Gundam Wing and these tasty bishonens don't belong to me (Until I rule Japan, that is), they belong to Sunrise Ent. Sue me, I dare you to! You'll only get my little brother! Mwahahahaha! Hey, *there's* an idea. . . NEways, blah blah blah, the usual disclaimers, yatta yatta yatta, and if you see Duo running aruond, give him back! He was tied to my bed, but he got loose. . . ::Snicker:: Enjoy! Questions, comments, flames, etc., can be sent to Shinigami_1@hotmail.com. Flames will be laughed at and returned, and posted on the Gundam Wing Mailing List I'm on for all to laugh at. Hahahaha!!

Forgotton Dreams part 10

An impish grin spread across Quatre's face as he and Trowa stopped in front of Duo's door. He brought Trowa's hand up to his lips and lightly kissed the back of it, then knocked on the door sharply. Pitching his voice high, "Room service!" A groan was all he got in return, and Trowa gave him a quizzical look. Quatre squeezed his hand in assurance and knocked again. "Room service! You want me give you new towels?"

"No! Go away!"

Quatre giggled. Knocking again, "Room service! You want me give you clean sheets?"

"No!" Duo yelled. "I want you leave me alone! I want sleep!"

Quatre knocked again, fighting to control his giggles. "Room service! You want me give you blowjob?"

Trowa made a choking sound as there was a startled "What?!" from inside the room. "What kind of house *is* this?!" There was a scuffling, then Duo threw open the door, a sheet wrapped around his waist. "Who--"

Quatre started laughing at the dumbfounded look on Duo's face. "Ohayo gozaimos, sunshine!" he chirped cheerfully, grinning. "Sleep well?"

Duo groaned again and sat on the floor with a thud. "*Quatre*!" he whined, "And I was having a wonderful dream, too! Sheesh, morning people. . ."

Quatre snickered. "Too bad. It's time to get up, Duo."

Duo wrapped himself in the blanket, only his unbound hair sticking out. "No."

"Oh, come one, Duo. Get up."

The sheet snorted. "Nuh-uh."

"Please?" Quatre smiled up at Trowa and rolled his eyes. Trowa smiled faintly.

Duo wriggled around until his head poked out. He glared at Quatre. "No."

"Pretty please?" Quatre nudged Duo with his toe.

Duo wiggled away from the offending foot. "Never!" He pulled the sheet over his head, which left his feet exposed.

Quatre hunched down and tickled the bottoms of Duo's feet. Duo shrieked and curled up in a ball.

"NO!"

"Pretty please with Heero naked on top?"

There was a pause, then Duo jerked the sheet down to his nose and eyed Quatre suspiciously. "Keep talking."

Quatre stood up. "Pretty please with Heero naked on top and feeding you all your favorite foods?"

Duo thought about this. "Okay, keep going."

Trowa spoke up. "Pretty please, with Heero walking down the hall in a towel, dripping wet?"

Duo sat up. "Really?"

Trowa nodded. Duo scrambled to his feet, only to fall back down because he was so entangled in the sheet. Trowa reached out and took Quatre's hand as Heero appeared in the doorway, hair plastered to his head and water droplets clinging to his smooth, bare skin. Duo took one look at him and fell over backward.

"Uhhhh. . . Instant lust attack. . ."

Trowa tugged at Quatre's hand. Quatre let himself be led out the door, chuckling.

"That was. . . amusing." He looked up at Trowa in time to see the other boy look quickly away and shrug. "Is something wrong?"

Trowa shook his head, taking his hand out of Quatre's. Quatre sighed inwardly.

"All right. Hungry?"

Trowa nodded once.

"Would you like anything specific?"

Trowa nodded again. "If it's not too much trouble. . ."

Quatre shook his head. "Anything. What would you like?"

The reply was barely above a whisper. "Strawberry pancakes?"

Quatre's smile widened. "Strawberry pancakes? Your wish," he stopped and bowed to Trowa, "Is my command." He opened the kitchen door and gestured for Trowa to precede him. "My lady, after you."

Trowa's mouth twitched. "As you wish, my lord." He dropped a quick curtsy.

Quatre chuckled. "And what a lovely lady you are, I must admit."

Trowa snorted lightly, bowed, and offered his hand to Quatre. Quatre took it and was twirled into the kitchen, laughing. The two servants preparing breakfast looked up at this odd entrance from their young master, then exited at a gesture. Quatre skipped to the cupboards and rummaged around in them, taking out all the ingredients he needed.

"Oi, I hope I'm doing this right," he commented as Trowa leaned against the counter and watched him. "I don't know how to cook, so it might come out bad." He blushed.

"I'm sure you'll do fine. Just follow the directions on the box."

Quatre blushed again and opened the refrigerator, looking for some milk. "Thank you. I'll try. Hmm. . . You're not lactose intolerant, are you?"

"No."

"Good." Quatre measured out the appropriate ingredients *very* carefully and mixed them together in a large bowl, glancing at the box a lot to make sure he was doing everything right. 'Strawberry pancakes. . . I'll have to remember that.'

"Thank you," Trowa murmured.

"For the pancakes?" 'I *really* hope I don't burn them.'

"And the story. I, I fell asleep during it, but I enjoyed the part I heard." Trowa leaned over Quatre's shoulder as he spoke, looking into the bowl. "Strawberries? And a little more milk." His lips were close to Quatre's ear.

Quatre smiled, both from the tone of Trowa's voice and how close he was, and shivered as Trowa's breath tickled his ear. "In the fridge. Would you get them out for me, please? And a knife from the drawer to the left of the sink." 'Well, it has directions for adding blueberries, and I suppose strawberries aren't much different. . .'

Trowa opened the fridge. "Where?"

"Down in the drawers at the bottom." Trowa bent from the waist to retrieve the fruit, and Quatre took a moment to enjoy the view. 'Oh, yum. He works out, I can tell.' Quatre licked his lips as Trowa stood, turning quickly back to the batter. 'And how he's not singing high soprano in *those* jeans, I'll *never* know. Not that I'm complaining, oh no, *far* from it. Hey, Winner, pay attention to what you're doing!' He added the suggested milk.

Trowa set the strawberries and knife down by Quatre and opened one box. He took out a strawberry and had it halfway to his mouth when Quatre turned his head and looked at him. Trowa paused, not meeting Quatre's eyes.

"Gomen." He started to put the strawberry back, and Quatre took it from him.

"Open."

"Nani?" Trowa raised an eyebrow.

Quatre put a finger on Trowa's lower lip and pressed down gently. 'Don't touch him too much, or you'll frighten him.' "Open."

Trowa slowly opened his mouth and Quatre slid the tip of the strawberry in.

'Oh, this is erotic.' "Bite." Trowa did as he was told gently, closing his eyes and sighing in contentment. 'He really *does* like strawberries.' He savored the flavor, chewing slowly, then opened his mouth again. Quatre fed him some more, and Trowa took a larger bite, lips closing over Quatre's fingers.

'Oh, my. Bad move.' Quatre's breath quickened as the feel of Trowa's soft lips on his fingertips sent electric shocks all the way to his toes, and when Trowa opened his eyes, knew that desire was apparent in his own. 'This is bad. Very bad. Let go, Trowa, let go.' Trowa didn't react immediately, merely looked curiously into Quatre's eyes, then touched the tip of his tongue gently to Quatre's fingertips. 'No, don't do that, silly boy. Don't you know how you make me feel?' Quatre trembled, fighting to control the urge to press against Trowa and kiss him, hold him, make him cry out in pleasure. 'These are bad thoughts, stop thinking them!' He went weak in the knees when Trowa bit down gently on his fingers and grabbed the countertop with his free hand for support. 'Oh, no, no, please don't stop, please let me go.' He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, struggling for breath, willing Trowa to let go, not trusting his voice, doing everything he could to just stand still and not seduce Trowa then and there. 'That would be bad, very very bad. Trowa, let go, please, please let me go, I can't make you, I'm not that strong, please!'

Trowa opened his mouth and stepped back, giving Quatre the chance to turn around sharply, facing the counter and panting as desire sang through every vein in his body.

"You want me," Trowa observed softly.

Quatre looked down and shook his head, laughing softly as he took deep breaths. "Yes, yes I do. I want you very, very much. You haunt my dreams, my waking hours, everything I do." He wiped at his face and sighed. "I'm sorry. You didn't need to hear that." 'Good move, good move. Freak him out, great.'

"You only want my body?" There was a bitterness in Trowa's voice that made Quatre's heart ache.

"No! Not at all! I want. . . Well, I *do* want your body, but I also want so much more." Quatre grabbed the knife and a handful of strawberries and started cutting them into neat section. 'That's good, keep busy. Just don't hack a finger off.' "I want to talk with you, go on moonlit walks, read to you, get to know you, *everything*. I want to be a part of your life. I want to be your friend, even if I'm never anything more." He dumped the strawberries into the batter and started cutting up more. "And I know you've been hurt before, and I know I should shut up, but I just can't sit by and do nothing when I see how much pain you're still in because of it, even if you hide it really well." Quatre stirred the batter with a single-minded intensity, then turned the oven on and got out a frying pan. He looked at the instructions and spread butter on it as he continued. "I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to; I don't want to lose whatever small amount of trust you have in me. I like you, Trowa, I really do."

Quatre poured the batter into the pan, careful to get the right amount in each pancake. "And I can't stand to see people who I consider friends in pain." Quatre got out two plates, glasses, and place mats, and some silverware, going out and setting them on the dining room table at opposite ends. He went back into the kitchen, to the stove, and picked up a spatula as he watched the slowly cooking pancakes, face red with shame. 'Stupid, stupid, stupid boy! Great job, Winner! Perfect!' Trowa walked out of the kitchen. 'Damn it!' A tear fell down Quatre's cheek and he sniffed, wiping at his eyes. 'You're an idiot, Winner. A real baka. Why don't you just rape him? It'd get you the same results.' Quatre flipped the pancakes over, tears blurring his vision. He didn't bother wiping them away. 'He's never going to talk to you ever again, much less trust you. Square negative three billion and one. Drawing board's broken, maid quit. Great Allah, you're stupid!' Quatre numbly cooked the whole batch of pancakes and piled them on a platter, the grabbed the milk and some syrup from the fridge and stalked into the dining room.

Where his jaw promptly hit the floor.

"I though this arrangement was better," Trowa said quietly, gesturing at the two places Quatre had laid out, now next to each other. He got up and took the platter from Quatre's numb hands and set it on the table. "But if you'd rather they be the other way---" He started to move a place and Quatre set the milk and syrup down quickly, grabbing Trowa's wrists.

"They're perfect where they are." Trowa looked down at his wrists, held captive by Quatre's hands, and tugged a little. Quatre immediately released him and held out a chair. "Please, sit." Trowa obeyed, watching the pancake-laden platter. Quatre placed four pancakes on Trowa's plate and set a dish of butter within reached. He served himself two pancakes and smeared butter on them, then poured syrup on the top. Trowa poured milk for them both. He and Trowa ate in silence for a few minutes before Trowa spoke up softly.

"You were crying."

Quatre nodded, wiping at his wet cheeks.

"Did you think I'd left?"

Another nod.

"I felt your pain. It made me sad." Both boys were staring at their plates.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It, it made me think. You care enough to do your best not to hurt or scare me, no matter what you really want to do to me." Trowa propped his head up in his hand, elbow resting on the table. "In the gardens, you wanted to take me, didn't you?"

'He talks as if he was a possession.' "Yes," Quatre whispered.

"And just now, in the kitchen, you wanted me. But on both occasions you didn't do anything. Why not?"

Quatre moved the last bit of pancake around on his plate as he thought over his answer. "Well, that would be wrong, to force myself on you or to do *anything* to you when you were helpless." 'Although you weren't helpless in the kitchen. . .' "You trusted me not to do anything to you, and I value that trust. I don't ever want to lose it." 'You knew what you were doing to me in the kitchen. . . do you want me, I wonder? Or do you just enjoy toying with me?'

"Even at the cost of your own happiness?"

Quatre looked at Trowa and smiled. "Trowa, as long as you're happy, I'm happy. Maybe not all that comfortable," Trowa smiled faintly, "But content. Just having sex with you isn't going to make me happy. I want a much deeper relationship than that; I want to be your friend, your confidante, the person you turn to when you need a shoulder too cry on or someone to rail at. You don't need to fall in love with me; I just don't want you to despise, or worse, fear me." Quatre blushed and put his hands to his cheeks. "Oh, I'm getting redundant. I'm sorry."

Trowa shook his head. "That's. . . new to me, and it means a lot. Thank you."

Shyly, Quatre felt under the table until he found Trowa's hand and held it. Trowa squeezed his hand gently and the two boys smiled at each other.

"Friends?" Quatre asked.

Trowa nodded once. "Friends."

YAH!! ::Dances:: I took the beginning right out of "Tommy Boy," I know, but I couldn't resist! The setting was perfect and I love that movie!

(((^^^^^Sailor Zoisite's ever-helpful end comments^^^^^)))