it with an incredulous gaze on her face.
“He’s hoping to make it big in that industry,” Catherine then continued in Spanish, leaning forward in her seat. “Maybe as a animator, or still-life..whatever. But you should see his ceramics...he paints, as well.”
“Very beautiful,” Luna exclaimed over the lifelike drawings that the book held. She looked at the various classmates that Trowa had drawn over the months, the places and things that were so carefully drawn in both charcoal and ink. She then had to pause on a few of them, raising an eyebrow as she looked over in Trowa’s direction. “Several of them are of the same person...”
Catherine shrugged thin shoulders. “He has a boyfriend.”
“Ah.” Luna nodded in understanding, and finished looking. She handed the sketchbook back and studied Trowa’s features as he put it away. “So, how are you, Trowa?”
“Fine,” he answered calmly, blinking as he tried remembering all the correct words and phrases he needed to use.
“I like your work...”
“Yeah...”
“Do you draw often?”
“Pretty much.”
Luna waited, then laughed, clapping her hands together in cheer as both siblings looked at her in surprise, the outburst becoming the first they’d seen from her. “Still quiet! Doesn’t speak as much, does he, now?”
Catherine shook her head, chirping, “Nope! Drives me crazy when I want to get a complete conversation from him! He’s quiet, but at least he’s sociable! He’s not all that awkward when he gets to know someone!”
“That’s fine, that’s fine,” Luna said, chuckling. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you any further than I have...”
“No! No, that’s all right!” Catherine said, rising from her seat. “You did so much for us! And, it’s not a total loss, anyway. I’ve been wanting a vacation, and Trowa needs to get out a little more...”
Luna rose from her chair, and held out her hand to the both of them. After shaking hands and making their goodbyes, Catherine led the way out. Upon entering the peaceful Spanish setting of Luna’s front yard, she sighed heavily, thin shoulders hunching forward as Trowa adjusted his pack over his back.
“Well, that went no where,” she said on a sigh, curling wisps of auburn hair behind her ear. She reached out, curling her arm through Trowa’s as they made their way out onto the sidewalk. The cheer of the people around them, all intent in their own purposes and agendas, were much too uplifting. Catherine found herself smiling brightly despite the fact that they were given another dead end to the possibility of lost family members. “What do you want to do, now!?”
“Get some rest,” Trowa said on a yawn, covering his mouth. “It’s bed time...”
“C’mon! We’re going to be here for two more months! You can sleep later! Let’s go find someplace to eat, I’m starving!”
“Catherine, really, I’m tired. I’ll head back to the hotel..”
She sighed, hanging her head. “Fine. Fine, go ahead. Talk to your boyfriend while I’m out and about by myself...lonely...sad...all alone...”
Trowa rolled his eyes, and continued walking alongside her. “All right, all right. Cut out that woe-is-me bullshit. Let’s go find somewhere to eat, then head back to the hotel.”
Catherine perked. She knew she would be able to convince him otherwise. She curled her arm through his once more and led the way to an outside café. Despite the dead-end, things were looking up. Vacationing in Spain wasn’t going to be a bad thing...she could smell the salty air of the sea just beyond the scattering of various buildings in the horizon–the shouts in Spanish and the light traffic was something entirely different compared to the hustle and bustle of New Park City, and frankly, the smaller population of Barcelona was something of a Godsend. In New Park City, one would suffocate simply because natural oxygen supply was currently in use by a smattering of some thirty million people crammed on the West Coast. This difference in both country and nationality could do her and her younger brother some good. She wasn’t about to waste it by moping.
Looking forward for a grand time, Catherine hugged her brother very briefly and was very thankful when he didn’t even roll his eyes.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
They spent a month sight-seeing, touring the various areas of their youth, and even taking a trip out to Zaragoza, the place of their parents’ birth. It hurt slightly to remember the parents that were taken away from him in such a careless way, but then again, it had been so long ago and he was so young, so it didn’t bother him as much as it did with Catherine. Trowa went along with the trip, filling his book with the various sights, taking pictures on his camera phone, and generally absorbing the difference of this country compared to America. It was so much more peaceful, lest hectic and a general change of pace. He had adjusted to the difference in language and spoke it as fluently as Catherine was, and he didn’t have trouble readjusting to the differences in etiquette and social graces here.
Catherine had decided to stay in their hotel for some sleep, as she had spent the last night at a popular night club. Trowa had wanted something to eat, so he’d left the hotel to head to a small hole in the wall whose food he really liked, and was heading back when he’d accidently lost his way. He knew where the hotel was, and where the hole-in-the-wall restaurant was, but he hadn’t paid any attention on which direction to turn to get back to the hotel. Embarrassing, really, because he could see the hotel’s roof but there was a small villa separating him from the place, and he couldn’t remember left from right. It just a glitch in memory, but hell, everyone experienced it.
He wasn’t watching where he was going as he fiddled with his phone, trying to find Catherine’s number. And so, he bumped into another person that was walking about, and he reached out automatically to keep the person from falling to the sidewalk. His hand touched the smooth shoulder of a woman, who was busily trying to keep her purchase from falling to the ground. She ended up dropping her bag anyway, so Trowa quickly set his phone back into his pack and bent, gathering her scattered cheeses, fruits and small container of milk.
Then he straightened, handing her her bag, the woman pausing as she reached for it, her eyes locked on his face. He knew a lot of people stared at him for his looks, and this woman was no different from the others, but he felt a blush creeping upon his features anyway. Simply because she looked to be in her late thirties, early forties. She didn’t have obvious wrinkles, but there was some slight sag in the corner of her eyes and at the corners of her mouth. She took the bag, lowering her head with a small chuckle.
She was a tall woman, her long, light brown hair feathered into an updo, her perfume a light mixture of musk and roses. She wore a shoulder-less shirt over a muted skirt, her long legs showcased by low heeled shoes. She wore a single rosebud in her feathered hair, and a tiny gold cross at her neck. She stared down at him over a slightly hooked nose, her serious brown eyes taking in his entire appearance. Trowa felt a little unnerved by the stare, stepping back from the woman.
“Excuse me,” he muttered, walking away from her.
“Wait.”
Pausing in mid-step, Trowa looked back. The woman was looking after him with an expression of concentration, her softly colored lips pulling into a slight smirk. Trowa felt a little more than annoyed at the stare she was giving him, her mature features assessing him. There was something condescending in her look, something that told him she was judging him. Comparing him. He hoped that she wasn’t trying to hit on him, or something.
She lifted her hand in repose, chuckling lightly. “It is my fault,” she said with a slight shake of her head. “I was not watching where I was going. Forgive me.”
Trowa blinked, shifting his own purchases to his other hand. Then he shrugged a shoulder. “It’s fine. Really.”
He started to turn and walk away when she took a few quick steps forward, her hand dropping to his shoulder. He looked at her in startled surprise as she flicked a finger over his nose. He stood a few inches over her, really, but she was a tall woman. Standing proudly at nearly six feet, her frame solid and yet delicate at the same time, she managed to keep his attention with her eyes directing addressing his. She really wasn’t that exceptional–her hooked nose, her hard brown eyes, her somewhat dominant manner...but there was something captivating about her, something interesting.
“You’re an American, aren’t you?” she asked slyly, one corner of her mouth lifting.
He shook his head. “I live there, but I’m not. My parents were originally from Zaragoza...My sister and I are just visiting...”
“How interesting,” the woman murmured, stepping away from him. “You’re very young...”
“No. I turned eighteen in June...”
“Happy birthday, then. Perhaps I’ll see you around, then? I live just around the corner...”
Trowa shrugged. Yep. She was trying to hit on him. The prospect of an older woman was always an allure, but he was in a committed relationship. It just wasn’t possible. And besides, she really wasn’t his type. And more after, why the hell was he thinking this way? It sounded as if he were already giving excuses on why he couldn’t allow further continuation of this clandestine meeting. Well, it really wasn’t secret–it was on a public street, and it wasn’t as if they were going to do anything...
“Maybe,” he said in response.
The woman smiled, revealing the whites of her teeth, then walked off. Trowa stared after her, wondering what that was all about. Really, he knew people were friendly, but that conversation was just a little odd. He felt a little guilty about it. For what reason, he wasn’t able to place. Frowning, he turned and continued walking, pulling his cell phone out from his pocket and speed-dialing Quatre. He had the sudden impulse to talk to the blond.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
He saw the woman once more, when he and Catherine were waiting for their food to be prepared in a small restaurant in Mataro. He blinked, wondering if it was actually the same woman, and when Catherine left to use the restroom, the woman approached him, knowing smirk on her face.
“Hello again, stranger,” she greeted, carrying a bottle of water. He gave a slight smile in her direction, but felt instantly crowded when she stepped into his space, face turned up to his. “Well, I never thought to see you here! Especially so soon...are you here with your sister?”
“Yeah,” he answered, refusing the impulse to elbow her away. She was an older woman, not a teenager.
She looked around with interest, searching for Catherine, but upon not seeing her, looked back up at him. “I never introduced myself the last time we met,” she began, taking his hand in a firm shake. Her fingers traced across his palm, skittered over his fingertips, and without wanting to, he actually felt a small thrill race through him, and he blinked at his own response. “My name’s Amelie...Amelie Une.”
Trowa shuddered suddenly, drawing away from her. In surprise, Amelie blinked, wondering what she’d said wrong. Realizing he was acting rudely, Trowa fought the faint blush in his face and cleared his throat. “Any relation to a, ah, Middie Une?”
Amelie blinked, then shook her head. “No. ‘Une’ is actually quite common. Just as common as ‘Smith’, or ‘Williams’ in your America.”
Trowa wondered if that was supposed to be comforting, but shifted awkwardly, looking for Catherine to come and rescue him. Christ...what a damned coincidence to find another female that was attracted to him with the same last name. It must be a sign of some sort, or something. Or someone was playing a joke on him...either way, how embarrassing. Then he realized that it wasn’t the woman’s fault for having the same last name as Middie’s. He shifted, facing her. “I’m sorry. My name’s Trowa Barton.”
“Trowa,” Amelie drawled, sounding it out with a thoughtful movement of her plump lips. Then she focused in on his face, brown eyes taking in his features, molesting him. He suddenly felt undressed and exposed, and fought the rising blush that struggle to reach out from the collar of his shirt. She then smiled slightly, tilting a corner of her mouth upward. “Well, it was certainly nice meeting you, Trowa Barton. I hope we meet again...maybe the third time might be a charm, you think?”
Trowa cleared his throat. How obvious that was. The woman wanted him. How utterly embarrassing and yet...so uplifting. An older woman actually wanted him, when all he was used to was the gaggle of teenage hormones that seemed to follow him everywhere. While Amelie Une’s attention was certainly flattering, it made him feel inadequate. He nodded in response to her inquiry, then blinked because he wondered what she thought of that.
Amelie smiled at him, then leaned forward, kissing his cheek, lingering enough to leave an imprint of color on his skin, then walked off, disappearing through the throng of people in the restaurant. He stood there, stunned, and wiped off the color on his cheek. When Catherine reached him, smiling cheerily, Trowa looked back at her and contemplated the woman’s flattering advances. Well, it wasn’t like he was cheating on Quatre...he could think about Amelie Une and her older woman appeal. There was nothing wrong with it, was there?
Standard Disclaimers Apply: Don’t own Gundam Wing, but I own every original character that emerges...Don’t own the songs listed with the chapters, either...Or any other big name thingy that comes by...
Warnings: Original Fictional Charas (who get mighty annoying ~_~), cursing, partying, general teen angst, plenty of misunderstandings, naughty sexual behavior, and helluva out of character charas!
Pairings: 3 x 4/ 4 x 3, 1 + 2 ,/ 2 + 1, 5 x M, and more!
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20 means scene change
Chapter One~
“I Am” Static-X
Aprexal International Airport was crowded with an overload of travelers. Similarly crowded as it was during Christmas, Quatre R. Winner had to work his way through the crowd just to keep his pace next to Trowa Barton, his boyfriend of over seven months.
Ahead of them, speaking into her cell phone, Catherine Bloom, AKA “Miss Nibble”, pushed her way through the crowd to get to their destination. The petite woman, barely over five foot two, had poured herself into a pair of tight cut-offs, a pink corset top that pushed up her small chest, and her wild auburn hair, darker than Trowa’s, was pushed back into an unruly ponytail. She worked the airport like some runway model, and Trowa, acting the role of the protective brother, scowled at anything and everyone that performed second glances and tried to approach her. Catherine, of course, loved the attention and flashed over a thousand bucks worth of a white smile at those that met her. She signed a few autographs, but wasn’t deterred from their flight.
Quatre scowled at her back–Catherine wasn’t going to be his most favorite person in the world. She was rude, abrupt, and upon meeting him for the first time, had smacked him across the face for giving her little bro stitches. Then she went on ranting and raving over the shit that had gone down in Laramie, and when Trowa had to separate the two, Catherine had added a little dig about the smaller the blond, the smaller the penis. It shouldn’t have bothered him, because he knew Trowa was happy with what he had, but still–coming from someone like Catherine, Miss Porn Star, was something to get irritated with.
Catherine had then proceeded to ignore him, and spoke only to Trowa, addressing him as if Quatre weren’t even there. It was very annoying, but then again, that was that. There wasn’t anything he could do to change her mind about him, and frankly, he didn’t care. Just one more female to hate him, and that was all right with him. As long as he had Trowa, he was going to be fine.
Quatre, unfortunately, wasn’t able to venture past the security checkpoint that was set up before the terminals, so he had to cut his stay with Trowa short. As they neared the designated area, Quatre could feel his imminent sadness and feelings of withdrawal already pulling him down. He reached out, and captured Trowa’s hand within his, entirely down about this situation. Trowa was going to leave him here in America while he and his sister went to Barcelona, Spain, to further explore the possibilities of long-lost relatives there. It was just a hunch, a whispered rumor along Catherine’s rumor-mill, but the siblings were determined to check it out for themselves. They had lost their parents when they were very young, and were carted off to various foster homes and countries before Catherine made it big here in America as a porn-star ‘actress’.
Quatre could understand why Trowa would want to go, but that meant they would have to be separated for nearly three months. Three months, because that was the estimated time of their journey and search, and it was summer break from school. Catherine wanted this to be a vacation as well, and she was going to drag her little brother with her. Trowa, upon much contemplation, wanted to explore the country of his birth as well, and while definitely down that he would be leaving Quatre behind, figured it would just have to do. Quatre would just have to deal with it.
With a reassuring squeeze of his hand, Trowa glanced down at his blond love with a smile, revealing all his teeth. Since he had his braces removed, the boy had been showing his teeth more often. It was quite nice, actually. He’d grown to six foot three, his body filling out at the shoulders, baby fat gone, his limbs long and lean. While he still maintained his odd hairstyle, the auburn wisps cut very short all around except for a fall of hair over his face, Trowa was still the attractive boy Quatre met upon arriving to Sophia Darken Academy last year. And with those braces gone (not that they were obvious, anyway–Quatre always had a hard time seeing them), Trowa’s broad smiling and flashing of his teeth garnered the boy more attention then Quatre liked or that Trowa himself was comfortable with.
Quatre tried to muster one of his own, but was unable to. Sighing heavily, dragging his feet, he adjusted Trowa’s travel bag against his chest and plowed his way through the people that surged against him.
“It’s only until the end of August, Quat,” Trowa said, for the thousandth time this week, wanting to cheer up those downcast blue/green eyes. He nudged him with an elbow. “Besides, we can always keep in touch with each other...”
Trowa had suggested that they buy cell phones, and had actually bought them on his own account, seeing that Quatre’s current situation prevented him from doing so. Due to the lack of funds that he had been so free with earlier in the year, because his father had officially cut him off his financial support and placed him in the care of middle-class ‘foster parents’, Quatre was unable to go out and splurge on such things. His ‘foster parents’ being his uncle Rashid, and his wife, Lana. They had made enough to keep themselves comfortable, and to provide a small splurge among their various children, but the add on of Quatre to their care list had put a strain in their financial situation. The tuition and board for him to attend Sophia Darken Academy had already been paid for by Ramid’s earlier enrollment, so that situation wasn’t a costly trouble. Even so, he barely had money to spend on various things, and Trowa, relying on his sister’s income and the fact that he sold the occasional drug, splurged on him at times.
Trowa had figured that each of them having a cell phone would be one of their best bets in keeping constant contact with each other, considering that it was easier to use than having to ring the school, or for Quatre to use the school phones to reach him overseas.
“Yeah, but...it’s not the same,” Quatre whined.
“I know...but...it’s the closest we can get.”
Quatre frowned, holding tightly onto Trowa’s hand and clutching the traveling bag. Trowa bent and awkwardly placed a kiss on the top of his head, murmuring that by the time he got back to New Park, Quatre had better gain a few more inches or he was kicking his ass. But even that small ‘encouragement’ earned nothing from the blond, as the blond was staring too heavily at the upcoming checkpoint. He hadn’t grown yet, even as Trowa seemed to add inches to his height every day. He had come to the Academy standing at five foot seven, and stopped pitifully at five foot eight. He was hoping for a few more inches, but no matter the amount of milk and stretching he did, his height didn’t seem to budge. He hoped that when Trowa came back, he might have gained a couple of inches and he would be looking Trowa in the eye. His father, Ramid, stood at six feet one, and he wasn’t sure what his mother stood at, but she had to be tall, damn it. Most of his sisters were–it would only be natural for the only male to shoot up to be taller than his father! He was counting on a last-minute growth spurt to help him along, but who knew?
Trowa took the bag from him as Catherine glanced over her shoulder at them, making sure that they were nearby and haven’t been captured by terrorists or something of the sort.
The line for the checkpoint was long, but moving along quite nicely. In a minute, Quatre would have to let go of Trowa and walk away. He really didn’t want to. Earlier, before they left the dormitory, he’d tried cramming himself into Trowa’s suitcase, but was unable to bend himself into appropriate positions to zip it up. Trowa had laughed, and they had last minute sex (showering before meeting with Catherine), but their time to separate was coming no matter what. He clutched Trowa’s hand tighter, frowning at the guards that were swiftly running their scanners over everybody and checking their bags. He looked up at Trowa, and sighed, figuring that he may as well as get over it. Trowa was coming back to him...he just had to wait.
Trowa turned to him, then enveloped him into a hug. Quatre hugged him just as tightly, not wanting to let go of the person he’d come to love entirely. He took one last inhale of the mixture of Eternity for Men and Coast soap, the feel of slim muscle and bony spine under his hands, and the feel of stubble against his temple.
“Don’t make this so hard, Quat!” Trowa laughed gently, kissing his hair as they moved along the line. “I’ll be back before you know it...it won’t be that bad!”
“Says you...traipsing all over Europe while I waste away in stupid summer school,” Quatre muttered against his neck. “You’ll be hanging out with porn stars and lost family members while I get to play with the more stupid members of school...”
“C’mon...it won’t be that bad. At least you learned your lesson, right? You can call me anytime, no matter what time or day it is, okay? I love you...” Trowa murmured against his temple, inhaling his own share of Head and Shoulders, of Aveeno lotion, of Fresh Stick deodorant. He closed his eyes, knowing that he was going to miss this while he was away. The feel of his baller against him, the feel of toned muscle and slim statue, of wispy white-blond hair. They had to move faster to accommodate the quickly shrinking line, and before they knew it, they were three people away from the guards with the scanners. He let go of Quatre, kissing him briefly, then letting go.
Quatre watched with much heaviness as Trowa walked away from him, setting his bag on the metal rollers and being scanned by the detectors. Trowa waved at him from beyond the line, and he slumped his shoulders, reluctantly making his way out of the area. Sighing very heavily, head hanging, Quatre stuffed his hand into his jacket pocket, fingering the new cell phone Trowa had bought just for him, so they could keep in contact with each other.
He pulled it out, staring at it as he maneuvered his way out from the airport and into the taxi area. It was a simple model–a BlackBerry, complete with mini-computer, vid-phone attachments, access to Internet services, games, ability to take pictures, dayplanner, music player...and, oh yes, he was able to talk to Trowa once dialing his number (which was on speed dial). It was oblong, smooth, very slim, and looked similar to a computer mouse. It felt funny in his hand, the weight uncomfortably new and, despite the neon blue color, looked completely girly. But Trowa had a similar model in purple, so he didn’t feel too bad.
He sighed again, sliding into a taxi and giving the school’s address. He leaned back in his seat and stared out the window as the cab pulled away from the curb. He was going to hate this. Hate being separated from Trowa, for these next three months. Three months of hell. He was going to hate it.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Trowa stared out the window as the plane lifted off, giving him that awful stomach in throat feeling as the huge monstrosity, carrying over a thousand passengers, gained speed through the crowded airspace over New Park City. Closing his eyes, he imagined his high school love taking the taxi back to the school, where he would no doubt wander all alone in the empty halls of the dorms, as most of the kids had left Sophia Darken for homes or other destinations for the summer. Most of their friends had left nearly two days ago, and last Trowa had counted, there were only fifty plus students left, counting him. He knew Quatre was going to be bored–but better that than getting into trouble and failing his classes. Trowa hoped that Quatre was able to pass. How sucky it would be for his boyfriend to be held back a year because he was just stupid because he continually skipped out on his homework. Quatre was smart–he just didn’t apply himself or bother with such things. Trowa didn’t want that to happen, so he hoped that Quatre would take this down time and get onto the right track.
He sighed lightly, Catherine adjusting her seatbelt next to him. They were flying first class, and already the stewardesses were passing out drinks and snacks. He didn’t feel like eating, so he declined his share. Catherine took a bourbon, and sipped delicately as she stared at a point ahead of them. A movie concerning Lindsay Lohan was playing, but Trowa wasn’t interested. Catherine wouldn’t talk unless she felt she had something to say, so he figured this was going to be a pretty long ride to Barcelona.
He reached into his traveling bag, withdrawing his sketchpad. May as well as pass the time by drawing. Catherine watched without comment as he drew out what characters had stood out at the airport, and as he drew, he began to reflect on the past year.
It ended well, considering Quatre’s continuous streak of recklessness. His knee had healed well, despite Middie Une’s vicious ‘attack’, and he was already passing much time by hitting the court. He missed out on the season, though, the team heading onto Zone, but failing to make State. Their coach, Ramos, had quietly agreed to the continued blackmail attempt that Trowa and Felicia Passage had set up anonymously with him to continue to keep Quatre playing for another year, despite the trouble he gave the team with his attitude and the fact that he couldn’t get along with the girls. Trowa had suspected that Ramos was trying to track down the people blackmailing him with such accusing evidence of child pornography and the fact that such accounts were forbidden by the school, and he figured that the person that set it up was already on tabs on that. Felicia may act stupid at times, but she knew what she was doing.
Trowa wasn’t worried about Ramos finding out who it was that was blackmailing him, so that didn’t even cross his thoughts.
Middie Une...the girl was persistent, if not very annoying. She continuously thought of many things to try and break them up, even going so far as telling Quatre that she and Trowa had slept together while he was at a checkup for his knee. But Trowa had felt such utmost pride and relief when Quatre disputed that, just knowing that Trowa wouldn’t do such a thing. And Trowa wouldn’t–the notion was simply atrocious. Why would he mess up on something so good?
Their relationship, by far, was great. The boys knew they loved each other, and despite the occasional argument and fight over inconsequential things, they were tightly bound to the other. Trowa was even toying with the idea of ‘promise rings’ and a foreseeable future together beyond high school. He knew it was silly–much too soon, much too early, because who knows? They were still in high school. Things could change. But they felt so good, so right, that the notion didn’t entirely die. He knew Quatre loved him–the blond was unfailing in letting him know. Sometimes, though, he was entirely too mushy–such things made Trowa smile. This coming from a guy who couldn’t stand to be touched in public during the beginning of their relationship. Quatre was forever hanging off of him, and while it was comforting, sometimes it got too damn suffocating. Which made Trowa’s eyes roll at the thought because he had been that way in the beginning, as well.
But...things were going so well! On his end, and on Quat’s. Despite Trowa’s insecurity over such fleeting figures such as Felicia Passage and various others that wanted the athlete to themselves, he knew Quatre wasn’t one to stray. Quatre was loyal, trustworthy, and completely lacking such needs to stray. Trowa knew because he made sure of this. He made the blond happy; sexually, emotionally, and everything else-ally. And Quatre made him just as happy in return.
Things were looking so great! And then this trip to Spain had to come and make a jumble of things.
He leaned back in his seat, exhaling heavily. This business in Barcelona and perhaps beyond was going to be something different. Catherine had mentioned little else after the previous information she’d received nearly four months earlier, and she was just in the dark as he once he thought about it. The mention of long lost relatives did bring a spark of interest within him, but...he wasn’t really sure if he wanted to meet these relatives of his. It had been years since their parents’ accident, and these relatives wanted to get into contact with them, now? After all this time? It seemed a little messed up, but...they didn’t sound like very nice people. They could have heard of Catherine Bloom’s ‘escapades’ on the porn district and wanted to cash in on the millions she was making...But Catherine was adamant about meeting them, and he was curious, so here they were, on a plane to Barcelona.
Well, it wouldn’t hurt to try and find out the real truth. And besides, it would probably do him some good, anyway. Meet new people, learn some of his roots, get back to speaking his own language...such things were exciting to think about.
His parents, Zack Michael and Anna Michele Barton, were killed in a head-on collusion on their way back from Anna’s parents’ home in July, 2079. Shortly after, their grandparents succumbed to old age, and Zack was without parents and family of his own, and Anna’s parents had just passed on, with no other living relatives. The two children were taken into child-care, never separated, and shuttled from place to place until Catherine was of age to declare guardianship over her younger brother. Together, they survived on Catherine’s meager earnings and Trowa’s occasional job until Catherine hit it big with American porn directors, and transferred to America to continue making her films.
Catherine had succeeded in the triple X world of erotica, and made more than enough to send Trowa to the private boarding school in Marysville. There, Trowa resided and took small jobs of his own, most of which concerned selling drugs, and the two siblings were quite content with their lives. Catherine spoke only to check up on him and to make sure he was okay, and he was all right with that. They may not resemble the picture of family closeness, but they survived on their rather casual bond that sunk deeper than anyone would know upon looking at them.
Catherine leaned her seat back, settling her sunglasses over her eyes and preparing to sleep. Trowa figured he may as well as do the same. The flight was going to take over five hours–Capricorn Travels, the company in charge of these airlines, insured quick transport around the world and off the planet.. He was familiar with them because they had the best rates and the best travel times.
And, Felicia Passage’s uncle owned the business, and she had given them the free tickets for a round trip back to the States. In return for this gift, Catherine had sent the teenage girl coupons for free porn, of which she had to redeem before the year’s end. Catherine, upon meeting the girl that Trowa had once considered a friend, had liked her instantly. Trowa found that rather messed-up because while Catherine liked the girl, she didn’t like his boyfriend.
Which was really not that surprising, because most girls, when meeting Quatre Winner for the first time, ended up despising the blond anyway. He had a rather misogynic view of women, which Trowa found hilarious because the guy had twenty-nine sisters–of which, ten lived in the States. And really, it wasn’t that Quatre hated women–he just said the wrong things at the wrong times. He wasn’t totally hateful of the female gender–which only sparked Trowa’s humor because sometimes Quatre didn’t know when to keep quiet or had that common sense in what he was going to say was going to be the wrong thing. It was hilarious when Quatre tried to regain ground with the offended, and only managed to continue the slander, of which resulted in disastrous results.
He stared out the window, and sighed heavily. He was missing Quat all ready.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Catherine was dressed more respectively when she and Trowa met their first social worker, a retired woman with gray hair and a large, abundant frame. The black woman sighed tiredly as she shuffled through the various papers before her, searching for the link she had discovered nearly three years before and had managed to find Catherine in America to let her know. The house was comfortably warm, too sparsely furnished, and there was the faint scent of peppermint in the air.
Trowa sat silently, hands folded between his knees as Catherine studied the woman’s family photos that covered the peach-colored walls of her home. The black woman, Luna, adjusted the heavy glasses over her nose, and finally located the paper that she had run over while closing out her more older cases in the fostering system.
“Here,” she said, holding it out to Catherine, speaking in Spanish. Trowa understood bits and pieces, and though he spoke the language quite fluidly when he was younger, it had been nearly ten years since he had learned English, and so, it wasn’t necessarily coming back all at once. Catherine, though, the oldest, knew every bit and piece and turned from the photos to take the paper.
The woman lifted her heavy frame from a creaking wooden chair, and replaced it underneath the table. She made her way into the kitchen, where she poured three glasses of lemonade, the slices of the bitter fruit dancing within the container. Catherine read the paper, frowning as she made her way back to Trowa.
Luna appeared with the glasses, and pass two of them to the siblings. As Catherine finished, Trowa sipped at the juice, trying not to wince at the strong taste of lemon. Catherine sighed, looking at him.
“Mom had an estranged cousin from her father’s side,” she said, walking over to join him on the couch. She showed him the photos, bright red fingernail tracing over the familiar features of their mother. Anna had Catherine with an old high school flame before she met and married Zack. Trowa was the result nearly a year after their marriage. “I remember her...she and mom didn’t get along very well. They were always fighting. This cousin, Sicily, was mom’s dad’s adopted sister’s first child.”
“And...?”
“Do you want to meet her?”
“I don’t know. She and mom didn’t get along very well?”
“No.” Catherine studied him closely as Luna waited, not understanding the English that was being spoken. “Do you?”
Trowa shrugged. “Not really, then. I mean, it would be pointless. The woman didn’t like mom, so what would make her like us?”
“Trowa...”
“I’m serious!”
“All right, all right.” Catherine rose, sighing. “We know that this woman hated our mother,” she said, switching to Spanish. “She may be our last relative, but...she’s not related to us in blood. She was our mother’s father’s adopted sister’s first child. She may not get along with us.”
Luna shrugged. “I thought I would give it a try.”
“Thank you so much for your efforts, though. It’s really nice to meet you again!” Catherine said, taking her hand, then hugging her. “It’s been so long!”
Luna returned her hug awkwardly, chuckling. “You two have grown up so beautifully...I am truly glad the pair of you are doing well..”
“Thanks. We manage,” Catherine said, pulling away. Luna gestured at the couch, where Trowa shifted to give Catherine sitting room.
Luna took a seat across the room, grunting with the effort of doing so. She smiled in their direction, adjusting her glasses. “So? Tell me...how is life in America?”
Catherine sighed, not wanting to come right out and let her know what she did for a living. She felt that it would shock the older woman, and didn’t want her to have a heart attack. “I work in the entertainment industry...my brother, Trowa, attends high school. He’s quite the artist! Trowa, show her your drawings,” she then commanded in English, startling the boy out of his thoughts. With a slight frown, he pulled out his sketchbook from his travel bag and passed it to Luna, who looked through it with an incredulous gaze on her face.
“He’s hoping to make it big in that industry,” Catherine then continued in Spanish, leaning forward in her seat. “Maybe as a animator, or still-life..whatever. But you should see his ceramics...he paints, as well.”
“Very beautiful,” Luna exclaimed over the lifelike drawings that the book held. She looked at the various classmates that Trowa had drawn over the months, the places and things that were so carefully drawn in both charcoal and ink. She then had to pause on a few of them, raising an eyebrow as she looked over in Trowa’s direction. “Several of them are of the same person...”
Catherine shrugged thin shoulders. “He has a boyfriend.”
“Ah.” Luna nodded in understanding, and finished looking. She handed the sketchbook back and studied Trowa’s features as he put it away. “So, how are you, Trowa?”
“Fine,” he answered calmly, blinking as he tried remembering all the correct words and phrases he needed to use.
“I like your work...”
“Yeah...”
“Do you draw often?”
“Pretty much.”
Luna waited, then laughed, clapping her hands together in cheer as both siblings looked at her in surprise, the outburst becoming the first they’d seen from her. “Still quiet! Doesn’t speak as much, does he, now?”
Catherine shook her head, chirping, “Nope! Drives me crazy when I want to get a complete conversation from him! He’s quiet, but at least he’s sociable! He’s not all that awkward when he gets to know someone!”
“That’s fine, that’s fine,” Luna said, chuckling. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you any further than I have...”
“No! No, that’s all right!” Catherine said, rising from her seat. “You did so much for us! And, it’s not a total loss, anyway. I’ve been wanting a vacation, and Trowa needs to get out a little more...”
Luna rose from her chair, and held out her hand to the both of them. After shaking hands and making their goodbyes, Catherine led the way out. Upon entering the peaceful Spanish setting of Luna’s front yard, she sighed heavily, thin shoulders hunching forward as Trowa adjusted his pack over his back.
“Well, that went no where,” she said on a sigh, curling wisps of auburn hair behind her ear. She reached out, curling her arm through Trowa’s as they made their way out onto the sidewalk. The cheer of the people around them, all intent in their own purposes and agendas, were much too uplifting. Catherine found herself smiling brightly despite the fact that they were given another dead end to the possibility of lost family members. “What do you want to do, now!?”
“Get some rest,” Trowa said on a yawn, covering his mouth. “It’s bed time...”
“C’mon! We’re going to be here for two more months! You can sleep later! Let’s go find someplace to eat, I’m starving!”
“Catherine, really, I’m tired. I’ll head back to the hotel..”
She sighed, hanging her head. “Fine. Fine, go ahead. Talk to your boyfriend while I’m out and about by myself...lonely...sad...all alone...”
Trowa rolled his eyes, and continued walking alongside her. “All right, all right. Cut out that woe-is-me bullshit. Let’s go find somewhere to eat, then head back to the hotel.”
Catherine perked. She knew she would be able to convince him otherwise. She curled her arm through his once more and led the way to an outside café. Despite the dead-end, things were looking up. Vacationing in Spain wasn’t going to be a bad thing...she could smell the salty air of the sea just beyond the scattering of various buildings in the horizon–the shouts in Spanish and the light traffic was something entirely different compared to the hustle and bustle of New Park City, and frankly, the smaller population of Barcelona was something of a Godsend. In New Park City, one would suffocate simply because natural oxygen supply was currently in use by a smattering of some thirty million people crammed on the West Coast. This difference in both country and nationality could do her and her younger brother some good. She wasn’t about to waste it by moping.
Looking forward for a grand time, Catherine hugged her brother very briefly and was very thankful when he didn’t even roll his eyes.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
They spent a month sight-seeing, touring the various areas of their youth, and even taking a trip out to Zaragoza, the place of their parents’ birth. It hurt slightly to remember the parents that were taken away from him in such a careless way, but then again, it had been so long ago and he was so young, so it didn’t bother him as much as it did with Catherine. Trowa went along with the trip, filling his book with the various sights, taking pictures on his camera phone, and generally absorbing the difference of this country compared to America. It was so much more peaceful, lest hectic and a general change of pace. He had adjusted to the difference in language and spoke it as fluently as Catherine was, and he didn’t have trouble readjusting to the differences in etiquette and social graces here.
Catherine had decided to stay in their hotel for some sleep, as she had spent the last night at a popular night club. Trowa had wanted something to eat, so he’d left the hotel to head to a small hole in the wall whose food he really liked, and was heading back when he’d accidently lost his way. He knew where the hotel was, and where the hole-in-the-wall restaurant was, but he hadn’t paid any attention on which direction to turn to get back to the hotel. Embarrassing, really, because he could see the hotel’s roof but there was a small villa separating him from the place, and he couldn’t remember left from right. It just a glitch in memory, but hell, everyone experienced it.
He wasn’t watching where he was going as he fiddled with his phone, trying to find Catherine’s number. And so, he bumped into another person that was walking about, and he reached out automatically to keep the person from falling to the sidewalk. His hand touched the smooth shoulder of a woman, who was busily trying to keep her purchase from falling to the ground. She ended up dropping her bag anyway, so Trowa quickly set his phone back into his pack and bent, gathering her scattered cheeses, fruits and small container of milk.
Then he straightened, handing her her bag, the woman pausing as she reached for it, her eyes locked on his face. He knew a lot of people stared at him for his looks, and this woman was no different from the others, but he felt a blush creeping upon his features anyway. Simply because she looked to be in her late thirties, early forties. She didn’t have obvious wrinkles, but there was some slight sag in the corner of her eyes and at the corners of her mouth. She took the bag, lowering her head with a small chuckle.
She was a tall woman, her long, light brown hair feathered into an updo, her perfume a light mixture of musk and roses. She wore a shoulder-less shirt over a muted skirt, her long legs showcased by low heeled shoes. She wore a single rosebud in her feathered hair, and a tiny gold cross at her neck. She stared down at him over a slightly hooked nose, her serious brown eyes taking in his entire appearance. Trowa felt a little unnerved by the stare, stepping back from the woman.
“Excuse me,” he muttered, walking away from her.
“Wait.”
Pausing in mid-step, Trowa looked back. The woman was looking after him with an expression of concentration, her softly colored lips pulling into a slight smirk. Trowa felt a little more than annoyed at the stare she was giving him, her mature features assessing him. There was something condescending in her look, something that told him she was judging him. Comparing him. He hoped that she wasn’t trying to hit on him, or something.
She lifted her hand in repose, chuckling lightly. “It is my fault,” she said with a slight shake of her head. “I was not watching where I was going. Forgive me.”
Trowa blinked, shifting his own purchases to his other hand. Then he shrugged a shoulder. “It’s fine. Really.”
He started to turn and walk away when she took a few quick steps forward, her hand dropping to his shoulder. He looked at her in startled surprise as she flicked a finger over his nose. He stood a few inches over her, really, but she was a tall woman. Standing proudly at nearly six feet, her frame solid and yet delicate at the same time, she managed to keep his attention with her eyes directing addressing his. She really wasn’t that exceptional–her hooked nose, her hard brown eyes, her somewhat dominant manner...but there was something captivating about her, something interesting.
“You’re an American, aren’t you?” she asked slyly, one corner of her mouth lifting.
He shook his head. “I live there, but I’m not. My parents were originally from Zaragoza...My sister and I are just visiting...”
“How interesting,” the woman murmured, stepping away from him. “You’re very young...”
“No. I turned eighteen in June...”
“Happy birthday, then. Perhaps I’ll see you around, then? I live just around the corner...”
Trowa shrugged. Yep. She was trying to hit on him. The prospect of an older woman was always an allure, but he was in a committed relationship. It just wasn’t possible. And besides, she really wasn’t his type. And more after, why the hell was he thinking this way? It sounded as if he were already giving excuses on why he couldn’t allow further continuation of this clandestine meeting. Well, it really wasn’t secret–it was on a public street, and it wasn’t as if they were going to do anything...
“Maybe,” he said in response.
The woman smiled, revealing the whites of her teeth, then walked off. Trowa stared after her, wondering what that was all about. Really, he knew people were friendly, but that conversation was just a little odd. He felt a little guilty about it. For what reason, he wasn’t able to place. Frowning, he turned and continued walking, pulling his cell phone out from his pocket and speed-dialing Quatre. He had the sudden impulse to talk to the blond.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
He saw the woman once more, when he and Catherine were waiting for their food to be prepared in a small restaurant in Mataro. He blinked, wondering if it was actually the same woman, and when Catherine left to use the restroom, the woman approached him, knowing smirk on her face.
“Hello again, stranger,” she greeted, carrying a bottle of water. He gave a slight smile in her direction, but felt instantly crowded when she stepped into his space, face turned up to his. “Well, I never thought to see you here! Especially so soon...are you here with your sister?”
“Yeah,” he answered, refusing the impulse to elbow her away. She was an older woman, not a teenager.
She looked around with interest, searching for Catherine, but upon not seeing her, looked back up at him. “I never introduced myself the last time we met,” she began, taking his hand in a firm shake. Her fingers traced across his palm, skittered over his fingertips, and without wanting to, he actually felt a small thrill race through him, and he blinked at his own response. “My name’s Amelie...Amelie Une.”
Trowa shuddered suddenly, drawing away from her. In surprise, Amelie blinked, wondering what she’d said wrong. Realizing he was acting rudely, Trowa fought the faint blush in his face and cleared his throat. “Any relation to a, ah, Middie Une?”
Amelie blinked, then shook her head. “No. ‘Une’ is actually quite common. Just as common as ‘Smith’, or ‘Williams’ in your America.”
Trowa wondered if that was supposed to be comforting, but shifted awkwardly, looking for Catherine to come and rescue him. Christ...what a damned coincidence to find another female that was attracted to him with the same last name. It must be a sign of some sort, or something. Or someone was playing a joke on him...either way, how embarrassing. Then he realized that it wasn’t the woman’s fault for having the same last name as Middie’s. He shifted, facing her. “I’m sorry. My name’s Trowa Barton.”
“Trowa,” Amelie drawled, sounding it out with a thoughtful movement of her plump lips. Then she focused in on his face, brown eyes taking in his features, molesting him. He suddenly felt undressed and exposed, and fought the rising blush that struggle to reach out from the collar of his shirt. She then smiled slightly, tilting a corner of her mouth upward. “Well, it was certainly nice meeting you, Trowa Barton. I hope we meet again...maybe the third time might be a charm, you think?”
Trowa cleared his throat. How obvious that was. The woman wanted him. How utterly embarrassing and yet...so uplifting. An older woman actually wanted him, when all he was used to was the gaggle of teenage hormones that seemed to follow him everywhere. While Amelie Une’s attention was certainly flattering, it made him feel inadequate. He nodded in response to her inquiry, then blinked because he wondered what she thought of that.
Amelie smiled at him, then leaned forward, kissing his cheek, lingering enough to leave an imprint of color on his skin, then walked off, disappearing through the throng of people in the restaurant. He stood there, stunned, and wiped off the color on his cheek. When Catherine reached him, smiling cheerily, Trowa looked back at her and contemplated the woman’s flattering advances. Well, it wasn’t like he was cheating on Quatre...he could think about Amelie Une and her older woman appeal. There was nothing wrong with it, was there?