Work Header


Chapter Text

Pairings: Trowa/Quatre

Type: Yaoi, Humor

Rating: T+

Warnings: None


Mission Accepted.

"Helloooo. Hey, Tro. You listening to me?"


Duo dropped the explosive down the air shaft and turned to him. "I said, you might want to cover your ears unless you want to be totally deaf before the age of thirty." Duo's hands rose up to cover his own ears and Trowa, snapping out of his musings, did the same. The blast rocked the compound, shaking the walls. Dust rained down onto their heads and they coughed as they inhaled the particulates. Duo grinned. "Now, that's a wake up call," he quipped. 

At the end of the corridor, OZ soldiers ran by, weapons in hand, shouting, "We're under attack! Get to your stations!"

"Gee, you think?" Duo cocked his gun and graced Trowa with a lopsided smirk. "Are you finished mooning over Blondie?"

"I'm not mooning."

"Yeah, and I'm Relena Peacecraft. Shall we?"

"After you."

Duo grinned, Shinigami activated. He tore off down the corridor, screaming war cries at the top of his lungs. "Come get some of this shit, Ozzy scum!"

Trowa rolled his eyes and took off after him, pushing the images of blond hair and sparkling blue eyes out of his mind with more effort than it should have taken. This was quickly becoming a disturbing pattern...


Heero eyed him across the table that they used for debriefings and Trowa knew he was in for some shit. "You nearly compromised the mission."

"I'm sorry."

Heero leaned back in his chair, blue eyes gleaming. "May I ask why?" Though Trowa suspected he already knew.

"I was...preoccupied."

"With what?"

Trowa glanced up at him, not really wanting to answer that. "Personal matters."

Heero tapped the end of his stylus against the table top. The room was silent but for that and the slight whistle as Heero breathed steadily through his nose. "Do I need to go over the importance of not mixing professional and personal business...again?"

"No. No, I - it won't happen again."

Heero knew he understood. He nodded once and stood up. "I have no tolerance for liabilities. I do not have the time, or the desire to worry about whether, or not my soldiers are too busy worrying about their personal lives when they should be focusing on the mission."

"I know. I apologize for that. It will not happen again."

"See that it doesn't. Dismissed."

Trowa stood, blushing despite himself, and headed towards the door.


He turned back and waited.

"I'm not usually one to take Duo's advice, but in this case, I agree with him. You need to get laid."

Trowa coughed. "Excuse me?"

Heero's dark brows were drawn low over razor sharp eyes. "Did I stutter?"

" I'll uh - I'll keep that in mind." He left quickly, face flushed with heat. Did Heero Yuy, Mr. Perfect Soldier just tell him he needed to get laid? What the hell kind of worm hole did he step through to end up in this strange and frightening universe? 

Then again, it was sound advice and his groin gave a twitch, almost as if it was saying, He's got a point. He pivoted on his heel and headed down towards the barracks, purpose in every step. He stopped in front of one of the doors and rang the buzzer. The door slid open, revealing the cheerful face of the one who'd been occupying his mind, not to mention fucking up his ability to focus on his job.

"Trowa, hi. What's up?"

Trowa stepped inside and pressed the button, closing the door behind him. Quatre's eyes widened.

"Is everything alright?"

Instead of answering, Trowa lunged forward and scooped the little blond up into his arms, kissing him hard and thorough. He lifted his head and gazed into pleasantly surprised eyes.

"I have a new mission."

"What do you have to do?"


Chapter Text

Pairings: Trowa/Quatre

Type: Yaoi, Humor

Rating: T+

Warnings: None


Dressed To Kill

Sniper Red, are we good to go?

Sniper Red, good to go.

Sniper Blue, are we good to go?

Sniper Blue, good to go.

Sniper Green, are we good to go?

"Sniper Green, good to go. Watch for the decoy."

Roger that.

The sound of gunshots echoed throughout the mansion and Trowa cursed. "Cancel that. Decoy's been compromised. I'm going in."

Sniper Green, you will remain in your position, do you copy? You will remain in your position. That's an order!

Good luck getting him to listen. He's gone rogue.

Trowa scaled the building, weapon at the ready. The gunshots had ceased. He crept up the stairs and silently inched his way inside, ears straining for any sounds, something that might indicate a sign of life. His body thrummed with adrenaline, desperate to find the decoy and make sure he was safe, hindsight making him kick himself for deciding to go along with this travesty of a plan.

The sting involved the taking down of a prostitution ring that was snatching young men off the street and turning them into sex slaves. Quatre was selected to infiltrate and act as a decoy to "entertain" the criminals while the response team surrounded the premises. Something went wrong and now Trowa was desperate to find his love and make sure he was okay.

There was an odd tapping sound to his left and Trowa followed it, sliding along the wall. He jumped through the doorway, instantly dropping his weapon in utter shock. The criminals were scattered around the room, bleeding from multiple gunshot wounds. In the center stood Quatre, in full costume, foot tapping impatiently. The flames from the fireplace reflected off the shiny black Lycra like the tongue of a serpent. The smooth, sensual curves of his body invoked the eyes to stare and the hands to touch, but there was only one man allowed to lay his hands upon the flesh of sinful temptation.

Quatre glanced over at him with calm eyes and blew the smoking muzzle of his gun with lips as iniquitous as Satan himself. 

"What took you so long?"

Chapter Text

Pairings: Heero/Duo, Trowa/Quatre

Type: Humor

Rating: T+

Warnings: Post mortem/undead Duo and Quatre, inspired by one of my favorite films, Death Becomes Her


The Beauty of Death

"It means literally what it says, man. The Beauty of Death. I am Death. It's the beauty of me."

"God, Duo. Can you be any more conceited? You are not Death. You are human. We are both beautiful and we are both dead."

"I'm dead because you stuck a pick ax through my neck, you blond twit."

"You had it coming. Do you not see this hole in my chest? You put that there. With a curtain rod, I might add."

Duo smirked. "Yeah, that was a good one."

Quatre rolled his eyes. "You're such an ass."

"But I'm a beautiful ass."

"Keep telling yourself that."

"You know, I'm of half a mind to put another hole in you."

"Bring it on." The blond picked up a poker from the rack next to the fireplace and practiced his swing. "I'll knock your head clean off and hang it by your braid from the banister."

Duo's eyes were huge. "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me."

"Alright. This isn't going to get us anywhere. Why don't you just agree that I'm right and we'll call it even."

Quatre set the tip of the poker on the floor and leaned on it with one hand. "You really want to be a talking head?"

"Bah. Heero will stitch it back on for me, won't you, Hee-chan?"

Heero was sitting on a nearby couch, sharing a bowl of popcorn with Trowa. "Don't bring me into this."

Duo pouted. "Some supportive boyfriend you are."

Heero relented. "Okay, how about this. Quatre, if you knock Duo's head off, it'll be your responsibility to stitch it back on."

The blond grimaced. ""

"Well, then you can't decapitate him."

"Trowa -"

"Sorry, babe. You knock it, you stitch it."

Quatre threw the poker down, sulking, and glared when Duo stuck his tongue out.

"That goes for you, too, Duo."

"Damn. Okay, but can you please settle this once and for all? What does The Beauty of Death mean?"

"Like I said. Don't involved me in this. Trowa?"

Trowa shrugged. "I really don't care." He stuck a piece of popcorn into his mouth and smiled. "I'm just enjoying the show."


Chapter Text

Pairings: None

Type: Tragedy, apocalypse

Rating: T+

Warnings: End of the world.




The colonies were in an uproar. Emergency disaster protocols were put into effect, Martial Law initiated. Someone had triggered Operation Meteor. Colony L4 3991 was sent on a collision course with Earth. It was an extinction level event. The impact struck with the force of ninety megatons of TNT, causing a crater that was three thousand miles in diameter. It boiled away lakes and oceans and caused the Earth's crust to crack, triggering massive quakes and volcanic eruptions.

The entire planet was now completely covered with smoke and ash with occasional explosions disrupting the thick clouds. The remaining colonies probed the atmosphere and beneath, looking for any signs of life, but it was a fruitless endeavor. What the blast and subsequent quakes didn't kill, the toxic gas and ash would suffocate any remaining forms of life. All reports led back to the same conclusion.

No survivors.

Every living thing on the planet was either incinerated, crushed from the shifting plates of the Earth's surface, or were snuffed out by the poisoned atmosphere. Even plant life had been destroyed.

The Earth was uninhabitable. 

Soon, the demand for who was responsible spread like wildfire from one colony to the next. Heads were going to roll. And roll they did. The head of the ESUN security committee and staunch supporter of the scrapped military project had pressed the button. He was executed, publicly, via a televised event. 

"This is our fault," said Quatre, who sat at the conference table with his head in his hands.

"Quat, it's not our fault." Duo tried to reassure him, though he was having doubts himself.

"How is it not? We were a part of that -"

"We were against that!"

Heero sat in the corner and for the first time in his life, fidgeted. He drummed his fingers on his knee in agitation, staring off into space. He was in shock. They all were. "The information was too easily accessible. We should have destroyed it."

"It was classified above Top Secret!"

Wufei spoke up. "And even then, it was accessed. Yuy's right. The documents should have been destroyed." He turned and punched the metal wall, leaving a sizable dent. "Stupid!"

Duo leaned his head back, eyes blinking back tears. "Too late to do anything about it now. The worst has already happened."


Two years later...

The five of them set down on the surface of the cold, barren wasteland that was once a planet full of life and thriving civilization. The atmosphere had cleared some, but was still toxic with residual gas. They stepped out of the craft, in full protective spacesuits and looked around, taking in the still smoking remnants of New York City.

Quatre bent down and grabbed a handful of dirt, sifting through it with his finger. "The soil's still radioactive. It's still too early to terraform."

"It'll take a few more years for that. But we can begin rebuilding," said Heero.

Duo kicked away what looked the remains of a car bumper. It broke apart instantly, collapsing into a pile of dust. He gazed up through the hazy sky at the sun, still dim through the thick, soupy air. "How does one rebuild a planet?"

"One day at a time. It's the best we can do."

"You guys realize we're the first people to step foot here since the fallout."

Heero nodded, "Yeah. So let's make it count."


Chapter Text

Pairings: Heero/Relena, Duo/Hilde, Trowa/Quatre

Type: Tragedy

Rating: T+

Warnings: Major character death (but they die peacefully of old age)



No one could say the Gundam pilots hadn't lived a full life. It was enriched with experience, wisdom, adventure, strife, and even love. Still, that didn't make their deaths any easier to take. 

No one could be sure why it happened the way it did, but when one went down, the rest followed. One after the other in the span of a week. 

Wufei had been fine the day before. Still a stickler for fitness, eating healthy, and routine meditation, he was still teaching his classes at the ripe old age of eighty three. The following morning, he dropped like a ton of bricks, dead before he hit the ground. The autopsy revealed sudden kidney failure as the culprit.

They hadn't even begun planning the funeral when the following night, Quatre died in his sleep. It was sudden cardiac death. His heart simply just stopped. Relena got the teary call from his partner and lover, Trowa. 

Duo had come down with the flu the following day and by the next morning, he was also gone. Hilde had been heartbroken, Duo Jr. solemn as he informed her that her ex-husband had passed.

Two days later, Trowa dropped while at the funeral parlor. Some said it was from a broken heart. Katherine and her husband, Trowa Phobos, took over the funeral planning for both of them. 

Heero lasted another two days, but he was off during that time, distant. Relena thought it was because of the grief. Maybe it was, but she later suspected that her husband somehow knew his own death was coming. She'd felt it, too, though neither of them spoke of it. She brought him tea as he sat silently in the library looking through an old photo book. Pictures of the pilots together in their youth, as successful middle aged men, of their families, their children and grandchildren. He was unusually quiet and she didn't push him to talk about it. She just fixed him his tea, made him sandwiches, and rubbed his shoulders, all the while, her heart screamed that something was terribly wrong. 

She believed Heero knew his time had come and he'd accepted it. He was tired. Just so damn tired. He'd lived his life and he'd made a wonderful one. Now, it was time to make room for the next generation.

She found him later in the afternoon slumped over in his favorite chair, the photo book open on his lap, his hand laid over one of the pictures. She lifted it and saw that it was a photo of all the pilots together at the end of the Eve Wars. They were only seventeen, with a full life still ahead of them. Relena had taken the photo herself, had to pull teeth to get Heero and Wufei to pose for it. 

Smoothing her husband's hair back, she leaned down and kissed his head. She blinked back tears as she whispered, "Go to them. They're waiting for you. I won't be too far behind, but it's not my time yet. I'll see you again someday, but for now, I must look after our family. Be at peace now, darling. I love you."

She went to bed that night with his wedding ring tucked in her palm. She didn't weep. There was no need to. She would see him again soon, her own life coming to a close. But, for now, she had their children and grandchildren to think about and she had to be strong for them.

She'd always known the pilots had some sort of special connection. Something she was never truly able to comprehend. And she didn't really try. It was something precious and it was something that didn't involve her. Even when they'd gone their separate ways to live their own lives, they always seemed to know when one was in distress. Looking back on it, it wasn't surprising that with one death, the effect upon all of them would ricochet, bouncing from one pilot to the next. 

In that sense, there was a beauty in how they died. Quick, painless, and together. The unusual, but felicitous phenomenon was almost poetic, melodious in nature. It simply couldn't have, wouldn't have happened any other way.

Chapter Text

Pairings: Heero/Relena, Trowa/Quatre, Duo/Wufei

Type: Fantasy, humor

Rating: T+

Warnings: It's dumb. I'm sorry. 

  Not Another Fairy Tale!

Once upon a time, there was a magical land called Sanq. It was a richly beautiful woodland place full of castles and faeries, goblins and trolls, wise old wizards, and evil sorceresses. Valiant knights battled fire-breathing dragons, rescued princesses from their towers, asked for their hands in marriage, and lived happily ever after.

Oh, wait. Wrong story.

Okay, here we go. It was a typical night in Sanq and deep within a moss-laden burrow, four young faerie warriors were lounging around drinking magical faerie ale and smoking from the enchanted pipe.

One faerie, a spritely one who went by the name of Duo, propped his pointed shoe'd feet on his lover's lap as he inhaled the sweet vapors of the mystic ganja. He leaned his head back on the puffy cushions of the sofa and closed his eyes. "Now, this is the life. Zechs wasn't kidding when he said he got the good stuff." He blew a smoke ring into Wufei's face. 

Wufei's wings fluttered and he coughed as he reached for the pipe. "You're such a pothead."

Duo snorted and poked a toe into Wufei's belly. "But you love me."

Another faerie, named Trowa, was seated across the room with his blond lover who was reclining against him. "You going to share that?"

"No," said Duo.

Wufei shoved Duo's feet off his lap, the bells on his toes tinkling as they dropped to the floor, and leaned forward to hand Trowa the pipe. 

"Why is the cave full of butterflies?" asked the small blond who was named Quatre.

Duo snickered as Trowa leaned down and kissed the top of the faerie's head. "There are no butterflies in here, love."

"There are, though," the blond insisted. "There and there and there..." he pointed from one empty spot in the room to another.

"Quat, you are high as a kite." said Duo, laughing.

"M'not high...what's a kite?"

"It's a diamond shaped object that you tie a string to and fly through the air," Trowa explained.

"Ooh! I want a kite!"

"Maybe we can make one, okay?"

The faerie warriors' leader, a fierce and intense faerie named Heero, stuck his head through the opening of the cave. "Oh for Venus' sake. Are you guys stoned?"

"No," they all said defensively.

Heero's brows lowered over his eyes. "You are. And you need to sober up. We've got a mission."

A collective groan sounded throughout the room. Duo gazed at Heero with bleary eyes as he took another toke from the pipe. "Lemme guess. Relena's been kidnapped."

Heero had the gall to look surprised. "How did you know?"

"Because she gets kidnapped at least once a week! How does someone get kidnapped that much?"

"Heero! Do you see the butterflies?"

"Butterfl - what?" Heero glanced up at Trowa who shook his head and made a gesture that said, Ignore him. He's high.

He turned back to Duo. "She gets kidnapped because she's a princess and this is a fairy tale and that's what happens in fairy tales. I don't make the rules, Duo. Okay?"

"Sheesh. Okay."

"Now, sober up. We've got work to do."

The tipsy faeries got up reluctantly, struggling into their armor with dizzy heads and unsteady feet. Wufei grumbled as he clasped Duo's armor closed in the back, with some difficulty. "You need to lay off that troll cake."

"Hey! Be nice," Duo pouted. "That troll cake is good, okay?"

"If you didn't smoke so much, you wouldn't get the munchies, you wouldn't crave the troll cake, and I wouldn't be having a hard time getting your armor on."

Duo shrugged and picked up a tiny iced cake from a plate on the table. "My armor must have shrunk in the wash. S'not my fault the trolls are good at baking."

Wufei snorted, "Yeah, and so are you." He slapped the cake out of Duo's hand and gave his lover a stern look. Duo turned purple puppy eyes on him. "And don't look at me like that. I'm not making you another set. No more cakes for a while."

"But Fei..."

"No buts." He picked up the plate, stashing the cakes in a cabinet. He locked it with a padlock and turned to get his own armor on. 

Duo smirked. His lover could be dense sometimes. He patted his head where a set of lock picks was located in his long braid along with a myriad of other things that defied the laws of physics. 

Heero stuck his head back in. "Let's go! The princess is not going to rescue herself."

They all slunk to the door and stepped out, grumbling under their breath. 

"I was having such a nice relaxing evening," said Duo.

"I hate fairy tales," muttered Wufei.

"Why can't we fly there?" asked Quatre.

"Because, love. Our wings aren't built for that."

Quatre shot Trowa a perplexed look. "Then what are they built for?"

Trowa shrugged. "They're aesthetic. It's for the fangirls."


"Never mind."

So, the five young faerie warriors rescued the princess from the evil wizard, Treize...again. They were dirty and bloody and tired as they flopped down onto the thick grass and watched Heero smile as he swept Relena up into his arms and asked her to marry him. She pressed the back of her hand against her forehead in a dramatic fashion and said, "I don't father..."

"Oh, for Jupiter's sake, enough already! Just say "yes". Queens never get kidnapped," Wufei barked and the other three nodded in agreement, eyes desperate. 

"Well then...yes. Yes, I will marry you!" They kissed passionately and Duo closed his eyes in relief.

"Thank the gods that's over."


Chapter Text

Pairings: Heero/Duo, Trowa/Quatre, Treize/Zechs, Zechs/Wufei, Treize/Gundam Pilots

Type: Dark, Angst, Drama, Yaoi, Death

Rating: M

Warnings: Very dark, Slavery, Bondage, Voyuerism, Graphic Violence, Non-Graphic Noncon








1) a mass, or a collection of things, an assemblage 


His most resplendent collection by far. He'd always been quite the connoisseur for rare and beautiful things, but the idea to collect people was his newest stroke of genius. When the Gundam pilots, such extraordinary and breathtaking specimens, works of art they were, were initially going to be executed for war crimes when the colonies lost the final battle, Treize immediately placed a stay and put in a public bid for ownership of the prisoners of war. The only thing more beautiful than the Gundam pilots, was the Gundam pilots in chains.

And they were all his. Such unique and exquisite creatures, anomalies of the human race in strength, agility, endurance, intelligence, and loveliness. Each held their own exclusive allure. An allure that stoked the fires deep within Treize's core. 

Oh, but they fought him. They fought him tooth and nail and he reveled in the struggle. They kicked and punched, clawed and bit, and he'd walked away numerous times covered in bruises, scratches, and teeth marks. 

After all, it wasn't easy to tame that which was wild. Teaching creatures that had once been free and so delightfully savage to submit was not an easy task. But, that was just part of the fun in Treize's opinion.

Zechs was furious. Of course he was. The man had a conscience, something Treize never had much use for. But he was too beautiful to let go and he was obedient, despite instigating dozens of arguments about the atrocity of owning human beings. That Treize should just execute them, that they would prefer that over slavery was just bewildering to him. To end the lives of such exquisite creatures, a crime in itself. 

They all had their own individual features and temperaments that Treize found fascinating and loved to explore them, pushing his pets to their limits. They had their own names, designated by him and he thought them quite fitting.

Pilot 01 he loved to call his Perfect Soldier. For that was what he'd been and though he was wild, almost feral in the beginning, his long-standing years of training eventually kicked in. Finely tuned soldier instincts taking over for the sake of self-preservation. To live to fight another day. He followed Treize's orders like a good little sycophant, whether it was to kneel at Treize's feet, or spread his legs. It didn't take as long as he'd anticipated, but the breaking of him was a sight to behold. The strong, wiry body that could bend steel, going lax with submission beneath his own was like being one with the Divine.

Pilot 02 was a feisty little devil, even more feral than Treize's Perfect Soldier. He'd already had his own alter ego when Treize gained possession of him and Treize let him keep it. It was the least he could do. So the boy thought he was the God of Death, so he became Treize's God of Death. It hadn't been easy to overpower him and it had taken hours upon hours of training to break him of his nasty biting habit, but by the stars, did he look beautiful laid out on Treize's auberjean silk sheets, hair spread out beneath him like a cascading waterfall of chestnuts.

Pilot 03 nearly broke his neck a few times. He never said a word, and he could hide like a ninja, taking Treize by surprise by silently leaping out from the dark shadows of his chambers and jumping on his back, deft hands twisting his head almost clean off. His Silencer was magnificent in every way. His physique was celestial and the beauty of those green eyes as Treize watched him break was almost regretful. Almost.

Pilot 04 took him by surprise. Not only because he was the only son of the prominent Winner family, but also because he didn't look capable of throwing a punch, let alone piloting a Gundam. He was proven delightfully wrong when he'd pinned the lovely boy down, only to have a few of his teeth knocked loose by a headbutt that made his head spin for hours afterwords. He spat out the blood that collected in his mouth and devoured the struggling blond beneath him. His Desert Rose was breathtaking and barbed with thorns that could pierce a man's heart. 

Pilot 05 was his most fiery treasure of all. Like a powerful Dragon, spitting rage and fire and brimstone, cursing him to every level of Hell and back. His golden skin was bewitching when his muscles flexed beneath it as he squirmed and hissed, raking jagged nails down Treize's chest. The black silk curtain of his hair spilled about his shoulders like a demonic halo and his black eyes gleamed with the promise of endless painful deaths. When his burning spirit broke, dying down to mere embers, it was a tragedy that Treize savored. 

He not only made love to them, but he enjoyed watching them make love to each other. Watching them weep as they were forced into acts they didn't wish to do made his black heart sing with bliss. He watched them come together in comfort, an unbreakable unit of love. To see his Perfect Solder's head bob in his God of Death's lap, or to see his Silencer's hips thrust between the thighs of his Desert Rose, his Lightening Count press into his Dragon from behind, made him feel Godly, coming home to his Kingdom of Glory.

They'd been thoroughly broken. They were his perfect, obedient little toys as they lounged at his feet, their skin shimmering in the candlelight beneath the gleam of their jeweled collars. They no longer needed chains as his pets learned their places, sitting demurely on their silken cushions with their legs curled beneath them as he fed them scraps from the dinner table with his fingers. They no longer needed guidance as they learned what to do and how to do it. 

It left Treize feeling melancholic, empty. The fight in their eyes, in their bodies, faded as they took him inside them with fluttering eyelids and sighs of pleasure. He hated to admit it, but he missed the battles. The struggle. He'd taken monsters and turned them into obedient dogs and God help him, he longed for those monsters. He'd done what he'd set out to do and was consumed by regret. 

It wasn't until several months later when he'd walked into his chambers after a long day, looking forward to some much-needed downtime with his pets and discovered Zechs lying on the floor, a pool of blood beneath his head, that he realized he'd been played for a fool. A moment later, a strike to the head brought him to his knees, then another dropped him to the floor, his jaw striking the cold marble and snapping instantly. He dizzily rolled to his side and gazed up at his boys, his harem, as they stood over him, and he saw the fire. The fire in their eyes that he thought he'd doused, burning hotter than ever, and ready for his blood. 

As he watched his Perfect Soldier raise the marble bust of his own likeness, he couldn't help the small curl of his lips as he tried to smile around his broken jaw. He gurgled a laugh through the blood in his throat, coughed, and rasped, "There you are. I was afraid I'd broken you."

His Desert Rose leaned forward, his eyes like a tropical ocean on a hot summer day, gleamed with the light and the fight he'd never actually lost. "No one can break us. Not even you."

He smiled around his bloody teeth and the last thing he saw as his Perfect Soldier brought the statue down on his head were his beautiful, ferocious pets looking down at him as he thought, No, they aren't more beautiful in chains. Their beauty comes from being wild and free. 

The bust collided with his face, breaking delicate bones on impact and ending the thoughts of the mind contained within, only a final fleeting notion lingered before it disappeared forever.

Justice has been served.

Chapter Text

Pairings: Une/Treize (one-sided), Treize/Zechs

Type: Drama, Angst, Introspective, Death, Het, Yaoi

Rating: M

Warnings: None





They called her icy. Frigid. Little did they know, she wasn't the frozen one.

Oh, he was warm. He could be very warm when he wanted something from her. Namely to carry out some whim, or another. He knew she idolized him. He knew she was deeply in love with him and he used that to his advantage. He knew how to work her body and get her craving for more. A kiss to her hand, one that would move to her cheek, down her throat to the top of her breasts that peeked out from the gap in her blouse, savoring the hitch of breath that it evoked.

He would make love to her with exquisite gentleness, burring soft vowels into the space between her legs as he kissed her most intimate places. Pulling a swollen nipple into his mouth as he drove himself inside her, making her cry out in ecstasy. Cry out in love. Love that was so painful, yet she was so helpless to put a stop to it as he rolled over and feigned sleep, leaving her to clean the remnants of his passion off her skin. Done with her until the next time he needed her to do his bidding.

He never kissed her mouth. Not even once. No, he reserved that for someone else. Someone just as icy as he. In that, the two bastards deserved each other. She caught them making love once when she'd gone to his chambers to deliver her reports. She peeked through the crack in the door, heart breaking as she watched the man she'd promised her life to, her soul to, thrusting between the powerful thighs of his general. Those lips she'd dreamed would caress her own, connected to the other man's, kissing him with an ardor she'd never seen him direct towards her.

The cracks and fissures that her heart suffered that night froze with tiny crystals of icy, hateful resentment. That the man she'd devoted her life to could just give his love to another, someone who could never love him like she could, consumed her with an abhorrence unlike anything she'd ever felt before. It filled the nooks and crannies of her body like frozen diamonds, harder than Gundanium, coating her bones in glaciers of loathing.

And while her body, heart, and mind seemed encased in ice, the one she loved was made from it. Built from the most frigid layers of Hell right down to his mitochondria. Unlike her, he'd never been warm. Callous, cold, uncaring but for that sniveling sycophant who was only waiting for his moment to stab the man she loved in the back.

It was a precious kind of irony that things turned out the way they did. While her love had indeed been stabbed, it hadn't been by the one she'd believed would do it. Rather, it had been a child instead. She stepped towards the coffin and laid one single red rose across the ebony top and brushed a finger along the side.

"You could have had it all, you fool. But you were too blind to see. Too blinded by your own arrogance to understand. Now, I am free. Free of you, my love." She leaned down until her face hovered over his cold, embalmed one. "May you rot for all eternity. Wherever you are." She pressed her lips against his, shivering with revulsion at the chilled, clay-like texture of his mouth. "You owed me that," she whispered. 

She turned and walked away, never once looking back.

Chapter Text

Pairings: Heero/Duo, Trowa/Quatre

Type: Humor, Yaoi

Rating: T+

Warnings: None




Hot To Trot

"Woo! Now that's a nice booty!" Duo whistled as a young, meaty construction worker walked by, metal beams resting on one shoulder. He shot the two boys who were seated on the brick ledge an odd look and continued on his way.

"Yeah, I'd like to buy him a coffee!"

Duo sideyed his friend, but said nothing. Another sexy piece passed by them and he wagged his tongue. "Hey baby, where you goin'? Don't you want some of this?" He lifted his hips off the ledge. "Yeah, I got more where that came from."

"You're hotter than a cup of Earl Grey!"

Duo sighed. "Seriously, dude?"


Another tall drink of water walked by and Duo turned around on the ledge, presenting his ass. "How'd you like a piece of this, baby?"

"Hey, maybe we can go get a glass of lemonade sometime. Would you like that?"

Duo turned back around and sat down on the ledge. "Honestly, Quat. You suck at this."

"Wh - no, I don't!"

Two boys walked by, their shirts off, their sweaty, toned torsos streaked with dirt. Duo smirked.

"Hey, sweet things. Need a ride? I got one right here."

They paused in front of the grinning boys. Heero placed his hands on his hips. "What the hell are you two doing?"

They shot him twin looks of adorable confusion. "Whaddya mean?"

"Why are you cat-calling the other workers?"

Quatre cocked his head cutely. "We're construction workers. Isn't that what they do?"

Trowa snickered and reached for his boyfriend. "Only in the movies, love. Come on down from there." Quatre pouted but jumped down into Trowa's arms.

Heero offered his hand to Duo. "You, too. Stop terrorizing the workers."

"But, we were having fun!"

"No more fun for you. Back to work."

The two ex-pilots grumbled as they trudged back to their stations. Duo shot Quatre a lopsided smirk. "You still suck at that."

"I do not!"

Chapter Text

Pairings: Trowa/Heero/Quatre

Type: Yaoi, Threesome

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Double penetration, Slight bondage, Overstimulation, Rimming, Anal fingering, Super horny!Quat, Good Lord what is wrong with me?





The darkness of the bedroom was only broken by a few scattered candles, burned down to near stubs. The flames jumped and wobbled as they were caught in the gentle current of the desert breeze that drifted in through the open window. The heat of the day finally dwindling down to the gentle warmth of night.

The sweat on Quatre's skin cooled as it dried in the tepid air. He'd gotten quite the workout having taken one lover, then the other inside him and his body was pleasantly sore with a satisfying ache that lingered between his legs. The sensations left him giddy with a touch of arousal glowing deep in his belly despite having climaxed twice. He stretched between his two slumbering lovers, feeling incredibly sexy and languid as his limbs brushed against their heated skin. He felt safe, secure, and so deeply loved, nestled in their powerful arms. Arms that could snap bones and twist metal, but here, now, wound intricately around him with gentle devotion.

They'd stripped him bare and laid him out on the large bed, worshipping his body with calloused hands and hungry mouths. Pinning his arms above his head and holding his legs up and open, they thoroughly ravished and devoured him with lips, teeth, and tongue. The vulnerability left him flushed and panting, surrender in every breath, in every buzzing nerve ending. He slurred, "Take me," from between quivering lips and leaped from the precipice into his first orgasm.

He was lifted, shaking and weak, as if he weighed nothing, and gently placed on top of Heero with his legs draped down either side of his lover's waist. He moaned helplessly as he was penetrated, his body enveloping Heero's erection. The smooth sensual roll of his hips touched places within Quatre that he never knew was possible. And while he drooled on his lover's chest, consumed by pleasure, Trowa had slid his own length inside next to Heero's. 

The fluid movements of his lovers as he was propelled back and forth between them left him dizzy and high, rocking him with the gentle waves of their thrusts. The slight tickle of Trowa's kisses on the knobs of his spine seared burning impressions into his fevered skin as he choked and keened his way to the point of no return. It took several minutes longer for his lovers to join him at the height of ecstasy and his overstimulated body, trapped between them, writhed and undulated and shook. His prostate was battered by the dueling cocks, legs involuntarily trying to close. His thighs were clasped in powerful hands and wrenched open as his lovers sought their orgasms, digging deep inside him. They panted and growled in his ears, their teeth closing around the skin of his neck and shoulder. Tears leaked from between long lashes, eyes crossing beneath fluttering eyelids as his oversensitized body was taken to new levels of sensation. With rumbling shouts, his lovers reached their peaks and bathed his insides with the evidence of their passion. 

He collapsed, boneless, on top of Heero, legs released from their bruising grip and they fell to his lover's sides, body shivering and trembling with sweet aftershocks. Trowa kissed the damp skin of his back, moving down to the dip at the bottom and skimming over the swell of his buttocks. Quatre yelped as his lover delved his tongue into the stretched and sore opening and he moaned into Heero's mouth when his lips were captured in a deep, dirty kiss. His ass twitched and convulsed, the erotic licking becoming too much and he broke the kiss, whimpering, "No more. Please, no more". 

He felt Trowa's smirk against the slick, sensitive skin between his legs and he delivered one final, sloppy kiss to the tender entrance before pulling away. Quatre immediately missed the warmth against his back, but was quickly scooped up into strong arms and brought down to the bed where he was folded into their protective embrace. Trowa curled up around him from behind, burying his face in damp blond curls. Quatre smiled as Heero leaned forward to press his lips against his damp forehead, fingers tenderly stroking his hip. It wasn't long before his two lovers drifted off to a peaceful, dreamless sleep. 

He was rather spent himself, but his body was still too tingly, mind still worked up, to sleep quite yet. It wasn't often that they both took him at the same time, but when it happened, it left him wrecked in the best way possible. The sensual feelings of onus and complete surrender lingered for hours, sometimes days afterwards, leaving him in a perpetual glowing state, and also incredibly insatiable. Even now, despite being fucked into oblivion and thoroughly exhausted, his body thrummed with desire for more. These private times, in the quiet presence of his lovers, where no one else could see or hear, was the only time he let his guard down. When alone with the two of them, the commander, the representative, fell away and he became a liquid mess of submission, allowing his dominant lovers to mold him however they wished. 

And they knew, as they always did, even in the deep recesses of sleep, that they had gotten him even more riled up. Without opening his eyes, Heero reached down and grasped a creamy thigh, drawing it up over his own hip and Quatre's breath hitched as Trowa's fingers snaked down between his legs and pressed into his opening. He whimpered as his overused entrance was penetrated again, but was far too horny to tell them to stop. He rolled his hips back onto the probing fingers, moaning softly, fucking himself towards another orgasm. His cock twitched, only a little come dribbling out and he panted into Heero's chest, riding the waves, pushing his ass against the fingers to prolong the pleasure.

Finally spent for the night, his body flushed with a soft burn as Trowa pulled his fingers out. He was sated until morning when he would beg for another thorough fucking. But, for now, he was content to sleep and he snuggled into their arms as Heero smirked affectionately against his forehead. 

"Naughty little minx."


Chapter Text

Pairings: Duo/Wufei

Type: Angst, Tragedy, Death, Yaoi

Rating: M

Warnings: Major Character Death



 Blackbird Song



Wufei always lamented blackbirds. He'd said as much as they lounged in bed, naked, on a warm, summer afternoon after they made love. The loud birds were nesting in the big tree outside the bedroom window and their high-pitched screeching drifted in, disrupting Wufei's lazy snooze. 

Duo had laughed heartily and asked him why.

"They're dirty, nasty, mean, and loud."

Duo didn't tell him that he'd often thought the blackbirds reminded him of his temperamental lover. Sleek, black, elegant, and ruthless. Full of righteous indignation. If he believed in reincarnation like his lover did, he would have thought Wufei would make a perfect blackbird. As such, though, he didn't want to insult him and wind up spending the afternoon in a heated argument. He rolled over on top of his lover and kissed his bitching silent, moaning as those skillful, calloused hands tangled into his hair and pulled. 

That week, Duo had spent much of his time lounging on a folding patio chair, laughing his ass off at Wufei's attempts to scare the birds away. He tried throwing things at them, tried shooting at them. He'd gone for his grenade pack when Duo decided it was time to redirect his attention to something more productive and less destructive. 

"C'mon, babe. Let's not blow up the neighborhood, k?" 

"Look at that! They just come right back! Arrogant little -"

Duo's kissed him and pushed him into the lounge chair, climbing up onto his lap and grinding his ass against Wufei's groin. The birds were instantly forgotten as Wufei wrapped his arms around his love and pressed his hips up into the sweet friction. 

Sunday morning came and Duo walked into the bedroom to see Wufei hanging out the window, swinging a broom at the tree and hitting the branches with the handle. "Get on out of here. Come on! Out with you! Get outta my tree!"

Duo chuckled and set the breakfast and coffee tray on the dresser. He stalked up behind his lover and grabbed him from behind. "Gotcha!"

Wufei cursed and nearly fell out the window. Duo pulled him back in and dutifully listened to him give a stern lecture on how he'd be unable to do his missions with a broken leg. "Relax, babe. I wouldn't let you fall. Come on. I've got breakfast waiting. I made your favorite." He waggled his eyebrows at his exasperated lover. 

They ate their breakfast in the bed, listening to the blackbirds screech outside and Duo could feel Wufei's stress levels increasing. "Babe, you gotta relax! You are getting too worked up over those damn birds."

He sighed. "I know. They're just so annoying. I want my peace and quiet."

"Here, lay down."

Wufei lowered himself to the bed as Duo maneuvered him onto his stomach. He swiped a bottle of lotion on the night table and sat astride his lover's ass, squeezing a dollop of the lotion onto the beautiful back and rubbed it into the golden skin. He dug his fingers deep into tense muscles and listened to Wufei moan as he went liquid beneath Duo's adept hands. 

"That better?"

"Much better. Oh, yeah. right there." Duo pressed his knuckles into the spot just behind a prominent shoulder blade and then smoothed his hands up to the taut shoulders, then down to the small dip in his back. He dug his thumbs into the adorable dimples at the base of his lover's spine and then leaned over him, nipping at the ridges of his backbone. Wufei murmured his approval and shifted in pleasure. 

"Let me flip over."

Duo lifted up to let him turn and then he started in on the firm muscles of his chest. He gave Wufei a saucy wink and said, "Got anything else you need me to massage?"

Wufei pretended to think about it. "Hmmm...there might be one thing..."

Duo leaned down and swiped his tongue across Wufei's lips. "It'll cost ya."

"Whatever the price, I'll pay it," he groaned.

Smirking, Duo shimmied down and grasped the waist band of his lover's sleep pants, yanking them to his knees. He bent over to huff a soft, moist breath against the turgid flesh of Wufei's groin. Wufei shivered in pleasure as Duo licked along his length.

"Don't tease me, you beautiful bastard."

"Well, since you asked so nicely." He opened his mouth and swallowed him down, Wufei's shout drowning out the sound of the blackbirds. 

Two weeks later, Wufei got a mission. Duo sipped his coffee as he watched his lover get ready to leave.

"Where is it?"


"That's quite a distance."

"Well, you know how it is. You were in Hong Kong two months ago."

"Yeah, well. I like it there. Nice place."

Wufei shot him a smirk, tugged his lover's long braid, and pulled him in for a kiss. "I'll be back soon."

"Be careful. I love you."

"Love you, too."

He didn't come back. Duo got the call from Heero four days later. Killed when the enemy caught him sneaking out of the illegal bomb factory and open fired on him. Duo didn't hear much besides, "He didn't make it, Duo," said with Heero's somber voice. The roar in his ears overpowered everything else and he dropped to his knees in shock on the kitchen floor. He knew what they did was dangerous. That there was always a risk of getting caught, or worse. But it didn't matter that he knew what the risks were. All he could think about was the fact that he'd lost someone else he loved dearly.

"It's all my's all my fault..."

"Duo, it's not your fault. It's no one's fault but the people who killed him -"

"No! Don't you see? Everyone I ever love dies! That's why I can't love. I was so stupid. So stupid to think I could have a chance and I killed him, Heero. I killed him!"

Heero tried his best to reassure him that he had not killed Wufei. That he deserved love just as much as anyone else. But Duo was inconsolable. He simply wouldn't listen. The other pilots tried to comfort him. They stayed with him, held him when he broke down, listened when he ranted and raved. Sat silently when he needed to be left alone. He'd spent a few weeks in a state of near-catatonia and Quatre had taken to forcing food and water into him just to keep him alive. Heero and Trowa bathed and dressed him to keep him clean. It wasn't until they were so worried that they thought about checking him into a hospital that he finally snapped out of it. 

"I'm okay...I'm okay. I don't need a hospital. I just need...I just need time."

And they gave it to him. He recovered though it took time, space, and unconditional love and support from his friends. It still hurt terribly, but he was able to get through the day without falling apart. Sometimes. Still, it was a vast improvement.

The following spring, he stepped out into the backyard to the tree where the blackbirds had nested to find them gone, though a baby had been left behind. Its tiny body, just barely covered in feathers, hopped around on the grass fluttering wings that just would not take flight. 

"Hey there, little guy. You having trouble?" He bent down and caught the tiny creature in his hands and held it up to eye level. The little bird peeped at him as if in reply. Duo chuckled. "Seems like we're both floundering, aren't we?" The bird peeped at him again. "Two peas in a pod, I'd say. Well, I don't know much about birds, but I will try to help you if I can. I've got a nice warm place inside and at least you'll be out of the cold. I'll set you up real nice and give you some food, how's that sound?" Peep, peep. "Okay, I'll take that as a 'yes' then." 

He walked into the house and set the bird down on a dish towel. "I gotta find out what you guys eat. I hope it's not worms, because yuck!" The bird peeped. "Well, if that's what you like, then I guess I have no choice. I'll find you the biggest, juiciest worms I can find. Sound good?" Peep. "Okay, it's a deal." He watched as the little guy hopped around on the table. "Hey, if we're going to get acquainted, I gotta give you a name. How 'bout Wufei?" Peep, peep

He smiled, "Wufei it is, then. Nice to meet you. I'm Duo."


Chapter Text

Pairings: Heero/Quatre, Implied Trowa/Quatre, Implied Heero/Relena

Type: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Yaoi

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Anal sex, Anal fingering 






Quatre had been able to let go of his guilt and grief long enough to play with the dogs along the coast of Sanq and even Heero was able to smile at the pure, innocent joy on his comrade's face, the sweet sound of his laughter as the pups chased him into the ocean waves, soaking his khaki trousers up to his waist. He hadn't known the boy for long, but Heero had already associated him with a cheerful smile and sunny personality. To see that disappear broke his heart in ways that he had trouble coming to terms with. 

Of course, he had good reason. Their fellow pilot was missing and presumed dead and it was because of the blond boy's actions. Heero didn't delve too much into the reasons why Quatre had snapped the way he had, but he knew it must have been something terrible. He was living with his own guilt. He'd threatened the boy's life, but when push came to shove, he realized he couldn't do it. He'd never had difficulty taking a life before, but it was different with Quatre, much the way it had been with Relena.

Relena. He missed her terribly. He'd broken the most important rule of his training for her. He allowed her to see his face and he let her live. He'd kicked himself afterwords and made a personal promise he would do it the next time. The next time came and he still couldn't do it. He thought he was losing his touch, needed a booster shot of his training sessions. He wasn't supposed to care. It wasn't in the job description. 

But he did. Despite everything, he did care. Relena and Quatre, and even the other pilots were special to him in ways he didn't fully understand. He couldn't hurt them. As he watched Quatre drop beneath the waves, his heart lurched in his chest and he jumped up, ready to rescue him. He breathed a sigh of relief when the boy popped back up, soaked to the bone and laughing in delight. He glanced over at Heero, the stick he'd been using to play fetch with the dogs held in a triumphant hand. He was grinning from ear to ear and Heero couldn't stave off the warm surge of affection mixed with something else. Something he'd only been familiar with when in the presence of Relena. He shifted in the sand as he watched Quatre throw the stick again and run after the dogs, having a little difficulty now that his clothes were wet.

He suspected something was going on between Quatre and their missing comrade. His instincts were usually spot on and he had no doubt that they'd been harboring more than platonic feelings for each other. He wondered how far those feelings went. Had the two of them been intimate? He simply didn't know, but if he had to wager a guess, he was fairly certain they had been at one point.

Quatre finally tired and he sent the dogs back to their owners and waded back up to where Heero was seated near the small tent they'd set up. He stood over him, out of breath, smiling warmly. His blond hair dripped down onto his shoulders and his clothing clung to his skin in a way that made Heero's body flush with heat.

The boy threw his arms out to his sides. "I'm soaked!" 

Heero chuckled. "I can see that. There's a change of clothes in my bag. You can borrow them until yours are dry." He tried to ignore the rush of arousal at the prospect of Quatre wearing his clothes and his heart warmed as the boy smiled at him.

"Thank you. You're a lifesaver." He disappeared into the tent to change and Heero watched the last of the sunlight dip below the horizon, trying not to think about the fact that Quatre was naked and wet inside the tent. 

He emerged a few minutes later in Heero's sweat pants and t-shirt. They were a little loose on him, Heero noticed. He'd towel-dried his hair and it hung about his face in tousled waves. He looked adorably rumpled. So different from the meticulous way he usually looked and Heero found himself irrevocably charmed. He watched him hang his wet clothes on the tent cords where the sea breeze could dry them. 

"They're going to be salty."

Quatre huffed out a laugh. "They are salty. Unfortunately, I don't have any laundry soap, though."

"It's alright. We'll get them properly washed soon."

"Yeah." Quatre's melancholy was back and Heero's chest squeezed in sympathy. 

"Come on. It's getting late and you're tired." He got up, brushed the sand from his shorts and ducked into the tent. Quatre obediently followed him and the two settled down in their respective sleeping bags.

They were very close together due to the cramped space of the small tent, but they made it work. It was quiet for a long time and Heero thought Quatre had already fallen asleep. He was surprised when the boy's soft voice broke through the hypnotic sound of roaring waves.


"What is it?"

"Do you believe in God?"

"Never met him." After a pause, he said, "Why? Do you?"

"I used to. My family practices Islam so I was raised with the whole concept of Allah and Mohammad and the Qu'ran. I just -"

"You don't believe anymore."

"I - I want to, but after everything I've seen. Everything...everything I've done. I...just don't see how - I mean I can't connect what I was raised to believe with what I see in reality."

"That's called 'critical thinking', Quatre."

He could almost see the blond's wry smirk. "Yeah, I think I'm familiar with that." 

It was quiet for a few minutes, then Heero said, "You have to forgive yourself."

He was answered by a choked sob. "I can't!"

"You can and you will. You have to. Trowa would."

"How can you say that? How - what reason would he have to -"

"Because he loves you."

Quatre broke down then and without even thinking about it, Heero reached over and wrapped his arm around the despondent boy. Quatre squirmed closer and buried his face in his chest. Heero stroked the still-damp hair, letting him unleash his grief, his shame. It took a good several minutes for him to cry himself out. He sniffled through a stuffy nose and apologized, backing away. Heero didn't let him go, only pulled him closer. They couldn't see each other, but they could feel how close their faces were. Heero used his thumb to stroke a soft cheek, swiping the tears away. Quatre's breath was gentle and sweet against his face. 

He could sense that Quatre knew what he was thinking, feeling. The odd, almost psychic connection they had driving their instincts to a place of mutual understanding. Nothing more needed to be said. Everything was already laid bare between them. He closed the small gap and took the blond's lips in a heated kiss and Quatre immediately kissed back, whimpering when their mouths opened and slick tongues slid together. 

It was the first time Heero had kissed anyone, but with Quatre, he somehow knew what he was doing, knew what the boy wanted. He unzipped their sleeping bags and rolled over on top of him, savoring the soft sigh he emitted as his weight settled on the blond's chest. Quatre opened his legs and Heero's hips nestled between them. Their groins rubbed together and Heero moaned from the incredible friction.

They kissed deeply, tongues reaching as far into the other's mouth as they could get and then Heero pulled away to suck at the salty sweet skin of Quatre's neck, down into the loose collar of his shirt. The blond threw his head back, opening his throat up to Heero's lips. His hands gripped the hem of Heero's tank top and pulled the fabric up over his back. Heero lifted up to yank the shirt off and dove back down to attach his mouth to the irresistible flesh. He croaked out a groan as Quatre's fingers smoothed along his back, teasing beneath the waistband of his shorts and he ground his erection down into the juncture between the blond's groin and thigh. 

His own hands wandered, skimming up under Quatre's shirt, reveling in the feel of silky skin. His thumb grazed over a taut nipple and Quatre's breath caught as Heero bit down on his collar bone. He tugged on Heero's shorts as best he could, indicating that he wanted them off and Heero obliged, rising up to pull them off. Quatre used the moment to push the sweatpants over his own hips and he kicked them off with his feet, opening his legs again as Heero settled back on top of him. 

"Have you done this before?"

Quatre whispered a 'yes' against his ear and that was enough for Heero. He stuck his fingers into his mouth, slicking them up, then he guided them down between the blond's thighs, seeking the tiny opening. He found it and pressed in, listening carefully for any signs of distress in Quatre's breathing. He fingered him just enough to loosen the opening and spread the saliva around, getting him ready for penetration. Quatre spat into his own hand and snaked it down between them, wrapping Heero's cock with warm wetness and he shuddered from the electric sensations that shot though his body. 

After a moment, Quatre was squirming beneath him, the muscles of his ass undulating around his fingers and he pulled them out, replacing them with his cock. He pressed in slowly, going steady until his balls rested against the blond's ass and then he waited for the signal to move.

Quatre's hips rolled and he rasped, "Move. I'm ready. Please." Heero hooked the boy's legs over his arms, leaned up, and began fucking him. He huffed and groaned at the near-painful velvety heat as it squeezed him, pulling him back in time and again. Quatre panted and mewled, his fingers digging into Heero's biceps as his hips rolled up to meet the thrusts. Heero instinctively knew where the blond's prostate was located and aimed for it with every upstroke. Before long, Quatre's back arched and he moaned long and low. Heero felt the hot splash on his chest and belly and he drove in harder, chasing his own climax. The contractions of the blond's inner muscles brought him to the edge quickly and he stiffened, hips flush with Quatre's, pressing in hard as he unleashed his orgasm inside the boy. 

They came down together with panting breaths and slowing hearts. He laid between Quatre's legs as his cock softened and slipped out, too tired to move just yet. The soft stroke of Quatre's fingers along his back was soothing, comforting and he rested his head on the blond's chest, listening to the heart beat beneath the skin, suddenly so glad he hadn't taken this precious soul. Grateful that the heart still pumped the life-giving blood. 

Quatre's hand carded through his hair and Heero breathed in the sweet scent of the boy's skin as he said, "You would have been justified, but I'm glad you didn't either."

Heero smiled against his chest, somehow not surprised that Quatre had known what he was thinking.

Chapter Text

Pairings: Duo/Wufei, Heero/Trowa/Quatre

Type: Alternate Universe, Yaoi, Kind of Cracky...Okay, Very Cracky

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Uhhh...let's see. Threesome, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Spit-Roasting, Smoking, Underage Drinking, OOCness, Clichés Like Whoa



 Biker Lovin'


"Do you have your calculus notes on you?"

Wufei shot the blond boy seated next to him on the bleachers a derisive look. "Don't I always?" He dug them out of his folder and handed them over. "Where are yours?"

"I had student council stuff to work on during class," said Quatre. He set the notes beside him and copied them into a battered notebook. "Did you study for your history quiz?"

Wufei looked offended. "What am I? Twelve? Of course I did!"

"Okay, okay. No need to get snippy."

The black haired boy took a drink from his Dr. Pepper and gazed across the football field. "God, I hate it here."

"I thought you loved school."

"Not the school, the town," he snapped. "There's nothing here. It's a wasteland of Bible-thumping, middle class America. Nothing to do for fun except go hang out at the soda shoppe."

Quatre smirked. "We could try drag racing."

Wufei snorted, "We'd need cars first."

"Oh, quit being such a Debbie Downer and watch the hunky football players as they get all sweaty and dirty."

"That's the other problem."

"What is?"

"The guys here suck. Nothing but a bunch of brainless buffoons."

Quatre chuckled. "But they're nice to look at."

He sighed. "What are we doing with our lives, Quat?"

"We're getting good grades so we can go to a good college and get the hell out of dodge."

"That's right. Thanks for the reminder." Wufei watched Tommy Timmons, the school's all-star quarterback, trip and fumble the ball. He snickered. "Dumb ass."

The sound of roaring engines echoed off the brick walls of the school building and Quatre and Wufei turned to see three Harley Davidsons roll up to the curb behind the fence at the edge of the field, slowing to a halt.

Quatre cursed under his breath. "Uh oh. Trouble." He quickly gathered his homework and stuffed it into his bag in case they needed to skin out in a hurry. 

Wufei sneered at the three guys that climbed off their bikes, laughing about something they couldn't hear. Probably at the two dorks doing their homework on the bleachers. He noticed the football players had paused their practice and were watching the three roughnecks like hawks. Wufei smelled blood in the air and he looped the strap of his bag over his shoulder. "Let's get out of here."

"Good idea." Quatre grabbed his stuff and they climbed down the bleachers. Unfortunately, the way they had to go to leave would bring them right up alongside the hoodlums who were standing at the fence drinking beer and smoking cigarettes. He groaned, not really feeling like being roughed up today. "Here goes nothing."

The walked along the fence, trying to stay as far away from it as possible, avoiding any and all eye contact with the bikers. Wufei could feel their eyes on them and he chanced a glance up to see them keeping pace. Wonderful. He picked up his stride and the boy that walked alongside him increased his. He glanced over again and took note of vividly violet eyes. Long hair tied in a braid hung down his back and swished from side to side against his leather jacket as he walked. A hand reached out and trailed along the fence, making it jingle. The boy grinned, staring at Wufei like a pot luck supper. Wufei's head jerked forward when he heard a yelp and spotted Quatre stopped where the fence ended and the fields began. One of the boys stood in front of him while the other was behind him. Wufei watched the taller one raise his hand and brush back a lock of his friend's blond hair.

"Hey! Get your hands off him." Forgetting himself and who he was dealing with, he rushed forward in defense of his friend. He may not have been able to take them on, but he was still a great deal stronger than the blond, not that Quatre didn't have any fight in him either. He watched as Quatre swatted the hand away and backed up into the other boy, not realizing he was there. He was grabbed from behind and turned as Wufei caught up to them.

The shorter boy held Quatre against his chest and said, "Or what?" Eyes, deep blue, and intensely violent gazed at him with an easy, blasé expression that rankled Wufei's nerves. He took note of the fingers gripped hard around Quatre's arms. He glanced at the blond and saw that his eyes were huge, pupils dilated in fear. Probably certain he was going to get beat up. Wufei was certain they both were. 

The taller one stepped closer, moving in between him and Quatre. When he spoke, his voice was soft, but with an edge that told Wufei he'd be limping home if he interfered. "No worries, big guy. We're just having a little fun. I see you have your own admirer." He nodded his head and Wufei turned, jumping at the proximity of the boy who'd been flanking him along the fence.

"Look, we don't want any trouble okay? We just want to go home."

There was a flash of white as the braided boy grinned at him. "Oh, you'll go home. When we say you can."

He caught Quatre's eyes over the taller guy's shoulder and they seemed to say, Maybe if we do what they want, they won't hurt us. 

He looked over into eyes that were inhumanly purple and beautiful and he hated himself for even noticing. "What do you want from us?"

Purple Eyes shrugged. "Whatever we feel like taking." He grabbed Wufei's arm. Wufei yanked it back, but the click of a switchblade stopped his backwards movement. "Now, now. You have a choice here. You can make this easy on yourselves, or you can make it hard. Either way is find with us." He stepped closer and the heady scent of beer and tobacco wafted across Wufei's nose. Strangely, it wasn't repugnant like he thought it would be. It was heady, making his body flush with the prospect of something different. Something dangerous and he cursed his restless spirit for taking interest.

He allowed himself to be pulled along, behind the fence and over to the boy's bike, watching his friend closely to make sure he wasn't being hurt. Quatre was guided along by the taller guy and literally lifted onto the bike before the taller boy climbed on behind him. Quatre shot him a helpless look as the guy wrapped him in strong arms and started his bike up with a loud roar. Wufei gave him the most reassuring smile he could muster, despite not feeling very reassured himself. Purple Eyes hopped on his own bike and fixed Wufei with a firm look. "Get on." His tone left no room for argument. Wufei cursed and swung his leg over, wrapping his arms around the boy's waist. 

He was absolutely sure at that point that their nude bodies would be found stabbed to death in a field somewhere by morning. The bike started up and he held on for dear life as it spun in a slow circle, kicking dirt out from beneath the tires, and then it sped off into the sunset along with the other two bikes. He only hoped their deaths wouldn't be too painful.



Well, he was nude alright, but far from dead. They'd been taken to an old barn that was apparently used as a hangout of sorts. There were beer cans and cigarette butts as well as a number of other things he didn't care to name, strewn about on the dirt floor. When they arrived, Purple Eyes, who actually went by the name of Duo, climbed off the bike, spun around, then climbed back on and immediately latched his mouth onto Wufei's neck. Wufei froze, dread seeping into his bones, and he thought, This is it. Quat and I are going to make headlines in the newspaper and not in a good way.

But Duo whispered in his ear, making sure to tongue the words in. "We're not rapists. I will fuck you, but you'll be begging for it by the time I do."

Wufei didn't believe him at first. But now, as he laid on his back on a wool blanket inside the barn with his legs open wide and thrown over the hoodlum's shoulders, he had to admit he'd done just that. He flushed with embarrassment at how easy he apparently was. It hadn't taken long. And it was one hundred percent consensual. His back arched on a moan when a particular thrust struck him in just the right place and his head lolled to the side, staring through half-lidded eyes across the barn to see how his friend was faring. 

If he was easy, Quatre was doubly so. He was on his knees, ass in the air, between the other two boys who he'd learned were called Trowa and Heero. The taller one, Trowa, plunged into Quatre from behind, fingers clutching pale hips as he slammed into the blond. Quatre's head bobbed in Heero's lap and if there was any question of consent, it would have been answered by the enthusiastic way he sucked down the dark-haired boy's cock and rolled his hips back to meet the thrusts of the one fucking him. 

A calloused hand wrapped around Wufei's erection and his attention was turned back to his own lover who squeezed and tugged him, bringing him closer to climax. With each thrust, the waves got higher and higher and his eyes rolled back into his head as his cock spurted onto this chest and belly. Duo growled above him as he watched Wufei get wrecked by his orgasm and pushed deeper into him, hips slapping harshly against his ass. He came with a loud groan and dropped onto Wufei's chest, panting, sweat dripping from his forehead onto Wufei's face. 

Wufei turned his head and watched as Heero climaxed, hips twitching up against Quatre's face, fingers clenching handfuls of blond curls. He sat back, sated, and Trowa tipped back onto his knees, bringing Quatre up into his lap. He held the blond against his chest as he bounced him up and down and Quatre moaned like a porn star as he came all over himself. Trowa released a moment later, growling, teeth sinking into the boy's neck.

Wufei gave a start as Duo snored in his ear and he pushed at the boy's shoulders, huffing at the dead weight on his chest. "Get off me." Duo's head lifted with a snort and he looked around bleary-eyed, confused for a moment. He glanced down at Wufei and smiled. "Oh...hi."

"Get off!

Duo smirked. "I thought I did, but if you say so..." His head lowered and he kissed Wufei's neck. He pushed at him again.

"No, get off me!"

"Okay, okay. Sheesh." Duo climbed off him and Wufei sucked in a lungful of sweet oxygen. He glanced over at Quatre to find him nestled in the arms of his two lovers, purring like a kitten. 

"Errr...we really have to get home." 

Quatre sat up quickly, in a sudden panic. "Oh, shit! What time is it? Where are my clothes?" He squirmed out of his lovers' grasps. "My dad is going to kill me." He grabbed his clothes and stood up, hopping on one foot as he struggled to get the other one into his pants. Heero and Trowa stared at him like he was the most precious thing alive.

"No worries, baby. We'll get you home. If you get in trouble, we'll take care of your dad for you," said Trowa. 

Quatre smiled at him as he worked his shirt over his head. "That's sweet, but I don't think that'll be necessary. Though I think I'll probably be grounded for the next month."

Heero pulled the blond into his arms. "Not from us, you won't be. We'll see you whenever we want." Quatre blushed as the dark-haired boy buried his face in his neck, strong hands reaching down to squeeze his ass. 

True to their word, the 'hoodlums' drove them home, dropping them off in front of their respective houses. Wufei climbed off Duo's bike and shuffled awkwardly on his feet. "Well...I guess I should thank you."

Duo's eyes twinkled beneath the streetlights. "You guess?"

Wufei glanced away. "Will I see you again, or was I just a one-off?" 

Fingers, chilled from the wind, grasped his chin and turned his head back. Duo leaned forward and captured his lips in a kiss so sensual, it made his toes curl. "I'm not going anywhere, baby. You can bet on that."

Wufei couldn't have stopped grinning if his life depended on it. Duo started up the bike and with a final wink, was off down the road, the choppy motor fading into the distance. Wufei sighed, blissed out, and he most certainly did not skip up the walkway to his house.

Okay, maybe he did. A little. 

Chapter Text

Pairings: Imaginary!Duo/Heero

Type: Yaoi, Humor, Crack

Rating: M

Warnings: Stupidity?






"Mmm..." Heero shifted his legs beneath the covers, the sensual feeling of the soft cotton feeding his dreaming mind lovely images of smooth limbs sliding against his own. His hand sleepily extended outward and stroked the pillow beside him, though to him, it wasn't a pillow. It was imaginary locks of chestnut hair, long and silky, cascading over his arms and he hummed and smiled in his sleep as purple eyes gazed at him with a hunger that made his heart race.


His hand snaked out from under the blankets and fumbled around on the night table for the alarm clock. He tapped it blindly a few times, mumbling, "No, Doctor J...jus' five more minutes..." The cursed beeping finally stopped and he pulled his hand back under the covers, groggy brain drifting off again. 

His dream lover smiled at him, calloused fingers caressing his face as their bodies slid together. Their lips joined in a mind-bending kiss and Heero pressed his face into his pillow, moaning appreciatively. 


He reached out and tapped the clock a little harder this time and huffed as it finally quieted down. " uppy. Still dreamy."

He felt the warm weight of dream Duo on his back, feeling his lover's hard erection slip between his thighs and he opened his legs, grinding his dick into the mattress. "Yeah...Duo...jus' like that..." He humped the bed leisurely, hips moving in slow circles as his dream lover pressed against him, beautiful lips kissing his shoulder blade.

* - wham!*

He grinned and snuggled back under his covers as Duo ground his cock between the cheeks of his ass and his hips jutted against the bedding, breath coming faster. "Duo...mmm...fu' me."

Is that what you want, baby? His dream lover asked, tongue slipping along the shell of his ear.

"Yesss...s'what I want. Want you so bad," he slurred, drooling on the pillow.


Heero sat up and shot the alarm clock a murderous glare. He reached down and yanked the plug out of the wall. Smiling, he slunk back under the covers, nuzzling the pillows. "Now, where were we?"

You were begging me to fuck your tight little ass.

"Oh, dat's right. You gonna give it to me?"

You bet, baby. My big, hard cock is going to take you places you've never been before.

Heero nearly wept with arousal and he ground his erection down into the bed. "Give it to me, baby. I need it."


He cursed. He'd forgotten about the alarm's battery back up. He swiped his sidearm out from under the pillow, sat up, took aim, "Omae o korosu," and emptied the clip into the innocently beeping clock. He smirked at the smoking remnants, tossed the gun over his shoulder and scrunched back down under the covers. "Ninmu kanryou."

Chapter Text

Pairings: Trowa/Quatre

Type: Humor, Yaoi, Crack

Rating: M

Warnings: None





Quatre maneuvered himself through the criss-crossing security laser beams looking like he was engaged in some sort of interpretive dance. His partner-in-crime, Duo, was up in the air shaft securing the bungee cord he'd used to help lower Quatre down to the main floor. He tied it around a steel beam and glanced down to see how his partner was doing. Quatre was only a few feet away from their prize now. An eleventh century Samurai sword encrusted with rubies and emeralds that was used by their client's ancestor during the Song Dynasty.

Emperor Chang Wufei had summoned the two world-renowned thieves and told them that his prized heirloom had been stolen by the neighboring ruler, Trowa Barton. The sword now stood in the central most region of the Russian lord's mansion, guarded by state-of-the-art booby traps and armed guards. 

Quatre chuckled as he stepped over the unconscious body of one of the guards and shook his head. It had been a cinch to disable them. A dropped bottle of ether had done the trick. It was almost too easy. He reached the platform, breathing steadily through his gas mask as he reached nimble fingers in between the tight grid of electric beams, careful not to singe his hand. Okay, almost there. His hand closed around the steel sheath. Just a little more and we're home free - shit! 

The floor opened up and the pedestal descended down through the trap door as alarms went off at ear-piercing decibels. 

"Ah, shit!" He grabbed the sword before it could disappear beneath the floor, cringing at the painful volume of the alarms. Damn, that was loud! He glanced up at Duo who had his eyes squeezed shut and his hands over his ears. "What are you waiting for? Pull me up, you idiot!" 

Duo couldn't even hear him over the shrieking sound and Quatre began to panic as a few of the guards started to come around. Luckily, they were too distracted by the alarms to do much of anything, curling up on the floor, clutching their heads. Quatre hollered at the top of his lungs and Duo finally opened his eyes. 

"Pull me up!"

Duo got the picture and yanked on the rope. Quatre held on to the sword for dear life as his feet finally lifted off the floor. He was halfway through the vent when more guards showed up and his kicking legs nearly took a few bullets. Duo grabbed them and helped Quatre swing them up into the shaft. Quatre looped the sword's sheath strap over his back and together they crawled through the ventilation system, narrowly dodging bullets as they pierced through the steel panels. Duo shouted in pain as he was grazed in the leg, curling up around himself. 

"Oh no you don't!" Quatre grabbed his arms, pulling him along. He glanced back long enough to see the wound was bleeding profusely and he cursed. He'd have to take care of that as soon as possible. Unfortunately, there was no safe place to go but up and he dragged Duo along behind him as they made their way through the maze of ducts until they reached the roof. Quatre popped the vent open and climbed out, then reached in for Duo. He quickly checked over the wound. Nothing life-threatening, but it was a bleeder. He tore off his sleeve and tied it around the injury, pulling tight to staunch the flow. Duo yelped at the sudden pressure.

"Goddamn, I knew we should have retired."

Quatre scoffed, "Oh, bullshit. I was kidding when I said that and you wouldn't retire from this if your life depended on it."

"Well, it's depending on it and I'm rethinking my life choices."

"Don't be such a baby. It's only a flesh wound."

"Says the one who wasn't shot."

Quatre tried not to roll his eyes. "Okay, we've gotta find a way down from here. You got the rope?"

Duo shot him an uneasy smile. "Eh-heh. Yeah. About that..."

"Damn it, Duo!"

"Sorry! We were in a hurry. I didn't have time to untie it."

Quatre crawled over to the edge and peeked over, stomach plummeting at the cliff-side drop. "Well, we're not going down this way." He glanced over at Duo. "Can you walk?"

Duo tested his weight on his injured leg. "Uh, I think so - ouch! Okay, this might be a problem."

"Well, you're going to have to try because I'm not carrying you." He helped Duo up and wrapped his arm around his waist, looping the wounded man's arm over his shoulder. "Good?"

"Ah...yeah, I think so."

"Good. There's a big tree over there. The branches are close enough to the roof that I think we can use it to climb down. You up to it?"

"Aw, damn, Quat. I don't know if I can." He sighed. "Go on without me. Save yourself!"

"Don't be such a drama queen. Jesus." Quatre dragged him over to the tree and glanced down. The ground below was clear. Where the hell did everybody go? This was definitely too easy. "Okay, I'm going to help you climb over. Just...sit down on the tree limb as soon as you can. You can shimmy down from there."

"Got it."

Quatre helped ease him over. Duo grabbed the branch above his head and tested the give of the tree limb with his good leg. He slowly slid his foot across the branch, then pulled his injured leg over and clung to the tree like a spider monkey. Quatre snickered.

"Hey! No laughing from the peanut gallery."

Quatre climbed over next, watching Duo closely to make sure he didn't lose his balance. "Steady now. Take it slow."

"Gee, like I didn't know that."

"Don't be a smart ass."

They inched their way down the tree, keeping a close eye out for any guards. Still, there were none. The whole place was ominously silent and Quatre cursed under his breath. Something was very wrong here. 

Halfway down, Duo slipped, but Quatre grabbed his arm, his own shoulder nearly dislocating in the process. He held on tight and waited for Duo to get his footing back. Close to the bottom, Quatre told him to stop. "Let me get down first and I'll help you. I don't want you jumping on that leg."

"You're a good friend."

"Damn right I am," Quatre muttered, jumping down from the lowest branch. He adjusted the sword on his back as he glanced around. Still nothing. He shrugged and reached up, grasping Duo's legs as he slid off the branch and carefully lowered him to the ground.

He'd just gotten Duo's arm around his shoulder again when a gruff voice behind them barked, "Halt!"




Quatre pulled at the chains around his wrists as he lamented his career choice. What a load of dragon dung. He sighed and dropped his head back onto the headrest of the chair he was chained to and waited to see what would happen next. A snore next to him made him turn his head sharply.

"Duo! Wake up!"

"Hnnn - wha?" He blinked over at Quatre. "Whazzit?"

Quatre shook his head and looked straight ahead. Maybe it was time to retire.

The door opened and the two straightened up as a tall, regal-looking man with brown hair and broad shoulders walked in. He said nothing as he grabbed a chair identical to the ones they were sitting on and sat down across from them. Quatre's breath hitched as a pair of striking green eyes landed on him, gazing at him with an intensity that made him shift uncomfortably. His silence was unnerving. To both of them apparently because Duo cleared his throat.

"Yeah, uh...hi. Yeah, we're just going to take that sword back that you stole from Emperor Chang and be on our way. If, you know, that's alright."

Quatre rolled his eyes as the Russian lord raised an elegant brow. "That I stole?"

Duo looked at him like he was a few tools short of a full shed. "Yeaaahhhh...?"

Lord Barton leaned back in his chair and crossed delightfully long legs. Quatre bit his lip as his eyes were drawn to them. Goddamn, but he's fine, he thought. Then he kicked himself because now was not the time. Barton's eyes shifted to Duo, then back to Quatre and Quatre couldn't help but picture himself lying naked and ravished beneath this beautiful overlord. He bit his tongue and looked away, trying to think unsexy thoughts.

"That sword has been in my family for centuries. It was stolen from me. I simply took it back."

The two thieves glanced at each other. Well, this was a new development. 

"But - Emperor Chang -"

"Is lying."

Duo fixed him with a dubious look, "How do we know you're not lying?"

Instead of answering, Lord Barton simply pointed to a large portrait that sat over a stone fireplace. It was an old painting, from the Common Era from the looks of it. An aristocrat that looked ironically similar to Lord Barton sat upon a golden chair and in his hands was the exact same sword. 

Lord Barton drummed long, tapered fingers on his knee. "So, you see. It is mine. It's always been mine."

Duo glanced at Quatre, then back at Barton. "Ohhhhh...well. I feel sheepish. How 'bout you, Quat?"

But Quatre was speechless, breathless at the look Barton was giving him. He nodded dumbly. 

"Well!" Duo tried to throw his hands up, but couldn't because of the chains. He dropped them back onto his lap. "I can see this has all been one giant misunderstanding. So, how's about you undo these chains and we'll be on our way."


They both gaped.

"Excuse me?" said Quatre.

"I said, no."

"But, it was a mistake!" Duo argued. "We didn't know it was yours. We were sent by Emperor Chang to retrieve it. We thought you stole it from him."

Barton's eyes were eerily calm, his voice soft, but commanding when he spoke. "You still broke into my compound and took something that didn't belong to you. There must be a price to be paid for that."

Quatre blinked at him. "What do you want?"

Barton got up from his chair and walked around behind him, then bent down until his mouth rested against his ear. "I'll let your friend go if you agree to warm my bed for a year."

Quatre choked and Duo protested loudly. "No fucking way! I'm not going anywhere without him. He is not a sex slave!"

"Duo -"

"And furthermore, what the hell kind of century are you living in? This ain't the dark ages, man. You can't just -"

"Duo -"

" - kind of barbaric, cyclops, sociopathic sicko are you -"



"It's okay."

Duo looked at him like he'd grown horns. "What do you mean 'it's okay'?"

Quatre shot him a firm look. "It's fine." He leaned his head back, looking upside down at Barton. "I'll do it. Just let him go."


"Quiet, Duo."

Barton stared down at him and Quatre shivered with arousal at the dark gleam in those green eyes. Fleeting visions of painful pleasure and white hot ecstasy assaulted his mind and he almost embarrassed himself by moaning. He bit down on his tongue and smiled over at Duo.

"It's really okay. I'll be fine."

"What makes you so sure?" Lord Barton asked. 

Quatre turned a heady, lust-filled gaze on him and smirked. Yes, it was definitely time for a different career path. "I just know." 

Duo groaned, exasperated. "Oh, Jesus. Can I go now? Fei's making Kung Pow Chicken and I really don't want to be here when you two start going at it."

Chapter Text

Pairings: Heero/Relena

Type: Angst, Drama, Tragedy

Rating: M

Warnings: Very Dark, Death, Zombie Apocalypse, Violence, A Little Gore

Notes: Written for ClaraxBarton's photo fic prompt.




Last Man Standing


fic prompt



Heero had tried so hard. So damn hard to get back to her in time. He’d been in space, trying to keep the communication satellites going and the Earth Sphere’s power grid up and running despite no longer having the personnel, much less the functioning organizations and levels of government to sustain it.

He’d sent half his crew home to be with their families as civilization continued to crumble, power structures breaking down all over the world. The power grid was weakening, blackouts occurring everywhere. By the time he got one sector up and running, three more would fail.

The virus that swept through humankind was unlike anything anyone had ever seen before. When the infected died, they would revive hours later and attack the living, tearing them apart piece by piece and consuming the flesh like ravenous animals. Infection spread through bodily fluids; saliva, blood, mucus membranes. Something as simple as a bite was enough to bring about boiling fevers, severe vomiting, and convulsions. Once infected, the mortality rate was one hundred percent.

There was no cure, no vaccine, not even treatment and the only thing that seemed to bring them down was severe brain trauma. 

Of course, Heero had heard all the rumors. When it first began, the internet chatter was rampant, sometimes bordering on ridiculous. Everyone, from the most reputable scientists in virology, to the top theologians, experts on conspiracy theories, right down to the layman keyboard warriors weighed in on the phenomenon. The notion that this was a biological weapon developed by the world’s governments was the leading theory, followed by doomsday prophets that “God” had finally had enough of humanity’s sinful ways.

The one Heero had been most drawn to was the concept that the Earth had simply decided it was time for a cleansing. Humans had had their shot and it was time to recycle and start again. There was a certain kind of poetic justice when he thought of it that way.

It wasn’t long before he was the only one left and his attempts to keep things going were in vain. He used the communications satellite to keep in contact with Relena, and she informed him of what was going on in Sanq. 

Government structures were gone. Even the rioters had died down, having nothing left to steal, or destroy. They’d finally realized there was no establishment to attack anymore and when the herds of the Undead came around, they either succumbed to them, or scattered to the four winds. 

Relena herself was holed up in her villa in the European countryside with her brother, Milliardo and his wife, Noin. He told her to stay there as long as it was safe and that he was going to keep trying to provide people with communications to give them a fighting chance of survival.

He’d lost contact with Duo, Trowa, Quatre, and Wufei. Couldn’t even locate them with GPS. He had no idea where any of them were, or if they were even still alive. 

He finally realized there was nothing he could do. He was the only one up there. Even the bits and pieces of activity he could find were getting smaller and more sparse with each passing day, eventually going completely quiet. The colonies were dark and ominously silent. Only the herds of Undead moved around them now. Heero didn’t know why they tended to congregate together. Maybe some semblance of human nature still remained somewhere deep in the brain stem. But there was nothing about them that was human. 

Except the savagery perhaps. That hadn’t changed. Only the type of savagery had. 

Humans had caused irrevocable damage to the planet and each other. Nature’s response had been de-evolution.The Undead were unleashed to clean up the remnants, scavenge what was left of the stray survivors. Eventually, everyone would be gone, even the Undead. When decomposition finally reached the tiny area of their brains that kept them going, they would also die off.

He left for his transport two weeks later, panicked when he lost contact with Relena. He flew back to Earth, hoping against hope that they’d simply moved on to another location. He returned to the villa to discover there was no hope. The Undead swarmed the house and he quickly disposed of them and ran inside, shouting for Relena. 

He encountered both Milliardo and Noin, the evidence that they’d been overrun by the herd made obvious by the torn and bloody remains of their bodies as they shuffled towards him, snapping their jaws, inhuman groans and growls emitting from their throats. There was no language, no speech. Not anymore.

He choked down his dread and tried not to think too much about what had to be done. It was merciful, at least that’s what he told himself. He dispatched them quickly and cleanly and bolted up the stairs, praying to deities he didn’t believe in that Relena was still alive somewhere in the house.

He reached their bedroom. The door was still open and he halted just inside the threshold, his heart plummeting into his stomach.

Relena stood by the window and at first, she seemed okay. She turned at the commotion at the door and that’s when he saw the blood staining the front of her dress. There was a gaping wound on her neck, a bite from the looks of it, and the amount of blood that covered her and the walls and floor indicated her jugular had been torn open. 

The only comfort he allowed himself was the notion that she’d probably died quickly and relatively painlessly. He dropped to his knees as she shambled towards him, the tell tale sound of decomposing vocal chords hissing and rumbling from between her colorless lips. 

His head lowered in grief and shame. He should have come sooner. Should have just accepted the fact that civilization was gone. He hadn’t been able to protect her and the guilt was all-encompassing.

He stood as she came closer and he looked deep into eyes that no longer recognized him. It wasn’t her. She was gone. Hopefully, gone on to a better place. But he owed her this much.

“I’m so sorry,” he croaked. “I’ve failed you. I should have been here instead of out there. I’m so sorry…” Tears streamed down his cheeks as he pulled his knife out of the sheath attached to his waistband. He caressed her hair and she snapped at him, digging her teeth into the soft flesh of his underarm. His grieving mind didn’t even register the pain. The pain was in losing her, failing her. 

He drove the knife through her temple and she collapsed in his arms. He held her close and wept into her hair. Her skin was cold, unnaturally so, but he stroked it anyway, running his fingers along her chilled arm.

He had enough time to bury her in her garden before he began to show signs of infection. It was peaceful, brimming with all her favorite flowers. 

He whispered, “I love you,” as he set the final stone at the head of her grave and stood, closing his eyes as a soft breeze blew against his skin, just beginning to spike with fever. It wouldn’t be long now. 

If it wasn’t for the knowledge that the end had come, it would have seemed like a normal spring day. The birds still sang, the wind still rustled the newly emerged leaves, the sun still shone. The Earth would be fine. The rest of the creatures that inhabited it, would be fine. 

“I’ll see you soon.”

He went back inside, to the bedroom, and sat down on the bed. He would not tarnish her final resting place with what he was about to do. He had to do it soon, before the sickness made him too weak. He fiddled with the pistol in his hands and realized that he was going to die the way he’d always known he would. By his own hand.

The time of humans was over.

Chapter Text

Pairings: Trowa/Quatre, Duo/Wufei, Duo/Hilde (past)

Type: Zombie Apocalypse, Drama

Rating: M

Warnings: Dark, Graphic Violence, Gore, Rape/Noncon

Notes: I had already started to write this story before I responded to ClaraxBarton's prompt. I decided to make it a prequel to this one, instead of having two separate zombie apocalypse stories in a row. :)




Still Here


Duo drove the machete down into the skull of the Undead's head. Its jaws clamped and snapped for another few seconds before going lax. He stared at the rotting flesh up close and personal and sneered as its legs gave out and it finally dropped to its knees. He pressed his foot on the decomposed shoulder and wrenched the blade out of its head. It dropped face first to the ground with a sickening splat. He could hear another one approaching from behind, felt the cold slime of its slobber on his bare shoulder and he spun quickly, swinging the blade. It sliced through the rotted neck, the head separating from its body. Cold, congealed blood spurted out onto his arms and he shook them in disgust as he gazed at his lover with tired eyes. Wufei's eyes reflected the lassitude, identical in every way. How long had it been since they'd slept? Really slept.

The remains of the small herd lay scattered around them, fallen by their hands. Duo stared up at the rising sun, breath coming hard and fast. Another day. Another day of barely getting by, surviving only to fight these Undead monsters.

The virus that caused this phenomenon spread like wildfire throughout the human population, both on Earth and in the colonies. In the early days of the outbreak, Duo had heard innumerable amounts of rumors and conspiracy theories, many of them as outlandish as the strange anomaly itself. While the theory that the world's governments had engineered the virus was a plausible one, Duo much preferred the explanation that the Earth had simply decided it was time for a rebirthing. Overpopulation, wars, senseless violence, deforestation, famine, disease. Oh yes, they were overdue to be taken down a few pegs on the food chain. And they had, big time considering these things had a taste for human flesh. It spread so fast because a simple bite from an infected person would result in more infection, death, and finally, reanimation. 

It happened quickly, too. Society fell fast and hard. The fragile grasp humankind held on civilization crumbled like dust in the wind. In less than two weeks, the intricate power grid failed, engulfing the planet and colonies in darkness. Without electronic communication, there was no way of knowing where the safe zones were, if there were any left. 

Food was scarce and they had taken to scavenging what they could and hunting the rest. Thankfully, the virus seemed contained only in humans so animals were safe to eat. They ran rampant through the countryside and the cities, without mass numbers of humans to keep their population under control, which worked in their favor.

They were constantly on the move, had to be. It was impossible to settle anywhere. It was never long before a herd would find them. Before surviving stragglers would come to take what they had. Being in almost constant motion had been something they'd all done during the wars. It was something they were accustomed to so they adapted relatively quickly.

A snap of twigs and the crunch of footsteps on dead leaves alerted their senses and they turned to see Trowa and Quatre emerge from the trees with their supper. Four rabbits and Duo breathed a sigh of relief. They would eat well tonight. 

They camped out under the cover of the forest. The fallen tree branches, sticks, and twigs served as an alarm system of sorts as the footsteps of the Undead, or anyone else that could cause them harm would be heard from a good distance. Still, they set up a perimeter of primitive traps with twine and tin cans. Holes, deep enough to hold the Undead, dug around their sleeping area should anything slip through. They had not only them to worry about, but also the living. It was every man for himself now. People took what they wanted through violence and force. It was a cruel and ugly world, even worse than it was before.

Killing was nothing new to any of them. They'd done plenty of it during the war and they'd done it a few times since this all began six months ago. The bloodiest had been when Quatre was ambushed in the woods while hunting. The six men intent on taking not only his kills, but also him. An enraged shout had alerted the rest of them and they'd followed the sounds of a struggle to find their friend pinned down and half naked. Trowa went into a blind rage and single-handedly slaughtered all but the rapist. Once Quatre redressed himself, he'd taken Trowa's blade, still dripping with blood, and decapitated the man. Then, he spat on the still-twitching body and walked away, his kills slung over his shoulder.

Not even post-war Quatre would have so callously spit on the bodies of his enemies, but this was a different world. A different Quatre. They were all irreversibly changed. Harder, crueler. They had to be. It was the only way to stay alive.

Duo sipped the water that he and Wufei had gathered from a nearby creek and watched Trowa and Quatre gut and skin the rabbits. They worked quickly and quietly as they speared the meat onto sharpened sticks to cook over the fire. They had been close during the war and were even closer now. Lovers. The kind of relationship that their previous world wouldn't give them. Now, it flourished in this new world without prejudice, or pressing obligations to family.

Their group had been bigger in the beginning, over twenty survivors big, but one by one, they were taken down until only the four of them were left. Trowa's sister, Catherine, had been bitten a few months ago and succumbed to the fever the infection brought on. He had been the one to plunge his knife into her brain to prevent her from turning. It was a heartbreaking scene to watch him do it and then collapse into Quatre's arms, weeping in great gasping sobs. 

Quatre had lost contact with his family even before the war. As far as he knew, they'd been taken out in napalm while gathered in a Mosque on L4. Quatre had gone to the Maguanacs stronghold in Egypt only to discover half of them had turned, the other half were in various stages of being eaten by their comrades. He'd been swarmed and barely made it out alive, fleeing to the circus to be with Trowa and Cathy. When the circus was overrun, only the three of them survived.

Duo was forced to take out Hilde fairly early on as they, and Howard were overwhelmed by a herd on L2. Hilde was bitten in the throat and bled out quickly. She'd lunged at Howard while Duo was grieving over her, sinking her infected teeth into the flesh of his arm. Duo stayed with him until he passed from the sickness, overcome with guilt that he had not taken care of her before she turned. He couldn't. It wasn't until she went after Howard, when it was too late, that he'd been able to plunge the knife into her head. He met up with Wufei at Preventers which was still relatively safe at the time. Safe, until another herd attacked Headquarters.

Communications had been failing and they were less than reliable, but Duo was able to get a message out to Quatre and Trowa and the four of them met up in Virginia, tagged along by the rest of the survivors they'd picked up along the way. They were unable to contact or find Heero. Duo assumed he'd gone to be with Relena. He could only hope wherever they were, they were safe. 

Duo and Wufei developed a strong bond in the last several months since the apocalypse. Wufei didn't have anyone to tie him down even before it began and Duo had lost Hilde and Howard. Wufei was there for him when he wept and grieved over them. One thing had led to another, as they always do, and soon, they were lovers as well.

Quatre pulled two sticks of meat out of the fire and handed them to Duo and Wufei. Duo's stomach rumbled and he bit into the flesh hungrily, not missing the irony that they weren't doing anything all that different than the Undead. The only thing the Undead didn't do was cook their meat beforehand. It was gamey, a bit dry, but such was the way of things in the new world. They were happy to get what they got.

Wufei chewed his food thoughtfully and said, "What I wouldn't give for a little orange sauce to go with this."

Duo nearly choked on a laugh, coughing around a lump of meat that lodged in this throat. Wufei shot him a wry grin and that got Quatre going. He doubled over in a fit of giggles which caused Trowa to start laughing. Soon, they were all cracking up and for a moment, it felt more like a camping trip with the guys. It was times like these that made the horrific reality of what they were dealing with worth it. Just a fleeting moment of normalcy gave the horrors of their lives purpose. The reason they fought to live another day.

It was just the four of them against the world. Against a world that wanted them dead. Much like it had been before. It would have to be enough. Enough until one, or all of them succumbed to something, whether it was disease, starvation, the Undead, or any of the ragtag surviving humans. Duo couldn't help but realize the brutality of what they'd all done. Nature was brutal. There was no way around that. They did what they had to do until Death came for them. He only wished Heero could have been there with them, but maybe he was somewhere better. 

The time for humans was not over. Not as long as they still walked the Earth. Not if Duo had anything to say about it.

Chapter Text

Pairing: Trowa/Quatre

Type: Introspective, Yaoi

Rating: T-M-ish, I don't know

Warnings: None





If there was one thing Quatre loved about Trowa, it was his fingers. 

Oh, he loved every part of him of course. But, those fingers...they were incredible. Long, slender, tapered and tipped with beautiful nails. The skin was smooth, silky, golden brown on top, and deliciously calloused beneath.

Those fingers could work miracles whether it was building and operating Gundams, or making beautiful music on his flute, or making Quatre sigh with pleasure. 

They could be ruthless when curled into a fist, smashing into his enemies faces, splitting skin and crushing bone. Yet so gentle when he brushed them across Quatre skin, caressing a cheek, stroking an arm.

They were quite the enigma, deliciously rough, but without permanent harm when they held his wrists over his head, or clutched his trembling thighs. Creating exquisite friction when wrapped around his erection, or plunged deep into his depths, grazing across his most intimate place. 

He loved to kiss them, tiny pecks against each tip, and wrap his lips around the lovely digits. 

Trowa's fingers were not beautiful because of how they looked, or what they could do. They were beautiful because they were an extension of the magnificent person he was. 

Chapter Text

Pairings: Duo/Wufei

Type: Angst

Rating: T+

Warnings: Semi-graphic depiction of death.





The grief was unusual in ways he'd never experienced before. Not as profound as when his clan was killed, but nothing like the lives he'd taken before. It settled into his stomach like an iron weight. Blowing random soldiers to smithereens was one thing. It was quite another to impale someone with your own hands and watch as they slowly succumbed to death.

Having to hear the gurgle, that God-awful rattling as the enemy choked on the blood in his trachea. Watch as they struggled through the pain, struggled to breathe, to live. The surprise that shined in wide eyes that gradually dulled until there was nothing left. The blood. So much of it, painting the floor with crimson damnation. He didn't feel good about it, though some perverse voice inside his head said he should. The war was over. They'd set out to reach their goals and they'd obtained them. He should feel vindicated. Instead he felt forsaken.

Duo arrived a short time later and found him kneeling by the enemy's side, head bowed.

"Come on, Fei. It's time to go." He wrapped his hand around Wufei's arm and pulled him up. He obediently rose to his feet and followed him out, feeling numb, detached from reality. Duo was uncharacteristically quiet, somehow knowing that Wufei needed the calm, the space. He paused in front of the cockpit of Nataku and cupped the boy's cheek. Wufei eyes were far away, gazing into middle distance, but seeing things that only he could see in his tumultuous mind.

"Fei. Fei, look at me."

The black eyes flickered up, looking lost, vulnerable. His lips parted and he spoke in a raspy whisper, barely audible beneath the blare of alarms. "I - I've seen Death. I've seen it so many times, but I've never seen it like I saw it today."

Duo offered him a sympathetic smile. "It's a little different when it's up close and personal, isn't it?"

Wufei looked on the verge of tears. "Does it get any better?"

Duo shook his head, his eyes sad. "No. It doesn't." He leaned his forehead against Wufei's. "I wish I could tell you differently, but it doesn't. This will haunt you for the rest of your life."

Wufei's breath hitched, just slightly. "How have you lived with it for so long and not lost your mind?"

Duo's shoulders lifted in a shrug. "It doesn't get easier, but you learn to accept it. It's a part of life. There's no way around that, Fei. Your hands will never feel clean, but you will learn to live with it. With time. You are changed in ways that are irreversible. But you will adapt." He caressed the back of the boy's head, hand wrapping around the ponytail and tugging gently. "I'm here for you. You know that, right?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "Yeah, I know. Thank you."

"No need to thank me, love. I'm always here. And hopefully now, there will be peace and we won't have to see anymore of this. Do anymore of this."

"Do you believe that will happen?"

"I have to." Duo pressed their lips together and Wufei whimpered into the kiss, so grateful that Duo was there to cushion the blow. It would always hurt. It would never get better, but with time, he would learn to accept what he'd done, what he had to do for the good of his people, for humanity. The blood on his hands would always be there, but it would fade. He had to believe that, just as much as Duo believed that peace would reign supreme. He wasn't so sure himself, but for Duo, he would always give the benefit of the doubt.

Chapter Text

Pairings: Dorothy/Relena/Heero

Type: PWP, Threesome F/F/M

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: D/s, Light Bondage




Ménage à Trois

The fire cracked pleasantly inside the chamber's hearth, casting a flickering glow throughout the otherwise dark room. The wind howled outside, snow accumulating into the corners of the window and whitening out the world beyond. The only sounds within were the huffs of soft breath and the occasional sigh.

Dorothy turned from the window as a particularly loud hum vibrated the surrounding air and she glanced over her shoulder at her lovers. She was treated to the immensely erotic sight of Relena's heart-shaped bottom sticking up in the air as she knelt between the legs of their male lover. Her head rose and fell, long brown hair sliding off her shoulders, exposing the expanse of her smooth back. The light from the fire accentuated the stark contrast of the girl's rib cage.

She'd had her pets now for sixth months and she was elated that the arrangement she had planned for them was working out beautifully. They'd been a couple before answering her advert in the local bulletin boards in her quest for a new set of pets for her personal enjoyment. She had very little difficulty training them and with the proper love and care, she'd taught them her preferences, her ways and they learned quickly, working tirelessly to please her.

Her eyes roamed proudly over the two pets on bed. The golden gleam of their skin was beautiful against the blood red bed covers and she watched with growing hunger as Relena brought Heero to an elusive brink he couldn't yet touch with the ring wrapped around the base of his cock. He was tied to the mahogany bed posts, the red silk scarves wrapped around his wrists creating a breathtaking contrast against his skin. He trembled and shook as his erection disappeared into Relena's mouth. The ring that pierced the tip gleaming in the light for a split second before it was engulfed between painted red lips. Both of her pets were pierced, gold rings adorning both their nippes and sparkled between their legs.

Her crest had been branded into the skin of their lower backs and Relena's was clearly visible in her current position. Dorothy basked in the exhilaration of possession, her finger lifting between her lips and she bit down, trying to fight the urge to go to them.

She felt the surge as the vision before her sent waves of heady arousal down between her legs and she cupped her hand over her own breast, thumb stroking a nipple over the sheer black body stocking. She stepped forward, the heels of her black pumps sinking into the plush carpet. She did not want to participate, not yet. She wanted to watch her lovers pleasure each other before she allowed them to pleasure her.

"How's it going, pets?"

Heero bit down on his tongue just before he could utter words he so badly wanted to say, but knew he wasn't allowed to. He'd shown remarkable self-restraint during these six months and Dorothy considered rewarding him for it. He turned his head instead and bit down into the flesh of his bicep, his hands twisting in their bonds. Relena's head rose up and she looked over at Dorothy, lips swollen and shining with saliva. She shot her Mistress a lecherous look, blue eyes bright with desire. She slid her knees further apart, displaying her beautiful pussy, the lips red with blood and glistening with lubrication. "Why don't you come get a taste?"

She yelped when Dorothy slapped a smooth ass cheek. "What did I tell you about teasing me?" But she relented, unable to resist temptation. She lifted her knees onto the bed and crawled forward, lowering her face to the girl's lovely pussy. She inhaled the sweet scents of Relena's arousal and swiped her tongue, starting at the tiny little hood of her clitoris, playing with the tiny hoop that hung down, sinking through the folds of her vulva, dipping briefly into the opening, and up to the twitching anus. Relena moaned around the cock in her mouth, her legs shaking as Dorothy used her thumbs to open her up and pressed her face into her moist, intimate center. She licked and sucked on the sweet juices, laving her tongue over quivering nooks and crannies until Relena's hips shook and jolted. The girl pulled her head off Heero's erection and bleated as Dorothy's mouth was flooded with her come. She lapped it up and swallowed it down, watching with satisfaction as Relena's legs gave out and she lowered her hips to the bed, twitching with aftershocks.

She glanced up at Heero and drank in the pleading gaze he graced her with. He licked his lips and Dorothy crawled up to him, leaning down until her face hovered over his. She captured his open mouth and they shared the flavors of Relena on her tongue. He panted into her mouth as she lifted her head up. "Is there something you want, pet?" He dipped his chin in affirmation. She caressed his cheek and whispered, "You've been a good boy. You are allowed to speak. Tell me what you want."

He whimpered, "You."

"You're going to have to be more specific, love."

"I want," he groaned and tipped his head back. Dorothy looked between his raised knees to see Relena's head dipped down between his thighs, a tightened testicle in her mouth. She smirked and looked back at Heero with a raised brow. "Well?"

"I want to taste you."

Dorothy grinned and straightened up, swinging a leg over his head and lowering her pelvis over his mouth. She released the fasteners between her thighs, baring her pussy and hissed as the hot, wet mouth engulfed her clitoris. "That's it," she whispered, sliding a hand beneath the bodysuit and fondling her own breasts. She moaned as his tongue ventured down and teased her opening, dipping inside and she rotated her hips so that sinful appendage touched her in all the right places. "Pleasure me, pet."

He hummed and moaned, the vibrations tickling her in the most delicious ways and she threw her head back as the pleasure concentrated itself between her legs and built up until it reached its excruciating pinnacle. She cried out as she released it into his mouth, her hips stuttering as she clutched her breasts and shook through her orgasm. She climbed off of him and caught the nearly painful look in his eyes.

"Please let me come."

"Not yet, love. You still have more work to do."

She turned and gestured to Relena and the girl pulled her mouth off his cock, climbed up onto his lap, lining her pussy over the rock hard cock, angry red above the tight black cock ring. Dorothy bit her lip as she watched Heero's erection slide inside that beautiful pussy and nearly came again as those perky breasts bounced with her up and down movements. Dorothy surged forward and wrapped her mouth around a swollen nipple, sucking nearly a third of the breast into her mouth. Relena keened and cupped her hand around the back of her head, keeping Dorothy attached to her.

Dorothy allowed it for the moment and suckled hungrily, pulling off and licking a swath over the swell. "I fucking love your tits," she rasped against the damp skin. She slid her hand down between Relena's legs, her fingers finding the place where Heero's cock plunged inside her and she groaned as a gush of warmth flooded her pussy, the feel of that hard cock disappearing inside her girl so fucking erotic. She pulled her fingers back slightly and circled them over Relena's clit and the girl's back arched as she bounced harder on Heero's lap. Dorothy rose up and took her mouth in a deep kiss and Relena whimpered as her mouth was taken.

Heero's hips were moving, rising up, digging deeper into that sweet pussy and Dorothy allowed it. He'd been good. His hands twisted in their bonds, desperate to touch and he huffed and panted and wept as he remained on the edge of orgasm, but was unable to cross it.

Relena came a few minutes later with a shout, grinding her crotch against Heero's groin and then slumped forward, spent. Dorothy maneuvered her over onto her back and opened her legs. "Stay just like that," she whispered. The girl nodded as Dorothy turned around and untied the bonds that kept Heero's wrists to the bedpost. He rose up gratefully and grabbed her breasts, sucking one into his mouth. Dorothy moaned and bit his ear lobe, her tongue slithering in. "Fuck me."

He nodded and she turned around onto all fours, spreading her legs and sighing as that hard cock slid inside her and began to thrust, hips slapping against her ass. She lowered herself down to her elbows and buried her face between Relena's legs. The girl was still over-sensitive and yelped, her legs involuntarily trying to close. Dorothy wrenched her thighs open and growled as she ate the girl out and Relena sobbed, overwhelmed, her hips twitching. Dorothy groaned into the folds of her vagina, rubbing her nose against the clit ring as Heero's cock plundered her depths, his fingers digging into the skin of her hips. She could feel the waves of pleasure increasing every time she was impaled.

She tongued vigorously at the pussy in her mouth, savoring the sounds of her pets' pleasure. She thrust two fingers into the girl and licked around them, her mouth assaulted with come a moment later as the girl screamed through her climax. She pulled her face away long enough to bark over her shoulder, "Touch me!"

Heero's arm wrapped around her middle, his fingers seeking out her clit and he rubbed it until Dorothy's pussy was flooded with heat and wetness, the thrusting of his cock prolonging the ecstasy. She slurred through clenched teeth, "You may come now," and Heero whimpered, releasing himself from the cock ring. He pulled his twitching cock out of Dorothy's body, his come splashing over the folds of her pussy and sliding down to her clit before it dripped onto the bed. He leaned over her back as he tried to catch his breath and she allowed it for a moment, then pushed him off and rose up off the bed to wipe the come from between her legs.

Her pets gravitated towards each other as they always did after sex. Heero rested his head on Relena's belly and she stroked the dark, messy hair as their breathing slowed. Dorothy smiled as their eyes rested on her, tinged with awe and worship.

"You did well pleasing your Mistress, my beautiful pets."

They preened and glowed beneath the praise. It was what they lived for and they opened their arms to invite her between them and though she wasn't a cuddler, she obliged. They deserved a reward after all.

Chapter Text

Pairings: Trowa/Quatre

Type: Yaoi, Humor

Rating: M

Warnings: None




Your Gundam, or Mine?

It wasn't easy making love inside a mobile suit. Trowa and Quatre had figured that out first hand. There was precious little room for two people inside the cockpit of a Gundam, but sometimes it was the only place they could retreat to for a little bump and grind. In the middle of a war, you took what you could get. Luckily neither one of them were big people, but it still didn't make things any more comfortable. They figured out the best way was for Trowa to sit in the control chair while Quatre straddled his lap. 

They tried having Quatre drape himself over the back of the seat while Trowa thrust into him from behind, but that had had disastrous consequences when Trowa's ass smacked into the control panel. The result had caused Heavyarms to fire up its thrusters and knocked both pilots out cold when the subsequent lurch conked their heads into the metal ceiling. Duo had found them, butt naked and sprawled awkwardly over the chair.

He was still laughing about it even though it had been four months ago.

Their preferred current position removed the risk of that happening again, but it wasn't easy for Quatre to slide his legs beneath the chairs arms. But since beggars couldn't be choosers, they made it work. 

After a particularly grueling battle that occurred over Shanghai, the adrenaline rush was causing Trowa to feel especially frisky. He shifted inside Heavyarms' cockpit as his burgeoning erection pressed against the front of his jeans. He opened a private channel to Sandrock.

"Zero Four."

"Yes, Zero Three. I read you."

"Heavyarms, or Sandrock?"

"Wh - now?"


"Damn it, Trowa! Can't it wait until we find a campsite?"


"Ugh. Fine. Sandrock then."

"Copy that."

Quatre cut the connection and rubbed his face. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy sex with Trowa. He loved it, but this whole fuck-in-a-Gundam thing was getting old. He still had bruises on the tops of his thighs from the chair arms digging into them the last time Trowa wasn't able to wait. At least Sandrock's arms were a little higher which gave him a tiny bit more room for his legs. Not much, but it would have to do. Trowa was always especially amorous after battle which meant the sex was particularly enjoyable. He only wished Trowa could wait until they found a place where they had more room to move around. 

A knock at the hatch startled him out of his thoughts and he punched the button to open the door. His comm link buzzed to life just as Trowa was trying to squeeze in beside him.

"Yeah, uh...could you guys maybe not knock each other out this time?"

Quatre irritably pressed the call button, snarling into the microphone. "Zip it, Zero Two."

There was a cackle on the other end of the line and Quatre slapped the connection closed. He glared up at Trowa who was already busy shucking his clothing in the tight space, every so often smacking an elbow, or knee into him. Trowa raised a brow at him.


He shook his head. "Nothing." He slipped the buttons of his shirt out of their holes as Trowa, already undressed, went to work on Quatre's belt and trousers. The slid against each other as they switched positions and Trowa sat back into the seat. Quatre pushed his legs through the arm holes and settled down into his lover's lap, hissing as Trowa's erection pressed up into him. After a heated kiss, Quatre found himself quickly getting into the mood as Trowa ground his groin against his backside. He rubbed his ass over the hardness, his own erection brushing against Trowa's abdomen, beginning to tremble with arousal. Okay. It wasn't the Ritz, but it had its perks.

He was ready, so damn ready now. "Mmm...Trowa. Fuck me."

He jerked his head up as Trowa cursed brokenly, glancing down at his lover to see him almost sulking.

"What's wrong?"

"I left the lube in Heavyarms."

Chapter Text

Pairings: Trowa/Quatre

Type: Yaoi, Romance, Drama

Rating: T

Warnings: None

Notes: Written for a photo prompt for @morbidbirdy on Tumblr.






The base was quiet this time of night. Only the steady hum of machinery reverberated through the steel walls. Most everyone was already asleep with the exception of the night guards patrolling the graveyard shift. 

There was a small lounge located near the back of the base and Trowa blinked under the bright halogen lights after flipping on the switch, then thought better of it and turned them back off. The only light that remained was the glow from the vending machines and he felt his way around in the dark until he reached one of the two padded armchairs that sat side by side near the window. Beyond the aluminum frame and slightly cloudy glass was the endless expanse of the snow-capped Himalayas. Only the white of the snow was visible at this time of night and they gleamed under the light of the full moon like frozen beacons.

He sunk down into the chair, wrought with fatigue, laden with contemplation. It had been a while since they’d last seen each other and their reunion was full of awkward tension. Their last meeting had ended when his fellow co-pilot kissed him. It had been tentative, timid. The boy’s blue eyes gleamed with hope when he’d pulled back, teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he waited for Trowa’s reaction. 

Trowa had known there’d been something special between them, almost from the moment they met, not that he’d been willing to acknowledge it at the time. He knew Quatre had felt it, too, though he wasn’t sure how. He hadn’t stuck around long enough to find out. 

He also hadn’t stuck around after that kiss. He tried to tell himself it was simply Quatre’s pain medication and excitement over the end of the war. An impulse. Which he knew wasn’t accurate and his logical mind called him out on his attempts to lie to himself. Quatre was not impulsive. Everything he did was carefully calculated, thought out in intricate detail beforehand. Even under the influence of morphine, Quatre had known exactly what he was doing.

Even under the influence of Zero, he’d known exactly what he was doing. Now, if that wasn’t indicative of a powerful mind, Trowa didn’t know what was.

 At any rate, he had not been emotionally equipped to handle more than that shy kiss. He’d known what existed between them. The almost omnipotent bond that had taken on a life of its own, spinning between them like a neutron star, its gravitational pull too strong for either of them to pull away from. They orbited it, falling deeper into its clutches. Trowa had known there was no escape, but he ran all the same. Back to the circus. Back to familiarity, the convenience of not having to deal with the weight of this…this whatever it was. He honestly had no words for it. It was too compelling, too gravid for mere language. It transcended Earthly confines, uncurling itself into uncharted territory, skirting the realm of absolution.

It fucking terrified him.

That was the long and the short of it. Who was he, a lowly foot soldier, a grunt, a Nanashi, to be blessed with something so significant? Things like this just didn’t happen to him. It was against some fundamental, universal law, he was sure of it. 

But, despite the odds, this stunning creature, this pillar of light and hope had seen something in him he never knew existed and was drawn to him, felt the pull just as powerfully as Trowa had. 

And he’d known it was only a matter of time before they collided again. The burning question was, would they continue to bounce off each other, or come together for good? To meld and coalesce into one?

He knew the bouncing off part had been him. If Quatre had had his way, they would already be together. Trowa was just too afraid he’d singe his wings. His and Quatre’s.

But, human nature, the laws of physics, whatever it was, inevitably brought them back together. Being sucked back into war again after he’d found a somewhat comfortable niche at the circus. It was lonely, but it was proverbial. And safe. 

“Fancy seeing you down here.”

The soft, almost intimate murmur didn’t startle him. Through their peculiar connection, he’d felt the boy’s approach. He’d sensed Quatre’s inability to sleep as strongly as his own. The weight of the singularity between them needed to be addressed before it either collapsed and sucked in everything around them, or exploded under the energy of its own friction. No matter which way the pendulum swung, it could be disastrous for everyone involved. He knew that as surely as he knew Heavyarms’ algorithms. 

The soft shuffle of Quatre’s footsteps came closer, his vague shape in the dark crossing in front of his line of sight. He plopped down in the opposite chair with a heavy sigh. Trowa could feel the intelligence, the rapine spirit in those blue eyes as they focused on him, somehow seeing him clearly where Trowa’s eyes strained to make out his features in the murk between them. His fingers drummed along the arm of his chair, then came to rest in his lap.

Quatre’s voice was muted, speaking with an uncharacteristic reluctance. “It’s been a year.”

Trowa nodded absently. “It has.”

“How’ve you been?”


He sensed Quatre’s wry smile. “As talkative as ever.” He cleared his throat and shifted in the chair. “Trowa, I’m…sorry if I made things awkward between us. If you really don’t feel the same, I understand, but I’d hoped we’d at least be friends -”

“You’re lying”

He paused. “Excuse me?”

“You know damned well I feel the same.”

Another pause, and then cautiously, “How would I know that?”

“Don’t play dumb, Quatre. You know it just as well as I do.”

Quatre looked down at his lap, his fingers fidgety. “Then…why?”

Trowa’s shoulders lifted in some weird combination of a shrug and a stretch. “Because…I don’t know what to make of all this.”

“And your response is to just run away and refuse to address it.”

Trowa glared at him, knowing Quatre could see it. “Forgive me for not understanding something I’ve never experienced before -”

“Do you think I have? Do you honestly think I understand this anymore than you do?”

Yes, Trowa honestly thought he did and was a little surprised to discover this was as strange for Quatre as it was for him. He didn’t even know why he’d thought that now. His tongue was tied, a little lost for the right words. Where did they go from here? 

He felt Quatre’s lassitude at the situation, his confusion, and his frustration. He saw the blond head dip in a nod of hopeless finality. 

“Right. I’m sorry I interrupted your…solitude.” He stood up, stepping past Trowa on his way out of the lounge. 

What Trowa did didn’t even require thought. His body responded instinctively as it typically did where Quatre was concerned. His hand shot out and snagged the boy’s wrist before he was out of reach. Quatre stumbled a little as his momentum was halted. Trowa stood up abruptly, steadying him with firm hands clamped around the blond’s upper arms. 

He felt Quatre’s shallow breaths against the skin of his chest, hot and moist. His brain was furiously warning him not to fudge this up. 

You’ve done what everyone else has wanted all your life. Drop your fucking balls, Barton. Be a man and take what you want.

Heero’s voice echoed, unbidden in his mind.

Follow your heart.

His hand lifted, curling around the boy’s soft neck, tangling in the wispy curls of his hair. His thumb brushed the skin beneath his eye. His own eyes, more accustomed to the dark now, could easily make out the puzzled, anxious expression on the upturned face. Quatre’s fingers, shaky with adrenaline, touched, feather-light against his lips. The gentle caress sent a spark of heat down his spine.

Trowa did the only thing there was left to do. He spoke the absolute truth.

“I don’t know where things go from here. I don’t really know what this is. But I know I can’t stay away from you. I tried. I tried to forget it. I tried to ignore it, but…I just can’t. I can’t not be around you. It eats me up inside in ways I can’t even begin to describe.”

Quatre’s lips pressed together, looking up at him with eyes that were as open and expressive as the cloudless night sky. Once upon a time, that had terrified Trowa. Now, it left him feeling almost weak with euphoria. 

What had I been so afraid of?

“That’s a good question,” Quatre whispered. His mouth curled up at Trowa’s soft laugh. 

“When you kissed me, I panicked.”

“I know.”

“Can we…start over? Is that possible?”

Quatre leaned up on his toes and brushed his lips against Trowa’s. His breath was warm, soft, full of promise, of limitless possibilities. “Anything’s possible.”

Chapter Text

Pairing: Trowa/Quatre

Type: Yaoi, Introspective

Rating: M

Warnings: None






It wasn’t easy to find love. It was even less easy to find love that wrapped around your heart with tendrils of spiky thorns. It hurt, but it hurt so damned good and Trowa was hooked like a junkie in need of his next fix.

He couldn’t get enough. Quatre was the drug that kept on giving. A slow, sweet poison that contaminated the blood in his veins, every nook and cranny of his body, every corner of his essence. His mind was saturated with it, his soul hopelessly caught in the web of intoxication. He needed it, coveted it, his eyes rolling back in bliss when the craving was satisfied.

Everything Quatre was, he desired all of it. Ached to possess it, possess him, his fingers curling into his palms with a furious tension until the time came that he could have him again. And the little blond devil knew it. Flaunted it. Thrived off of it.

But, that was okay. Because Trowa knew Quatre needed him, too. Needed him like he needed air to breathe. After a long day at the office, long day at the circus, they would come together in the dark of night, tired, but hungry. Ravenous. Starved for the sustenance that they could only get from each other. They fed off each other, from the rasp of calloused palms on silky skin to the nails that gouged into a muscular back. The moist panting mouths and the trembling limbs. The teeth that gripped a bottom lip, an earlobe, to the legs that wrapped around a waist. 

Afterwords, once the heat of passion had submersed itself in the cooling bliss of orgasm, the touches would turn soft, the kisses tender. They would lay, one on top of the other and breathe and just be. Together. One the same yet two so different. An enigma that had stood the test of time.

Eight years now. Eight years that they’d been irreversibly addicted to each other. Maybe it wasn’t healthy. Maybe it wasn’t proper. But, neither of them could give it up. They simply didn’t want to. It simply was meant to be.

The moments that stretched from one round of lovemaking to the next were interspersed with the quiet moments of companionship. Those moments were reserved for the press of limbs and soft conversation. Quatre had taken to donning Trowa’s old t-shirts, laying across him clad in the worn cotton and his briefs. He would pour over his reports, the papers scattered across Trowa’s legs, his feet idly kicking the air above Trowa’s head.

This was when Trowa loved him the most. The pleasant weight across his body, grounding him, reminding him of why he was alive. It was when Trowa reserved his most gentle touches, his most intimate words. Stroke his hand along a smooth leg, massage the pad of a foot, press his lips against his lover’s toes. Quatre would hum in contentment, sometimes resting his head on Trowa’s calf, kissing the skin reverently.

These were the moments he cherished. The ones that told him he was truly home.

Chapter Text

Pairing: Trowa/Quatre

Type: Yaoi, Humor

Rating: T+

Warnings: None

Notes: Written for a photo prompt for @imgoingthereagain on Tumblr.




“Hey, Trowa.”


“Ever made love in a hot air balloon?”

The huskily whispered question caught Trowa off guard and he coughed around his mouthful of scrambled eggs. He managed to swallow them down without choking to death with a little help from his coffee. He cleared his throat and glanced up.


Quatre was sitting across from him at the breakfast table and despite the public’s perception that the blond was a distinguished little gentleman, Trowa knew that couldn’t be further from the truth. He lounged in his bathrobe, his bare legs and feet propped up on the table, one ankle over the other, and the paper open across his lap. He shot Trowa a lecherous grin.

“I know you heard me.”

Trowa glanced at the slightly wiggling toes and tried to pretend his face wasn’t beet red. “Er…you know that’s not sanitary.”

Quatre glanced at his feet in confusion. “What? They’re clean.”

Trowa snorted and took another bite of eggs. “To answer your question, no. No, I haven’t made love in a hot air balloon.”

Trowa knew what was coming next before the blond even said it. “Wanna try it?”

“Isn’t that a little dangerous?”

Quatre looked at him like he was an idiot. “Are you serious? Mr. Tight-Rope-Trapeze-Artist? Do I need to remind you that you also piloted a Gundam during the war?”

“No, you don’t need to remind me of that.”

The blond paused. “You scared?”

Trowa scoffed and leaned back, lifting his mug off the table. “I was just thinking what a terrible way to die that would be.”

Quatre cocked his head. “I would think it would be a wonderful way to die.”

“That would depend.”

“On what?”

“On whether we fell out before the climax, or after.”

Quatre grinned and Trowa knew it was going to happen. Come Hell, or high water. Now that the idea was in Quatre’s head, it would never leave. Trowa just hoped they didn’t grace the headlines the next day.

CEO and L4 Representative, Quatre Raberba Winner found butt-naked and squashed after attempting to have sex in a hot air balloon with his long-time lover, Trowa Barton.

Trowa shuddered. That would not be good.

Then again…

“I’m in.” He would do it. Of course he would.

He also planned on scheduling a CAT scan first thing Monday morning.


The balloon ride really was amazing. There was nothing quite like it and Trowa was completely awestruck as they coasted over the Taj Mahal. The view was breathtaking. They could see for miles; high enough that the curvature of the Earth was visible. Quatre smiled smugly at his wide-eyed stare.


The blond grinned. “Told you.”

Trowa jumped a little when a sneaky hand latched itself onto his ass and squeezed. He turned and smirked at Quatre’s faux-innocent look.


*five minutes later*

“Oh, Trowa.…”

Chapter Text

Pairing: Heero/Duo

Type: Holiday Fic, Yaoi, Humor

Rating: T

Warnings: None




Stars and Stripes

Heero's first lucid moments on that warm Monday morning in late May had been the tepid breeze that filtered in through the open window, the sunshine in his eyes, and the musical sounds of singing birds outside. He smiled and stretched languidly, relishing in the fact that he had absolutely nothing to do that day. The perfect weather just made it all the better.

He stretched out awakening muscles and groaned at how good it felt, closing his eyes as a warm breeze brushed across his face. The faint scent of freshly cut grass wafted across his nose and he allowed himself to just...feel. It was something Relena had been constantly trying to drill into his head. Stop, relax, enjoy life and all its simple pleasures. He found it got easier the more he forced himself to do just that. It was difficult to retrain yourself, to kick the old habits away. His Perfect Soldier persona had been ingrained in his psyche since he could walk. To become the person you would have been if not for the absolute indoctrination you were forced to undergo, a daunting task, but one he was determined to overcome.

He honestly never thought he'd make it in peacetime. Never believed he could exist in a world that wasn't rampant with war. Believed himself obsolete when allies and enemies alike laid down their arms for the sake of unity.

Of course, he'd had help getting to where he was. Relena had been an inspiring and uplifting presence in his life as well as Quatre. Two of the best friends he'd ever had. Even more so, the close camaraderie he had with Trowa and Wufei also played extremely important roles in his life. He'd been pleased, but not surprised when he'd learned that Quatre and Trowa had finally gotten together. It wasn't easy with both of their grueling schedules, but they managed and Heero was immensely happy for them. They'd overcome a lot to be together, but Heero had always known they would be. After watching their interactions during the war, there was simply no question that they were meant to be.

But, the best part of all had been Duo. Now, if he was to say that anything shocked him, it would have been his relationship with his braided comrade. That was something he'd never seen coming. But Duo had been there when he was struggling so hard to eke out a life during a time when war was no longer necessary. Been there when he was lost, desperately trying to keep his head above water. His arms had been warm, strong, safe when Heero could no longer take it and collapsed under the agony of having no place in a world that didn’t need him.

Duo had let him know he was needed, even wanted. Duo had let him know that the one who needed and wanted him most was Duo himself. To his surprise, he'd discovered that Duo had also been floundering, seeking a place to belong, and wondering what his purpose was in this post-war world. Together they learned that there was a place for them, a purpose, even if it had only been for each other. They clung together in desperation during their darkest moments and learned to let love into their hearts in their brightest.

Everything else just fell into place.

If anyone had told Heero he'd be in love with another man, living with another man in the quiet, almost mundane world of suburban America, he'd have said they were crazy. Yet, here he was, among the flag-waving, corn-fed good ol' boys of the Midwest. Inevitably, they'd adopted the way of life that was so common in this region of the world. They shoveled and salted their driveways in the winter and hung tacky Christmas lights across their gutters during the holidays. In the spring, they planted their gardens and mowed their lawns, and in the summer they ate hot dogs, drank lemonade, and dutifully attended barbeques and baseball games. When fall came around, they raked their leaves, lit jack-o-lanterns for their porch, and enthusiastically consumed everything that was pumpkin spiced.

It was nice. Predictable in ways his life had never been before and he grew to love the easy-going culture of the local community. He'd adapted much more quickly than he could have anticipated, though he'd initially struggled a little more than Duo. Duo had advantages that he didn't. Namely his friendly, outgoing personality, his need for socialization, and, like a chameleon, he knew how to acclimate himself into his surroundings. But Heero eventually got there. It helped to have Duo as a lover. He often acted as a buffer between Heero and the world in those early days, cushioning the blow until Heero himself was ready to emerge into his new life. He was eternally grateful to have Duo by his side and knew he wouldn't be where he was now without him.

"Shit! Goddamn...fucking...hell. Why won't you light?!"

Speaking of which. Heero climbed out of bed and padded to the window. He slid the screen up and stuck his head out, looking for the source of the colorful cursing. He spotted Duo at the grill, angrily trying to light charcoal that just wouldn't ignite. And for good reason. It had been rainy yesterday and Duo had forgotten to put the cover back on from the last time he'd used it. There was no way on Earth that wet charcoal was going to light no matter how much butane he squirted on it.


His lover looked up in surprise before his face split into a wide, but somewhat frustrated grin. "Mornin' Hee-chan!"

"What the hell are you doing?"

Duo waved his hands at the grill. "Trying to build a new Gundam out of this barbeque." At Heero's raised brow, he threw his hands up. "I'm trying to light the stupid thing!"

"It's nine o'clock."

Duo shot him a look that said, Yeah...and?

"Why are you trying to grill so early?"

"Because it's Memorial Day and I want to start the day off right. This is what Americans do on this day and don’t ask me why. I did not make the rules." He clicked the lighter again and cursed when it flickered out. "Damn it!"

"Duo, it's never going to light. The coals are wet."

"I know that! You think I'm stupid?" He tried again. "Arrrgh! Sonofa -"

Heero declined to answer that and pulled his head back inside, closing the screen. Ah, yes. Memorial Day. A popular patriotic holiday, particularly in the Midwest. It was a day of remembrance of America's fallen heroes. In addition to that, it was what the Midwest considered the "unofficial start of summer" which meant picnics and barbeques galore. When he glanced out the front window on his way to the kitchen, he could see the long row of red, white, and blue flags billowing in the breeze.

He stepped into the kitchen and over to the coffee maker, yawning idly as he dumped out the used grounds and scooped new ones into the filter. He slid the filter into the pot and hit the switch, shuffling over to a stool. He plopped down and waited for the coffee, resting his chin on his hand. He hoped Duo wasn't planning on shoving an over-abundance of hot dogs and burgers on him from sunrise to sunset like he had last year. It had taken three months before he could even look at another burger after last summer's Fourth of July fiasco.

He jumped five feet off the stool, his hands automatically reaching for the sidearm that was no longer there when a loud bang went off outside. It was powerful enough that he could feel it through the floor and it rattled the windows. He scurried to the back door to see what had happened and nearly collided with a soot-covered Duo. His braided lover grinned awkwardly, his teeth gleaming white in the blackened char on his face. He looked up sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.

"Eh-heh. Hi, love."

"What the hell did you do?!"

He looked over his shoulder and Heero glanced around him to see the smoking remnants of their barbeque grill. "Well..." He turned back to Heero. "We need a new grill."

He groaned and turned back into the house, in desperate need of coffee now, and dreading spending the rest of the day being dragged from one home improvement store to the next. So much for doing nothing today.

Chapter Text

Pairing: Trowa/Quatre

Type: Fluff, Humor

Rating: T+

Warnings: None

Notes: Written for the dialogue prompt: “Oh my god, you have a concussion, stop trying to flirt with me.” by omgsterekplease







Honestly, it could have been a lot worse, but to hear Cathy and Quatre talk, you would think Trowa had split his head clean open.

He had no idea what went wrong. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t a top-notch tightrope walker. He had that shit down to an art form. Piece of cake. But, for some reason, whether the spin of the Earth was off, or there was some minute tremor that he hadn’t felt, whatever disruption in the status quo it was, he’d lost his footing.

He distinctly remembered the swooping sensation in his stomach and his arms, under the pretense that he could actually fly, pinwheeled in a desperate attempt to keep from being flattened on the ground below. Then, a split second moment of, Oh, shit. This is going to hurt. 

And that had been all she wrote. He’d tumbled from the wire, the surreal whooshing of the wind in his ears and the ever-increasing closeness of the dirt floor, and then splat!

A few cracked ribs and a concussion later and he was being treated by his sister and his lover as though he was incapable of wiping his own ass. Which he was. Very capable, thank you very much. 

Again, it could have been worse. But if Quatre and Cathy did not stop hovering over him like over-protective hens, he was going to seriously lose his shit.

“Quat, baby. I’m fine. Why don’t you go take a nap. You’re exhausted.”

The blond gave him a look of such offense, Trowa had to bite down on his tongue to keep from laughing. 

“Are you crazy? I can’t leave you alone! What if you fall asleep?”

“I’m not going to fall asleep. I’m not even tired.”

Quatre shifted uneasily. “Not until Cathy gets back.”

Cathy had put Trowa in Quatre’s charge until she was finished running errands and Quatre had taken to his duty like an eager rookie desperate to please his superiors. The fact that Quatre had established some strange habit of staring holes into his head for the past hour was seriously starting to creep him out. 

“I’m promise I won’t fall asleep.”

But Quatre shook his head. “Nope. Nice try, but I’m not going anywhere until Cathy gets back. If something happens to you under my watch, she’d kill me and I’d never forgive myself.”

Trowa honestly didn’t know what could possibly happen in the next half hour that would be so detrimental to his recovery, but Quatre wasn’t taking any chances. 

Trowa tried another tactic in an attempt to lighten the somewhat maudlin mood that had settled over the trailer like a dark cloud. He smiled and leaned back into the soft cushions of the chair and propped his chin on his hand. “Have I told you how much I love your hair like that?”

He wasn’t playing, he really did. Quatre had grown it out some. The bangs brushed against his chin and the pretty blond waves Trowa was so fond of almost reached his shoulders. It was a beautiful look on him.

You would have thought he’d just insulted Quatre’s mother for the look he got. The blue eyes narrowed dangerously, his voice laced with suspicion..

“What are you doing?”

Trowa shot him a confused look. “What?”

“What? No, that. What? What are you trying to do?”

“I’m...complimenting you?”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m not?”

“No, you’re - I don’t know what you’re doing, but it’s not going to work.”

Trowa was clueless, blinking at his lover owlishly. “What’s not going to work?”

“You’re trying to - to flirt with me!” And why did Quatre sound so offended by that?

Trowa was at a complete loss here. Cautiously, “Yeaaah?”

“Oh my God, Trowa! You have a concussion! Stop trying to flirt with me!”

Trowa stared at him, gobsmacked. “Why can’t I?” Was there some fundamental rule about flirting with a concussion that he didn’t know about?

Why? Because - because it’s dangerous!”

Okay, this was getting out of hand. “Quat, love, flirting is not dangerous.”

The blond sputtered. “But, it could lead to sex!”

“Yeaaah? My dick still works, you know.”

Quatre’s face flushed beet red, his hands flying up to cover it. “I cannot believe you. You are in no shape for sex, Trowa.”

“Why not? I can just sit here and you can climb on up -”

“Oh my fucking God, Trowa!” Quatre shot up off his chair. “You need to lie down. You’re not feeling well.” 

“Quat...babe -”

“Lie down.” Quatre practically pushed at his forehead until he was reclined. “Let me get you some ice. I’d better call the doctor -”

“I’m not sick, Quat. I’m fucking horny.”

“Not until you’re better,” Quatre told him in an infuriatingly patronizing voice. Trowa winced as a freezing cold ice pack settled over his face, closing his eyes in exasperation. 

“For fuck’s sake...”

Chapter Text

Pairings: Trowa/Quatre

Type: Introspective, Yaoi

Rating: M

Warnings: Mentions of past [emotional] abuse

Notes: I needed to channel my own trauma into something productive so I decided to manifest it into a little drabble.



Don't Fear the Dark

For Quatre, the dark was always a double-edged sword. It enveloped him with long, twisted talons and gripped him with terror while he endured his father’s rages. Cowering in his bed at night while he, pissed on the bottle, would tower over him, only a dark silhouette against the window, larger than life and spitting hate and condemnation.

You killed her.

It should have been you.

I could have made so many more like you in the lab.

I told her to abort. Told her you would kill her with your sinful existence. But she never listened to me and now she’s gone. The best thing that ever happened to me is gone because of you.

It makes me sick just looking at you.

You’re replaceable. You’ve always been replaceable.


On the flip side, the dark encased him in a feeling of safety, anonymity. His demons couldn’t see him in the void and he used it, like a shield, a blanket, against the voices who constantly reminded him of what he was.

A pawn. 

A killer.



It was no wonder Quatre had grown up a bitter, angry child. Resentful of everyone around him. His sisters were no help in that respect either, echoing their father’s vitriol. They couldn’t understand why he was so special. A Godchild, the only one born naturally and in their culture, a pariah, a curse as his very existence resulted in death. He was a symbol of bad luck in his family, a talisman, a broken mirror.

The silver spoon in his mouth was barbed with thorns dipped in crimson and it wasn’t much of a loss when he’d been disowned for joining the war efforts. Not much of a loss for either side.

It had been a shock when the leader of the Maguanacs had slapped him and told him to take pride in himself. Take pride for what exactly? That he’d been groomed despite his father’s hatred, for WEI’s convenience? That he was an accident? A tragic, horrific accident? That he’d killed his mother? 

Maybe the Maguanacs had something to be proud of, but Quatre didn’t. Not until he sat in the cockpit of a mobile suit for the first time and did something entirely of his own volition. Made his own decisions and saw them through. 

That was the first time he’d actually been able to see himself as a human being.

The second time was after meeting Trowa. For within the quiet boy, he’d seen the same sense of worthlessness and made a vow to show Trowa how valuable he really was. And in doing so, he’d learned to find his own worth, his own value.

But the nights were still hard and by the end of the second war, he and Trowa had taken their relationship to the next level. Trowa had been perplexed when he found out that Quatre had needed a nightlight to sleep. Upon asking the blond why, Quatre had cryptically responded, “So I can see the enemy.”

It wasn’t until two years later that Trowa finally discovered what he meant and had made his own vow to show Quatre that there was no reason to fear the dark.

It had taken time and patience, but Quatre eventually got there. With strong arms, soft words, and even softer kisses, Quatre’s tension when the lights went out gradually began to fade. His racing heart and shallow breaths began to slow, and with Trowa’s love and devotion, he finally learned not to fear the dark.

Chapter Text

Pairings: None

Type: Political, Introspective, Duo POV

Rating: T

Warnings: Uh...Gundam pilots arrested, charged, and convicted of war crimes, if that counts as a warning. 





Listening to the entire laundry list of crimes you're being charged with is a strange experience.

Listening to the 'guilty' verdict of the crimes you're being charged with is...quite frankly, surreal. 

And I don't mean that in the sense that it's good, but it is humbling in a way. Some might call it poetic justice, though Fei was more inclined to refer to it as injustice. 

Either way, there's not much one can deny when you know damn well how much blood you have on your hands. And we did. A lot of it. See, it didn't matter that we were kids. We were Gundam pilots, or as the prosecutor was so fond of saying, 'terrorists'. It didn't matter that we, for all intents and purposes, brought an end to the tyranny and oppression of the colonies and essentially brought peace throughout the Earth Sphere. It sure as hell didn't matter that the world was a better place for having fought for it.

We still had to pay for our crimes. It didn't matter that we'd already paid our debts to society.  

That was the bottom line. It's amazing how self-righteous people can be, especially when they spent the duration of the war hiding in bunkers while shaking their fingers at those of us who sacrificed everything to do what was right. It's easy to be sanctimonious when you don't have to get your own hands dirty. 

But see, I get that. And I can't honestly say if our positions had been reversed, that I wouldn't have done the same thing. Of course, with the exception of Quat and Fei, the rest of us weren't shit. Me and Tro and Heero were nobodies so no one really batted an eye when we were ushered to the front of the courtroom. The fascinating shit was watching their reactions, their sputtering outrage, when the upper class, scholarly Chang Wufei and the heir to the great Winner dynasty, Quatre Raberba Winner were brought forth in their prison uniforms with their wrists and ankles shackled. The fact that people of such privilege would just throw it all away for the bloody trenches of war.

It was unheard of. 

Yet, there were two shining examples of it right in front of their sniveling faces. Yeah, how's that for a bitch slap of reality. 

It was especially delightful when neither of them showed even a sliver of remorse and stayed strong in their belief that they'd done what they had to do to achieve peace. It was beautiful watching the special prosecutor practically pound his chest with indignity. 

Oh, yes. The very nerve. 

It probably didn't help his case that he hadn't done jack shit to aid in the efforts to obtain peace. He knew exactly what we did. That his own privileged background was being compared to Quat and Fei's and, in the eyes of the public, the general consensus was not in his favor. He was being measured up to two of the five biggest war heroes of all time and he did not like the results.

Fuckin' politicians, man.

So, yeah. I guess we're convicted war criminals now. Ain't that a bitch. But, you know, we'll take our punishment for the actual crimes we did commit and we'll keep our noses clean. Sometimes you just gotta suck it up.

I will say this. It's fuckin' glorious stepping out of the courthouse to a huge mob of people cheering and holding up banners that say they love and support you. Goddamn, but that felt good. As I speak, the appeals are already dropping into the tribunal's lap by the truckload. We aren't stupid. We knew this whole dog and pony show was just a way for those who sat by and let everyone else do the dirty deeds feel better about themselves. That whole we're-prosecuting-because-it's-the-right-thing-and-you-must-answer-for-your-part is just a bunch of bullshit. The people get it. Even after months and months of pacifist propaganda, they still get it. 

Because most of them were in the trenches themselves, or love someone that was. 

And that, dear Prosecutor, is something you will never take from any of us.

Humans first, Gundam pilots second, our convictions will die with us.

Chapter Text

Pairings: Trowa/Quatre (if you squint really hard maybe)

Type: Drama

Rating: T+

Warnings: This story touches the concept of slavery, but does not delve deeply into it.

Notes:  I kept it to a drabble, but I had to write it. It was just too good to pass up. xD

There are no names used, but obviously I meant this to be Trowa and Quatre. There’s not really a pairing written here, per say, but if you want to see it that way, then by all means. ^_^

Written for Tumblr photo prompt




He was a warrior and a saint. He was the jewel of Nadior. As beautiful as he was mysterious. He was revered and reviled in equal measure. A traitor to his own kind. He’d usurped his kingdom, his sword and hands sullied by the blood of royalty.

He was a slave.

The adulescens was forced into servitude despite the mandated penalty of death for the assassination of noblemen. The people of the kingdom praised him as much as they spit on him. He was paraded before the masses, clad in only a concealing veil made from the melted remnants of his most prized possession: his sword. His weapon became his burden, his shame. To hide the face of the one who’d brought chaos among them.

But his eyes remained uncovered. Outlined in kohl to accentuate the deep green of his irises, they were his showcase. The windows to the soul that had murdered in cold blood.

He was placed on the auction block and forced to endure the poking and prodding of his handlers. Forced to listen as the men of the kingdom vied for possession of him. He kept his head held high and his eyes forward. Anything that could be construed as a sign of weakness, buried down into the deep reaches of his core.

He watched as a young blond man calmly outbid even his most fiercest competitors. When the gavel struck the anvil, he was pushed off the platform and handed over to his new master along with a warning. He was a violent and unpredictable beast. A savage, they said.

The blond merely smiled, his hand wrapping around the end of the chain connected to his neck.


He obediently followed, staring at the back of the golden head of his owner, wondering what happened now.

The boy led him back to his home and he was surprised to learn he was allowed to sit on the furniture. He cautiously lowered himself into a chair, waiting to see if he was being played with. When he wasn’t punished for his position, his shoulders released an infinitesimal amount of tension. The boy unhooked the veil at the back of his head, the tinkle of chain mail loud in the otherwise quiet room. He blinked as the veil was removed from his face and resisted the urge to rub the sweaty indentation at the top of his nose.

“There. You are free to come and go as you please. You are no slave here.”

He glanced up, despite being trained not to, his eyes swimming with questions. The boy smiled down at him, head nodding in affirmation.


The boy rested a gentle hand on his shoulder, a gesture of friendship, camaraderie.

“Because you liberated an entire kingdom of oppressed people. Including me. From one former slave to another, I thank you and I wish to return the favor.”

Chapter Text

Pairings: Treize/Une

Content: Introspective (Une POV), Hurt/Comfort

Rating: T+

Warnings: Dependence





Une traced a finger along the rim of her wine glass and stared out the window into the dark night beyond. She had a brief moment of reprieve, an evening of calm and quiet which was rare these days. Treize was in the next room, sleeping off a bout of jet lag. It was raining, she noted absently. The pitter patter of water drops against the glass was soothing, hypnotic. 

She idly let her thoughts wander as often happened when there were no distractions that demanded her attention. She recalled a heated conversation she once had with her estranged sister, Miidi. The subject of which was slumbering peacefully a few feet away. 

Une had slapped her. Her own sister. Because Miidi had warned her about the dangers of being involved with men like Treize. Une did not want to hear it. Was furious that Miidi dared presume to know what went on between them. 

She hadn’t seen her sister since. Miidi left shortly after that. Une could still remember the dispirited look on her face. The disappointment, the hopelessness. What had struck Une the most was the fear. Her sister feared for her, for her safety. But she’d been too furious, too defensive of the man she was in love with to allow it to sway her.

The thing was, she knew it. She knew he was toxic. Dangerous. Knew he might well kill her. It wasn’t enough to deter her. He was her drug, she knew that now. She craved him like an addict craves their fix. When she went too long without him, she felt sick, tired, consumed with despair. She was an addict. Utterly dependent. He, the poison she couldn’t get enough of. Harmful, but a deadly necessity.

And she was painfully aware of how pathetic that was. If there was anything her mother had taught her, it was never to lose her soul to a man. Thankfully, her mother was no longer around to witness her downfall. Though, Miidi had been which was almost as bad. 

She sighed, an exhausted, resigned sound, and set her wine glass on the table. Her muscles were sore and achy from enduring the long flight back to Sanq and a hot shower seemed like the perfect remedy.

She punched the nozzle and held her hand beneath the spray to gauge the temperature and stepped in. The heat immediately went to work soothing the fatigue in her body. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, letting the water stream over her face and head, getting lost in sweet relief.

She never heard the slide of the shower curtain and jumped when calloused hands closed over her sides. She tilted her head back up and wiped the water from her eyes, blinking up at the man who was her everything, the source of her pain and pleasure. Her breath stuttered with giddy excitement when his arms curled around her back and pulled her close. The sturdy warmth of his body and the soft slide of his skin was both comforting and exhilarating. 

He knew when she was distressed. He always did. Maybe he used it to his advantage, but in times like these, it didn’t much matter. He provided exactly what she needed, so attuned to her body, her heart. His eyes, usually so frigid, devoid of emotion, were warmed though by the heat of the shower, or from feeling, she couldn’t be sure. It was enough. It had to be. In this brutal war, you took what you could get and she counted herself lucky for the companionship and strong embrace of a man she cared so deeply about. She rested her face against his clavicle, kissing the wet skin with reverence, her hands sliding up the muscular back.

She suppressed a whimper when a hand stroked over her hair. His lips rested beside her ear, soft breaths loud despite the sound of water running. She allowed herself to be lost in his embrace. All was well, for now. Soon they would be back in the midst of bloodshed and death, the belligerent world of politics. But now, there was peace, silence, and love.

Maybe he would kill her. Maybe she would kill him. Maybe their enemies would kill them long before they got to each other. The future was uncertain, a dark, unpaved road, but one thing was certain: She needed this man like she needed air to breathe, like she needed water to drink, and food for sustenance. He was her element, deadly as he was. Her sin and her virtue. And she would live and die by his word until the end.

Chapter Text

Pairings: Treize/Une

Content: Smut, Dom!Une, Sub!Treize, Slight D/s, Pain Kink

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Slight D/s, Pain Kink, A little gore, Perverse ideals, but then again, it's Treize/Une so of course there is. xD





Une blew the smoke away from the smoldering muzzle of her pistol and holstered it, walking away from the still twitching body of the insolent soldier and his gobsmacked friends with a sharp click of her heels. It wasn’t like it was a big loss. The little pissant was as sexist as he was stupid. He honestly didn’t think she would overhear him mumbling obscene remarks to the other soldiers about her relationship with Treize? About Treize himself?

That he’d somehow found out about Treize’s penchant for submissiveness in the bedroom was unforgivable. The nerve of that sniveling little lowlife. It had taken only an ounce of effort and a fuck load of satisfaction to pull her gun from her holster and place the cold muzzle against his forehead. The look in his eyes when he realized he’d fucked up in a way that had just cost him his life was exquisite. His mouth gaped and trembled in shock and fear, but no words came out. There was a curl of her lip and then she pulled the trigger. His snickering buddies were now on brain detail, cleaning up the remnants of their friend’s head off the floor and walls. 

It was a bit of a disappointment that he hadn’t begged for his life. She knew he wanted to. He was just too frozen in terror and she simply didn’t have the patience to wait, nor the will to listen to any ridiculous, or disingenuous excuses.

No one could ever know and live to talk about it. The Treize they saw, the Treize who was cold, calculated, malicious, and always in command, became a completely different person behind the privacy of closed and tightly locked doors. He became a mewling, needy, worshipful boy. He was all eager hands and sloppy kisses. He needed her firm hand to quell him, to show him his place. 

He learned. Oh, yes. He learned how to please his Mistress, even when it took the spiked point of her heel pressing into the sensitive flesh of his balls, he learned. And he loved every second of it. Begged for it with eyes, upturned in pleading desperation, soft words imploring for more pain. He was always hungry to be hurt in some way and he thanked her through his tears when she felt generous enough to oblige him. The pain made him ravenous for sex, burying his face between her thighs like a man starved. She would grip and pull that golden brown hair, wrapping the short strands around her fingers as he pleasured her with his mouth. 

When she had enough, her sharp commands would break him from his stupor. He knew not to go right for it. He had to earn his right to sink his manhood into her body. He would suckle at her inner thighs, kiss his way up her belly, fondle and make love to her breasts with hands and lips. He would wait for her to hook a leg around him, knowing that was his cue, and then plunge inside. He would shudder and groan with his mouth clamped around her nipple and fuck into her with wild abandon which she always allowed, loving it as much as he did. 

She loved how desperate he became when he fucked her. He fucked her like he needed it to live, like it would kill him if he didn’t. She coveted the strong fingers that would dig into her hips, the hot breath against her neck, the sweet sound of slapping skin. He moaned and bleated, helpless to sensation as he sought his climax within her. The repeated press of his cock would inevitably lead to her own, throwing her head back as her pussy flushed with warmth and lubrication. Satisfied, she would lie back and let him lift her legs into the air, pounding into her until his muscles went rigid and he roared through his orgasm.

The sex was hot, heady, incredible, but afterwards was always her favorite. The times when he would lower himself on top of her and kiss the soft skin of her breasts with reverence. Grateful that he was permitted to sate his desires inside her. Grateful that she knew him so intimately and didn’t judge. That she indulged him. That she protected his secret. 

In public, he was the boss, the tyrant, the regal dictator, but alone with her, he could be anything and everything he ever wanted to be. It was his Achilles’ Heel, his weakness, and the only one he entrusted it with was her. It was her honor, as his subordinate, his trusted confidant, his lover, to guard that secret with not only her life, but the lives of everyone around them. 

And she knew, there was no greater love, or trust than that.

Chapter Text

Pairings: Heero/Relena, Zechs/Noin

Contents: Grief, Tragedy, Hurt/Comfort

Rating: T+

Warnings: Mental illness, Dissociative Identity Disorder, PTSD, Mentions of past child abuse (not Heero, or Relena)

Notes: Inspired by a conversation I had with @simulacraryn which gave me the idea for this prompt.



 Nothing More To Say

It was sort of common knowledge that Milliardo had a few screws loose. Relena just wished she’d known how bad it was. For the longest time, she’d always chocked his split personality up to an alter ego, nothing more. A disguise he used to protect the Peacecraft name and reputation. She should have known, even though Heero had repeatedly told her she couldn’t have. 

What was already the result of childhood trauma, a trauma she’d been mercifully spared being raised by the Darlians, was only intensified by the trauma of war. What she believed was something he was fully aware of turned out to be something he could not control. It wasn’t until Lucrezia phoned her in a panic, saying he’d taken off and she couldn’t find him that Relena realized how serious the situation was. Lucrezia informed her that he’d been behaving erratically, like an Epyon-induced Zechs Merquise, not her husband, Milliardo.

Thankfully, Heero was an adept tracker and he pinpointed Milliardo’s location near the Franklin Bridge just outside of town. It was with hearts plunged in icy terror that they took off for the bridge, the fear that he would have jumped before they even got there, unspoken, but in the forefront of all their minds. Relena focused on comforting Lucrezia while Heero broke every traffic law trying to get to his brother-in-law. 

To their relief, he hadn’t jumped, but to their despair, they found him pacing, naked in the snow covered banks near the entrance of the bridge. He was babbling incoherently, his eyes unseeing and unable to recognize them when they approached. Lucrezia tried to reach him, to get him to come to her and instead of responding to his wife, he jumped back, paranoia in every angle of his body. He shouted at them to stay back, threatening to jump if they came any closer. It took Heero disappearing off to the side and sneaking up behind him, immobilizing him with strong arms. It was a popular restraining method used among law enforcement, reserved for those who posed a danger to themselves, or others. Something he was accustomed to doing as a Preventer. He successfully subdued the unstable man and they were able to get him into the car and take him to a hospital.

Milliardo was instantly evaluated and admitted when the doctors discovered the state he was in and quickly reserved him a bed in a psychiatric facility fifty miles away. He was sedated while they prepped him for transfer. His family spoke to him with gentle, reassuring tones as he drifted in and out of consciousness, strapped to the gurney with heavy restraints.

Lucrezia begged them to allow her to travel with him in the back of the ambulance, but the doctors refused, citing the dangers. She rode with Heero and Relena to the psychiatric hospital in silence, tears streaming down her cheeks. Relena sat in the backseat with her and held her hand. She had no words of comfort, or reassurance. It was probably a blessing because she had the feeling that Lucrezia was not in the mood to hear false proclivities about how he would be fine. There was an ominous sense that things would not be fine, though Relena tried to keep her thoughts optimistic. 

She could feel that same sense of doom coming from her husband and it was confirmed when their eyes met in the rear view mirror. Heero’s eyes were dark, somber, and filled with resigned worry. Relena had the suspicion that what ever was going on with her brother had been going on much longer than she realized though she didn’t question Lucrezia about it. It wasn’t the time. 

The head psychiatrist approached them a couple of hours after their arrival. He’d surmised upon his examination that Milliardo was suffering from a severe case of PTSD and Pathological Dissociative Identity Disorder. His ability to stay in touch with reality was disintegrating rapidly and unless they were able to effectively treat the condition, Milliardo would continue to deteriorate. 

The problem was, conditions like this, especially in severe cases like Milliardo’s, did not have a good prognosis. The doctor told them it was always good to have hope, to keep the faith, but that they needed to be realistic. In nearly one hundred percent of cases, the patient wound up living the remainder of their life in an institution. He reassured them they would do what they could, but not to get their hopes too high.

Lucrezia went into hysterics, screaming and shoving at the doctor, cursing him to every level of Hell. She cursed Milliardo, she cursed herself for not getting him help sooner, she cursed the war, and she cursed Relena’s birth parents for the abuse they’d inflicted on him. She collapsed after she’d gotten most of the rage out of her system and Relena held her as she wept through her grief, great gasping sobs that tore at her heart. The doctor offered Lucrezia a shot of Valium and Relena advised her to take it, which she did reluctantly. 

They left a short time later. The ride home was quiet, the mood grave. Lucrezia was asleep in the back. She would be staying with them for a while. Relena stared out the window, watching the dark outline of trees against the night sky, feeling utterly gutted. She’d just gotten her brother back. Had just started to get to know him and now she was losing him again. He would never be what he could have been, should have been. 


She glanced over when gentle fingers tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Heero’s expression was sad, concerned for her and Lucrezia. She tried for a smile and grasped his hand, kissing his knuckles, so glad he was there. Her love, her rock, her shelter. “I’m okay.”

He squeezed her fingers, his hand warm and strong, comforting. “We’ll get through this. Don’t lose hope. There’s always hope.”

Relena didn’t say it, but in this case, she didn’t believe there was. It was just the way of things. Sometimes life gave you a taste of joy before cruelly snatching it away. She supposed she should have been grateful that she’d had him in her life, no matter how briefly. It was better than nothing. But she couldn’t deny she was bitter. Angry. For herself, for Lucrezia, for her brother. The life he should have lived, pulled out from beneath him like a rug. It was so unfair. So goddamn unfair.

She didn’t pray. There was no point. After everything she’d seen, everything she’d been through, she knew there was no one there to listen, to answer. Life was just cruel. It was just the way it was. She pressed her lips together and turned back to the window. There was really nothing more to say. 

Chapter Text

Pairings: Trowa/Quatre

Content: Yaoi, Fluff, Cheese (Like melted Velveeta, man. It's cheesy)

Rating: T+

Warnings: None




The Archer

Trowa blamed Cathy. Her sudden and unexpected obsession with the Zodiac was the reason why he found himself killing time in his trailer between performances reading the tarot and mapping out Quatre’s horoscope.

He found his own rather fascinating as well and was surprised to discover it was almost unerringly accurate. Moody, caring, and nurturing, he realized how much he identified with his Cancer sign. He was calm like his element, soothing like the gentle ripple of water that washed along a sandy shoreline. Thanks to Cathy, he now knew when his birthday was and he didn’t realize how much he’d craved to know that until he finally possessed the precious information.

Of course, being Roma, astrology was a staple of their culture, but neither he, nor Cathy had given it much stock until recently. Cathy had had her fortune read several months back and Catalina, their resident fortune teller, informed her that she would soon meet her future husband. The fact that Cathy did indeed meet the man she would marry only three weeks later had sealed the deal in her mind. 

Quatre had laughed when Trowa first did a tarot reading on him. Giggled when Trowa’s finger traced lightly along the lines of his palm, the touch tickling. He’d said Trowa looked so cute when he was concentrating on his predictions, his brows converged in intense focus.

But, what Trowa most enjoyed were the readings of Quatre’s sign. It was beautifully fitting. The Archer. Extroverted, driven, optimistic, philosophical. True to his fire element, he was strong-hearted and feisty. These were just some of the traits that Trowa had come to love in the blond.

Sharing a quiet moment curled up in Trowa’s tiny bed with the sheets tangled around their legs, he would take the hand of his love and read his palm, gently kissing the soft spots and the callouses. Quatre would smile fondly at him, his eyes sparkling in the dim lighting.

“And,” *kiss*, “this one,” *kiss*, “says you will marry me someday.” *kiss*

Quatre tilted his head, his expression playful. “Does it now?”

“Only if you say ‘yes’.”

“Trowa Barton, are you proposing?”

Trowa’s face was flushed, his trepidation obvious. “Maybe…yes.”

Quatre turned his palm back to face Trowa. “And does this line have your answer?”

He examined the skin closely. “It does.”

“And what does it say?”

His lips curled up, the smile spreading across his face, the joy reaching every nook and cranny in his body. “It says yes.”

Chapter Text

Pairings: Trowa/Quatre

Content: Drama, Dark

Rating: M

Warnings: Abuse (emotional and physical), Violence, Unhealthy Relationships

Notes: I have to stress here that this is not how I believe their relationship would actually be. This was challenging to write for that very reason, but I wanted to explore the darker realm of how a relationship can go horribly awry. I also love to torture my favorite characters. 





The things that mattered most were sometimes the things that hurt the most. Incompatible was not a word that was often used in Quatre’s vocabulary. He was a firm believer that anything was possible. Especially when it was something you truly wanted. Not wanted on the surface like a whim, or an impulse purchase, but something you wanted so badly, you couldn’t live without it. Couldn’t imagine getting through a day without living and breathing it.

It was how he’d come to feel about Trowa. It was the first thing, the only thing that had ever made him ache deep down with a desperate need that couldn’t be contained. Being without him just wasn’t an option.

He knew Trowa felt the same, but the simple fact was, they were like two opposites sides of a coin. Different like night and day. While the opposing forces could sometimes be magnetic, drawing them together in their shared feelings of love, there was a repelling side that left Quatre confused and disoriented.

It led to friction between them. There were times Trowa wanted distance. It was something Quatre couldn’t quite understand. Not even his empathy could give him insight, though he surmised that might have had more to do with the fact that Trowa had learned to block him when he decided he needed space. 

Ultimately, when coming together led to a heated confrontation, instead of facing it head on, which was Quatre’s way, Trowa’s way was to retreat. He would disappear for days at a time, giving Quatre no indication of where he was, or what he was doing.

Trowa had the infuriating gift of blending in. Like a chameleon, he could acclimate himself anywhere, into any situation. Merge with his surroundings and move about undetected. It was what made him such an accomplished infiltrator. His acting skills were bar none, fooling even the most shrewd of his enemies. He could go anywhere, do anything, like it was second nature. For him, it was.

Unfortunately, that made him impossible to find when he didn’t want to be found and Quatre would spend the duration of that time fretting himself into a tizzy until Trowa decided he was ready to return. He never disclosed what he was doing, or who, if anyone, he was with. That left Quatre with his imagination which was never a good thing. The scenarios he’d find himself coming up with would only serve to make his paranoia worse. He convinced himself that Trowa was off somewhere, sharing someone else’s bed, which left him irrationally pissed off. It didn’t help that Trowa always returned with an unshakable calmness.

Under the impression that Trowa was feeling good because he’d spent the past week in someone else’s arms while he was pacing a hole in the floor, Quatre began to employ his own gifts in an attempt to get a rise out of his frustratingly placid lover. His knack for finding Trowa’s weaknesses and using them against him seemed to be the only way to dig under that hard shell and get to the plethora of emotions simmering beneath.

And Quatre was ruthless about it. He held nothing back when he attacked, using his talent with words and his supreme intellect to isolate Trowa’s insecurities and rub them in his lover’s face.  

He was unerringly good at it. Too good. He could still remember how his ears rang and his neck ached for nearly a week after an open-handed slap across his face that left him dazed. Despite the pain from the physical blow, he’d been almost sadistically pleased that he’d gotten an actual response instead of the typical stoicism. 

After a while, it seemed to be the only response he could get outside of arousal and his need for emotional interaction, even negative, took precedent over his ability to rationalize that this was not healthy for either of them. 

His tongue was his weapon and he wielded it mercilessly, cutting through Trowa’s defenses and knocking his walls down with bull’s eye precision. He was rewarded with slaps in the beginning, which eventually evolved to punches once Trowa discovered that Quatre was thriving off it. He wanted to hurt just as much as he was hurting, not realizing that Quatre was doing it because he was hurting. 

Things escalated on a warm August night several months later when Quatre had hit below the belt in a way he’d never done before. Trowa had seen red and before he could even think about what he was doing, he had Quatre by the throat, squeezing the literal life out of him. It had taken seeing those blue eyes, the eyes he loved so much, disappear behind fluttering lids, patches of red dotting the whites, to snap him out of his rage-induced haze. 

Quatre didn’t remember much from that night. Being nearly strangled to death had left a hole in his memory. He took Trowa’s word for it. Despite the physical blows, Trowa had never lied to him. Apparently, he’d had to administer mouth-to-mouth because Quatre had lost consciousness and wasn’t breathing by the time he was let go.

As much as they realized that they were hurting each other, as much as they were both intelligent enough to understand that what they were doing wasn’t healthy, they could not find it in themselves to walk away. They loved each other just as ferociously as they hated each other. That was the crux of the matter. The repelling forces were no match for their gravitational pull. 

It was familiar, it was a necessary evil. They were irreversibly damaged and there was no one else that could handle what the other was ready and willing to inflict. The possibility that they could kill each other was a daily mantra, but it wasn’t enough to keep them apart. In a way, it was their own poetic justice. Two unwanted, corroded souls providing the other with what it needed: The need to feel alive until the time came for them to breathe their last breath. Their deaths, just like their lives, belonged to each other.

Chapter Text

Pairings: None

Content: Humor, Crack

Rating: T

Warnings: Attempted homicide? xD





When Wufei trusted Nataku to Maxwell so he could repair the faulty wiring, he should have expected the braided idiot would do something nefarious. Oh sure, the wiring was fixed. The complicated array of electrical lines now fully supplied the necessary juice to the power modules of his Gundam and the unnerving sparking had finally ceased. That was all well and good, but Wufei had not expected to find giant pink bows super glued to the sides of Nataku’s head, nor did he expect to see the tips of her fingers and toes painted in a gaudy hot pink. And was that glitter?

He closed his eyes, breathing steadily through his nose and trying valiantly to invoke his meditation exercises to quell the impending homicide he was on the verge of committing. 

“I think she looks pretty, Wufei.” His copilot, Winner, stood next to him, fidgeting nervously. Was this actually the blond’s best attempt to make him feel better about the desecration of his Nataku?

He shot the tentatively smiling boy an incredulous look. “You need to lay off the sauce, Winner.”

He strode forward without waiting for a response and swiped a rather large socket wrench off the Gundam’s foot that had been forgotten by his soon-to-be-dead copilot. He swung the potential deadly weapon, testing the weight in his hand. Oh, yes. That would do just fine.

“Oh, Maxwell…” he said in a sing-song voice. He caught the prankster peeking at him from between Nataku’s fingers. 

“Oh, hello…Fei. Eh-heh.” He patted the curled up index finger. “Got ‘er all fixed up for ya.”

Wufei tapped the wrench in his palm, smiling like the Cheshire cat. “Yes, I can see that. Why don’t you come down here so I can thank you properly.”

Maxwell’s eyes widened and he pointed to himself. “What? Now? Oh…it wasn’t nothin’. You don’t need to thank me.”

“Oh, but I do. Come on down here.”

Quatre attempted to intervene. “Wufei, please. Let’s not -”

“Stay out of this, Winner.”

“You know, Fei…that’s really not necessary. Your friendship is all the thanks I need.” Maxwell was slowly skulking down the arm of the Gundam, making his way towards the catwalk where he could make an escape. 

“Maxwell -”

“See ya!” He took off at a run, disappearing behind Nataku’s head. Wufei could hear the stomp of his boots on the metal catwalk and he sprung into pursuit, waving the wrench over his head.

Quatre watched the Chinese pilot tackle the American and try to throttle him with the leftover pink ribbon Duo had used to make the bows for Nataku’s head. 

“I’m glad I didn’t tell him I’m the one that supplied the ribbon and paint.” He turned and walked back towards the base for a much-needed cup of tea.

Chapter Text

Pairings: Treize/Une (possibly one-sided)

Content: Introspective, Split Personalities

Rating: T+

Warnings: None





The light hurt her eyes. That was the first thing that reached her sluggishly burgeoning awareness. She blinked and turned her head away from the window, cursing the stabbing sensation that seemed to reach all the way to the back of her head. Her hand felt cold as ice and she lifted it with an alarming amount of effort, peering through the slits of her crusted eyelids. A catheter was embedded into the layers of skin on the back of her hand and held firmly with medical tape.

Cognizance swept across her disoriented mind like a fierce gust of wind and she bolted upright, gasping when her torso screamed in protest. She clenched her teeth and leaned back against the pillows, panting until the pain subsided a little. She fumbled a shaky hand across her body, feeling for the large padding of taped gauze beneath her hospital gown.

Tubarov. That son of a jackal had shot her. That Romefeller sleazeball had had the actual nerve to shoot her! Who did that little weasel think he was? She’d only done what Treize would have wanted.

Treize. Had he been there to see her? How long had she been out? She fumbled with clumsy hands for the nurse’s button in a desperate need for answers.

“Nurse!” She coughed, her voice was hoarse, scratchy from disuse. “Nurse!

A stodgy woman in a pristine white nurse’s uniform waddled in with a giant smile on her face. Une narrowed her eyes. No one had the right to be so perky when she was feeling like shit run over twice.

“Welcome back to the land of the livin’, Milady! It’s good to see you’re up and ready to face the world again!” She had a strong Dublin accent that made Une absurdly think of leprechauns. 

“I’m not so sure about that yet,” she grumbled.

“Oh, now don’t be such a grumpy little chipmunk.” Une did a double take at that. Chipmunk? “It’s quare warm today. If you’re feelin’ up to it, we’ll take ya down to the courtyard for some fresh air.”

Une shot her a half-hearted glare. “Are you always this obnoxious?”

The woman was unruffled and offered her a sunny grin. “It’s me job to lift the spirits of me patients.”

Une brushed her bangs off her face, grudgingly acknowledging it worked. A little. “You’re doing a bang up job.” She hesitated, smoothing out the sheet across her lap. “Has Mr. Khushrenada come to see me?”

The nurse paused, her expression one of contemplation. “Mmm…I do not believe so, Milady unless he came when I wasn’t on me shift. But, I’m sure one of the other nurses would have told me if such a handsome gentleman had paid us a visit.”

She nodded and looked away. It wasn’t surprising, but she couldn’t avoid the disappointment that settled like lead in her chest. It was just as well. She didn’t want him to see her like that. She’d been weak, ill. Not something she wanted the love of her life to see. 

The last time she’d spoken to him, he’d expressed concern over what he called her “double life”. It wasn’t something she was willing to address and she’d feigned ignorance in the face of her own worry over her increasingly disturbing split personality. 

She was reluctant to admit it, but he’d been right. Her persona as Colonel Une had become somewhat of a loose cannon. She was beginning to jeopardize Treize’s goals with her callous and ultimately vicious actions, often not even thinking of the consequences before she implemented them.

“I’ll be bringin’ yure lunch in shortly and you’re not due for pain meds for another hour. You seem to be doin’ just fine, Milady. Is there anythin’ else I can do for you until then?”

“No. Thank you. I’ll be fine.”

“Alright then. Rest up and I’ll be back soon to check up on ya and see if we can get you outside to enjoy some of that sunshine.”

Une nodded absently and the nurse waddled out of the room with a squeak of her tennis shoes. She wasn’t sure why, wasn’t sure if it was the pain medication, or the coma, or the near-death experience, but she felt a clarity within her mind that she hadn’t felt for a long time. There was a peace there after war had been raging within her and while it was confusing, it was also elating. Perhaps her two personalities had negotiated while she’d been asleep. Come to some sort of compromise. She knew they were both still there. Her wish for peace and diplomacy just as strong as ever while the Colonel wanted Tubarov’s blood and vowed to get it by any means necessary. 

But perhaps the two opposing sides had shaken hands and agreed to a stalemate. Or maybe even a treaty. She only hoped whatever it was would last. Despite the hole blown into her body, she felt healthier than she had in a long time. She leaned back and gazed out the window, a small smile tugging at her lips.

If she could make peace with herself, then there was hope for Earth and the colonies.

Chapter Text

Pairings: None

Content: Humor, Crack, Holiday drabble

Rating: G

Warnings: None





Quatre twisted his fingers together nervously as he watched Duo dump almost the entire bottle of lighter fluid onto the haphazardly arranged charcoals. 

“Duo, are you sure you need that much?”

Duo shot him an annoyed look. “Who’s the chef here?” He rotated his arms in a tight circle, finishing off the bottle with a dramatic flair. “There!” He tossed the bottle over his shoulder where it bounced across the grass and fished a Bic lighter out of his jeans pocket. “Who wants to do the honors?”

He scoffed as the other four pilots turned tail and ran for the house. “Aw, come on! You bunch of babies!” He grumbled as he flicked the lighter, swiping his finger through the flame. “Jeez, for Gundam pilots, you guys sure are wusses.” He lowered the flame to the charcoals. “Alright, get ready for the best BBQ in to -”


The other four pilots watched from within the safety of the house as Duo went flying across the yard and through the garage window. 

“Whose turn is it now?” Asked Heero.

Wufei sighed. “Mine. I’ll get the fire extinguisher.”

Chapter Text

Pairings: Heero/Relena (implied)

Content: Drama, Supernatural, Death

Rating: T+

Warnings: None





The first time it happened, Heero didn’t think anything was unusual. A few occurrences seemed strange, such as Quatre saying something Heero was absolutely positive he’d already said, or the fact that Duo dropped one of those gooey iced danishes down the back of Wufei’s shirt for what seemed like the fourth time. There was the exact same look that Trowa had given him when they crossed paths in the hallway and the eerily familiar lecture Director Une had given them that morning.

At the end of the work day, he climbed into his car and drove the same route home that he always did. He soon realized it was the night he was never going to go home again. That had been his last thought before the headlights rushed towards him with a speed that he knew was much faster than it seemed, and collided with the side of his car, snapping his neck in two. That, and, I’m so sorry, Relena…

When he woke up the following morning, he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that he was alive when he shouldn’t have been, though he couldn’t remember why. The déjà vu he experienced throughout the day began to raise red flags in his mind. Increasingly confused and alarmed, he turned to Quatre whose insight always seemed to put things into perspective. His blond friend was oddly unruffled by the bizarre tale Heero wove for him and shrugged as he stirred his coffee with a plastic straw.


Heero narrowed his eyes. “I’m sorry, what?”

Quatre smiled and sipped his coffee. “Widdershins. You did something wrong. Something that disrupted your fate. Nature is turning back the clock on you until you get it right.”

“Quatre. You can’t honestly expect me to believe that.”

Quatre’s eyes gleamed with a strange wisdom that never failed to send shivers down Heero’s spine. 

“It doesn’t matter what I believe, Heero, nor does it matter what you believe. Nature is doing what needs to be done until you fix whatever you’re doing wrong.”

He scoffed. “I don’t believe in fate.”

Quatre waved his hand. “Fate doesn’t care what you believe.”

Heero studied him closely, trying to figure out if he was being played with. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

Quatre stepped closer, so close Heero could feel the heat of his breath. “You need to fix what ever cosmic blunder you’ve gotten yourself into, or else you will continue reliving the same day over and over and over again.”

“But, how can I if I don’t know what I did wrong?”

Quatre shrugged and turned towards the door. “Then you’d better figure that out, shouldn’t you?” 

Chapter Text

Pairings: Heero/Relena, Trowa/Quatre, Treize/Une

Contents: Humor, Crack, Fluff, Cheese

Rating: T

Warnings: None




Senior Antics

Morning began as it often did at Sanq’s Shady Oaks Retirement Home for veterans. Unlike most retirement homes, this one housed former Gundam pilots so an ordinary day was about as un-ordinary as it could get. If Duo wasn’t busy starting food fights in the cafeteria with the creamed broccoli, he was seen shuffling down the hallway in his slippers and flannel robe, cackling like a madman with Wufei’s dentures in his wrinkly old hand. Wufei could generally be seen, and heard, several feet behind him, pushing himself along on his walker, slurring obscenities and threats through a toothless mouth.

This life has been one hell of a ride, Heero mused as he leaned back in his wheelchair and observed the latest television cartoon series based on their roles in the war. God, but they just got worse every time they made a new one. He glanced at Relena when she patted his hand and smiled as she went back to her knitting. She had always been terrible at it, but Heero just didn’t have the heart to tell her that. Her once blond hair was now stark white and piled on top of her head and he watched as she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders and tapped her needles back into place.

Treize’s shaky voice drifted across the room as he crossed the threshold and padded over to one of the easy chairs, sitting down gingerly and Heero winced when he heard the man’s joints pop. “This humidity is terrible for my hair.”

Une shuffled in a moment later, scoffing, and sat down in the opposite chair with her book. She slid a thick pair of readers onto her nose. “You don’t have any hair anymore, you bald geezer.”

Treize lifted a spotted hand and gently touched his equally spotted head. “Shit.”

“I like lasagna day,” Quatre piped up from the sofa. “Is it lasagna day?” He asked Trowa who sat beside him. Trowa shook his head and patted his love’s knee. 

“No, Quat. It’s not lasagna day.”

“Oh,” Quatre sat in deep contemplation for a few moments, then looked back at Trowa. “I like lasagna day?”

Trowa nodded, his infinite patience never wavering even when Quatre’s senility became so bad he didn’t even know his own name half the time. “Yes, you do.”

“For Christ’s sake,” Zechs grumped from the other couch, having woke from his fifteenth nap of the morning. “Yes, you like lasagna, we know. You’ve only said it six times in the last hour.”

Quatre gave him his customary blank stare. “Do I know you?”

“I remember the lasagna they used to serve at my mansion,” Treize murmured from his chair, his expression wistful. “Nothing but quality ingredients and that expensive cheese that cost five hundred pence per ounce.” His mouth turned down into a sour pout. “Not this tasteless mush they serve you here.”

“If you ate that crap now, you’d be farting everyone out of the building,” Une muttered, not looking up from her book.

Treize shot her a watery glare. “All the more reason.”

Heero glanced around the room at his peers, his friends, with a sense of nostalgia. They’d all been through hell, fought the same battles, faced the same demons, and here they were, living out the remainder of their lives, together, in peace. It was a beautiful thing.

“Maxwell, get your wrinkly old ass back here and gimme back my teeth!”

Well, relative peace.

Chapter Text

Pairings: Duo/Hilde

Content: Humor, Crack

Rating: G

Warnings: None





Duo stood before the giant reclining Gundam and scratched his head. For some inexplicable reason, a muscle beneath his eye began to twitch. “You did what?” 

Quatre’s head appeared around the mecha’s massive hip plate and he blinked at his braided friend. “I repurposed Sandrock.”

Duo stared at the vast array of colorful flowers that were now blooming in abundance out of every possible crevice, nook, and cranny of the mobile suit. And was that a pear tree growing out of the cockpit? “Uh huh.” He craned his neck at the sound of rushing water and spotted a cascading waterfall that flowed out from a spigot that was wedged in the Gundam’s mouth and drifted down over its chin, into a waiting hand, and then down into a small retention pond. “Are those carp?” He asked as he gazed down into the pool where a few dozen fish swam beneath the surface that was littered with water lilies.

Quatre stepped around Sandrock’s elbow and stood next to Duo, drying his hands on a rag. “Goldfish. Carp aren’t very decorative.”

“Uh...huh. And…why did you do this?”

The blond shrugged. “Seemed more energy efficient than detonating it. This way, we get to give back to the environment.” He shot Duo a sunny grin. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

Duo grunted and propped his hands on his hips. “If you say so, buddy.” In a way, it was a genius idea and he wondered why he hadn’t thought of it. And Quatre was right. It was more energy efficient. “Where did you get the idea to do this?”


“Pin what?

“Pinterest. It’s an online pinboard. Lots of ideas for upcycling and repurposing projects. You might want to check it out.”

“Quat, I’m not going to start growing flowers out of my discarded scrap parts.”

The blond nodded and turned away, clearing a clump of algae away from the pond’s filter. “It’s just as well. That site is pretty addicting.”

Later that night…

Hilde shuffled into Duo’s tiny office, yawning and running a sleepy hand through her short hair. “Babe, what are you doing? It’s three in the morning.”

Duo sat in his chair, his wide eyes glowing in the light from the computer monitor. “Hey, Hilde. Check this out. You can make flower planters out of old tires. We have lots of old tires.”

Hilde leaned forward and peered over his shoulder. “Are you on Pinterest?”


She rolled her eyes and left the room. “Oh, wonderful. I’m going back to bed.”

Chapter Text

Pairings: None

Content: Humor, Crack, AU

Rating: T

Warnings: None





The God of Death propped his feet on top of the long golden table and popped a few ripe, juicy grapes into his mouth. “C’mon, Fei, why not? You’re the God of War.”

Wufei shot Duo a dark look over the golden roast goose that sat between them. “I’m not the God of War, you simpleton. That’s Heero, remember? And get your feet off the table! People eat here.”

Duo pondered with a finger on his chin while decidedly not removing said feet from the table. “Oh yeah. That’s right. So…what are you the God of again?”

“He’s the God of Steel, you fool,” Heero piped up as he walked into the room. He shoved Duo’s feet off the table. “That’s disgusting. I don’t want my supper tasting like your feet.”

“Say, why do we eat anyway? We’re Gods. Aren’t we like, above all that?”

Wufei rolled his eyes and peeled the skin off a leg of goose, dropping it onto the table beside his plate with thumb and forefinger. Heero sat down next to Duo and unfolded his napkin into his lap. “We eat because we can. We eat because there’s food.”

“We eat because Quatre has an obsession with making it and for some reason, we don’t want to hurt his feelings,” said Wufei as he picked at the meat.

Duo reached across the table and swiped the discarded skin. “You’re throwing out the best part.” He popped it into his mouth and chewed it loudly. 

Wufei’s face contorted into an expression of revulsion and he dropped his meat onto the plate. “Thanks for killing my appetite.” He grabbed a large orange instead, peeling it with careful precision.

“But where does it go after we eat it? Don’t humans like…poop…or something? If we eat, why don’t we poop?” 

Wufei threw his uneaten orange down and leaned back in his chair. “You just had to bring up human bodily functions, didn’t you?” He picked up his wine chalice, praying to Zeus that Duo wouldn’t ruin that for him, too.

Heero folded his hands over his empty plate and eyed the braided God. “Do you want to poop?”

“Yuy!” Wufei shrieked. “Can you not?” Heero glanced at him, shrugged, and swiped the carving knife, slicing some goose for himself and Duo. 

Duo was pondering again, tapping his fingers on the tablecloth. “I don’t know. Sure, why not? I’ll try anything. It might be fun.” 

Wufei dropped his face into his hand and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Only you would think that.”

Duo glanced back at the ornery God, his expression hopeful. “So…can you?”


“Why not?”

“Because I’m not the damn war God!”

Duo turned big, pleading eyes on Heero.


“But -”

“No. I am not starting a war just so you can reap souls. Boredom is not a justifiable excuse.”

Duo leaned back in his chair, pouting. “You’re no fun. It’s not like Tro can’t make more humans.”

“Not the point.”

Trowa appeared a moment later with a large bowl of steaming rice and set it down on the table. He pulled his chair out and sat down. “What’s not the point?”

Wufei snorted. “Don’t ask.”

“Heero won’t start a war for me, Tro,” Duo whined. “I need something to do!

“Why don’t you find a hobby, or something, like Quat?”

Duo sulked and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not going to start cooking.”

“You don’t have to cook. Find something else.”

“I want to reap souls! It’s what I was made for. Tro, you’re the God of Life. You can just make more people, can’t you?”

Trowa spooned some rice onto his plate, shaking his head. “People aren’t toy soldiers, Duo. They are individuals. They each have their own unique minds and abilities. They’re not replaceable. I can’t make the same person twice. That’s not how it works.”

“And I will not start a war just because you’re bored. War is reserved for serious matters.”

Duo snorted. “Oh yeah right. Like the time that one guy invaded a kingdom because the dude from the other kingdom shacked up with his woman. Yeah, real noble there, chief.”

A muscle in Heero’s jaw twitched. “I didn’t say noble. I said serious.”

“Riiiiight. Like there aren’t enough chicks in the world. Why didn’t he just tell them both to screw off and find himself another woman?”

Heero shook his head and took a sip of his wine. “Love is Quatre’s department.”

“You’re talking about me?” The blond God of Love stepped into the room, a silver platter topped with a giant multi-layered cake in his hands. “What did I do this time?”

“Hey, Quat, why do people attack each other when they love someone?”

Quatre set the cake down and brushed his hands together. “Love is not rational, Duo.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s a strong human emotion. The strongest one there is. It makes people do irrational things.”

“I would think hate, or pride is the strongest emotion,” said Wufei.

The blond God shrugged his shoulders and reached for some fruit. “Pride is a strong emotion, but there’s a thin line between love and hate.”

“Why do you have to be so lyrical?”

Quatre smiled as he raised his chalice to his lips. “Because I’m the God of Love. The God of Poetry, Music, Sonnets, Romance -”

Duo held up a hand. “Yeah, okay we get it.” He picked up his wine. “Love is nice and all, but Death is where it’s at.”

Wufei toyed with his fork, a sour expression on his face. “I don’t know why I got stuck with steel.”

Quatre cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you guys get to be the Gods of cool stuff like Life and Love and War and Death,” he pointed to each one in turn. “What did I get? Metal.”

“Metal is an important element, Wufei,” said Trowa.

“Why couldn’t I be the Sun God, or something?”

Heero eyed him sharply. “Because Zechs got that and he’s older than you.”

Wufei grumbled, but didn’t argue further. The Gods enjoyed their meal in relative silence until dessert. 

“So, Heero. About that war…”

Chapter Text

Pairings: None

Content: Humor, Crack, Pseudoscience

Rating: T+

Warnings: None





The notion of life after death was never more repugnant than when Treize’s body was excavated from his tomb and laid out on the steel table in the hopes that the ragtag group of OZ survivors and sympathizers could reanimate it. Une had forgotten how vile the smell of death was. She unfurled her cravat and pressed the cream colored silk against her nose and mouth, desperately trying not to barf up her pasta salad lunch. She observed the turncoat, Doctor J, with sharp eyes as he sliced open the dead man’s arteries to drain out the formaldehyde.

“And just what are you planning to use for blood?” Her voice, though tinged with disgust was muffled as she spoke through the fabric she held over her face.

Doctor J’s tongue poked out from between yellow teeth as he worked. “We have an abundance of his blood left over in cold storage that he saved in case he needed it and we are able to clone his DNA cells to synthesize more.” 

Une grunted in acknowledgement, a little miffed that she hadn’t known that. “And then what?”

Doctor J placed a tiny plastic tube into the small slit in the side of Treize’s neck. Attached to the other end of the tube was a machine and when Une leaned over the table to look beneath it, she could see at least a dozen clear plastic bags filled with blood. Doctor J pressed a small button at the base of the machine and grinned like a shark when it hummed to life. She watched the blood rise up the tube and disappear into Treize’s body with a sense of morbid fascination. 

“What about his brain?” Zechs asked from beside her. A quick glance revealed that he’d also pulled out his cravat to protect his nose and mouth against the stench of rotting flesh.

Doctor J held up a narrow syringe, half full with a yellow liquid that made Une absurdly think of piss. “My own little secret ingredient. Concocted by the most brilliant of minds that I -”

“Just tell us what it is, Doctor. No need for theatrics.”

The mad scientist grumbled and popped the cap off the needle. “It generates new, living cells when it comes in contact with dead ones. Everything from blood, to skin, to hair, to bone, to internal organs. I will use this pump to start the artificial heart I’ve implanted into his chest. Once it’s circulating the blood I’m putting into him, I will inject him with this.” He grinned and swiped his hand in front of the syringe in a manner reminiscent of a spokes model, his yellow teeth gleaming under the bright surgical light that hung overhead. “It will pump through his bloodstream and create living flesh, organs, skin, you name it. Including his brain.”

“He won’t stink then?” Asked Zechs, elegant brows raised in question. 

Une scoffed and shot him a heated glare. “Have some respect, you pompous pouf.” 

“Says the woman who’s just as grossed out as I am.”

She sniffed. “You are such a -”

“Shut up, both of you,” J snapped. He dragged a finger delicately along the line of thick stitches that ran the length of Treize’s chest in a manner that was rather creepy. “In a moment, I will start the heart and then I will inject him with this,” he swiped his hand in front of the syringe again.

“Will you stop that? You’re not peddling your abomination of a…of a…dead bringer backer.”

“Is that the scientific term, Colonel?” Zechs simpered. Une valiantly suppressed the urge to smack him. 

J started up the pump and flipped on a large monitor that was mounted on the wall. “There it is. Look at that. Beautiful.” The artificial heart was pumping away, looking exactly like its organic replica.

Zechs rubbed his cravat against his nose, his voice nasally when he asked, “Where did you get that thing?”

J shrugged and popped a toothpick into his mouth. “Ebay. Free shipping.” He watched the monitor for another moment, then turned back around and picked up the syringe. “Alright, everything’s a go. Prepare to watch the magic happen.” He savagely plunged the needle into Treize’s chest, hard enough to make both Une and Zechs cringe when they heard the needle pierce through bone. J pressed the plunger down and the piss yellow liquid disappeared into the dead commander.

J wasn’t kidding when he said ‘watch the magic happen’. It was truly a sight to behold. The pasty, wrinkled, sloughed skin began to glow a faint pink, then tightened and plumped. The color gradually began to resemble that of a living person. Treize’s dull, limp hair also seemed to spring up with new life. In less than five minutes, the dead man looked as alive as the lab’s living occupants. Une reached out and brushed her finger along his arm and gasped at the feel of warm, living flesh.

“That’s…amazing!” She couldn’t believe the old quack had actually done it. 

J preened under the praise. It wasn’t every day Une was impressed by something, so this was an accomplishment.

The Colonel and Lieutenant both jumped back in alarm when a loud hiss escaped from Treize’s mouth. 

J held up his hand. “Relax. He’s just breathing.” He paused, seeming to realize what he said. He lifted his head, his bizarre little goggles glinting under the harsh light. “He’s…breathing,” he said again, his voice hushed with awe.

Une and Zechs watched with arched brows as the mad scientist raised his arms high into the air, threw his head back and shouted, “He’s breathing! He’s…alive! You hear that, Professor G? I beat you! You owe me five thousand credits, you frizzy haired prick!

Chapter Text

Pairings: Trowa/Quatre

Content: Smut, Humor, Crack

Rating: M

Warnings: None




The Cat In Quatre

“Ohhh…Trowa, yes…YES YES YES!

Wufei sputtered and choked on his tea. He hunched over the table, coughing hysterically with his closed fist over his mouth. Duo grinned and slapped him on the back.

“Drink it, don’t aspirate it, Wu-man.”

Heero was leaning against the kitchen counter by the window, holding his own mug of tea. He was watching Wufei cough up a lung with rather blasé expression. “You know, Duo. That actually doesn’t help.”

Duo gave Wufei’s back a hearty thump and looked up, confused. “What doesn’t help?”

“That, you idiot. Hitting people on the back when they’re choking doesn’t help. You have to do the Heimlich maneuver.”

Ohhhhh…” Duo sprung up out of the chair, the scrape loud over the spasmodic coughing. He stepped behind Wufei who was waving his arms in an attempt to ward him off and wrapped his arms around the Chinese man’s torso. “Alright, Fei. Hang on. I’ll save you!”

Wufei’s voice was strained, reedy as he struggled to speak. “I don’t - *cough* need - *cough* the Heimlich, *cough*, Max - *cough* well!”

Duo yanked his arms despite the protesting, jolting Wufei who was trying to reach behind himself to bat the braided pilot away. “Don’t worry, buddy. We’ll get it out.” He yanked again and received a clumsy smack to the side of his face. “Ow!

“I said I don’t - *cough* need it, you fool! There’s nothing *cough* stuck in my airway!” His coughing seemed to be subsiding now. “Let go of me, damn it!”

Duo gave one last yank before he stepped away. “There! All better now?”

Wufei spun around on his chair and glared at the braided man. “Don’t you ever do that to me again, Maxwell. I don’t care if I am choking to death.”

“Jeez, that’s the last time I do you any favors,” he grumbled and walked back to his seat.

A snort alerted Wufei and he glanced up sharply to see Heero laughing and trying to hide it behind his mug. “Stuff it, Yuy.”

“Oh, fuck. Trowa!

Duo snickered. “Who knew Quat was a screamer.”

Wufei’s face contorted in revulsion. “Maxwell, can you not?”

“What? They’re just doing the dirty. You know? Something humans have been doing since the dawn of time? Don’t be a prude, Fei-man.”

Wufei’s cheeks bloomed a bright pink. “I’m not a prude,” he muttered.

“Trowa! Oh…oh God!

“Heh. Trowa puts the Cat in Quatre. Haha!” Duo slapped the table and threw his head back, cackling loudly.

Wufei and Heero exchanged confused glances. “That doesn’t make any sense, Maxwell.”

“It does if you know Tro.”

“The hell does that mean?”

Duo looked from one pilot to the other and scratched the back of his head. “Er…Trowa calls his…you know,” he waved his hand in front of his groin. “Cat.”

“Oh, Christ. That was much, much more than I needed to know. I’m going for a walk.” Wufei stood up and walked out of the kitchen, blushing fiercely.

“I’ll join you.” Heero seemed to be sporting a similar shade of flustered and followed the Chinese man out.

Duo shrugged and finished off his coffee. “Well, I thought it was funny.”

Mmm…Trowa. Fuck, yes.”

Chapter Text

Pairings: Duo/Heero

Content: Smut, Humor

Rating: M

Warnings: None




First Times


Their first time hadn’t been anything like he’d thought it would be. Heero was, for some inexplicable reason, entertaining thoughts that pertained to soft music, flowery words, and silky touches. Satin sheets covered in rose petals, strawberries and champagne, and all the bells and whistles that emulated the perfect “first time”. 

And because of that, he promptly smacked himself in the head because this? This was not him. Heero was not romantic. He was practical. Tab A goes into slot B, rinse and repeat until you blow a nut. Simple as that. He wasn’t under any delusions that Duo was even remotely romantic either. For the love of might, the man ran a scrapyard, cursed like a sailor, and ate like a baboon. 

So, it didn’t come as much of a surprise when he went to visit the American after conversing with him on the phone, both of them coming to a mutual agreement that they’d been dancing around each other for four years. There was simply nothing left to do but throw in the towel and fuck. 

Duo was unusually quiet and while Heero generally preferred not to make small talk, he found himself filling the silent gaps with awkward chatter.

“Yeah, so…Relena’s going to become Foreign Minister. I think she’ll be good at it. Of course, she’s been the Vice Foreign Minister for four years, so it’s not like she doesn’t have experience…” He paused, twiddling his fingers nervously. “Congratulations on your scrapping business, by the way. You’re quite successful and I’m sure it’ll be a great -”

“I’m topping.”

“ - way to…What?”

“I said, I’m topping.”

And there it was. The burning question that Heero was reluctant to address. They both had dicks and holes. The crux was whose dick was going to be inserted into whose hole. He tipped his head at the braided man who was sitting across from him with his elbows on his knees. Duo’s eyes glinted under the garage’s florescent light as he stared at him and Heero couldn’t help but feel mildly offended.

“Now, wait a minute. Who gets to decide that?”

“I do. I’m topping.”

It wasn’t that Heero was adverse to bottoming. He’d certainly fantasized about it enough times, but it was the principle of the thing. “What if I want to top?”

Duo stood up and dug into his jeans pocket. Heero watched him pulled some loose change out and rifle through it, picking a shiny quarter out of the pile. “Want to flip for it?”

“Excuse me?”

Duo waved the quarter around. “Flip for it. Heads, I top. Tails, you top.”

Heero glared and leaned back, folding his arms over his chest. “I’m not relegating my virginity to a coin toss.”

Duo shrugged and stuffed the change back into his pocket. “Fine. I top.”

Heero stared at him for several minutes, debating on whether he should postpone this until they had it sorted out better, or just give in. 

“Fine. You win.” Let it be said that Heero wasn’t a quitter. 

Twenty minutes later, he was drooling onto the headrest of a skeletonized car frame. His chin rested on the worn, dirty fabric of the back seat and his half-lidded eyes stared at a greasy catalytic converter several inches from his face while Duo fucked into him from behind. And, okay, it wasn’t what he’d imagined before he came to his senses, but there was a certain romantic element to it, if one could consider getting your cherry popped in a garage surrounded by machine parts romantic. 

Actually maybe romantic wasn’t the right word. But it was deliciously invigorating all the same. He murmured in delight when a rather hard thrust pressed Duo’s cock into his prostate and he bit down into the seat, his tongue picking up the faint tinge of dust and motor oil. He whimpered, feeling exquisitely debauched as Duo’s hips slapped loudly against his ass, savoring his deep, rough grunts every time they made contact. 

He came embarrassingly quick, rubbing his cock against the seat and draping himself over the back, letting his muscles go lax as his body was flooded with a warm buzz. Duo leaned over him, thrusting wildly and bit down into the sinewy flesh of Heero’s shoulder, groaning emphatically through his climax. Heero had enough energy to smile like a dope as Duo went limp against him, panting into his hair. 

Things were definitely less awkward after the fact and Heero lounged against the seat with his chin propped on his hand, watching Duo pull the condom off his cock and tie it off. He winced when the braided man tossed it across the room and heard the splat as it hit the cement floor. Duo caught his disgusted look, his own expression clueless.


Heero snorted and shook his head, reaching for his clothes. “Nothing.”

Some things never changed. 

Chapter Text

Pairings: None

Content: Drama, Newtypes

Rating: T

Warnings: None

Notes: For funambulate's drabble fest chain who prompted Quatre and Colors.






For the longest time, Quatre couldn’t understand why his father could not see the colors that clung to the people around them. Wrapped around their bodies like a halo of glowing blues, greens, reds, yellows, white, and even black in some cases. Zayeed had blamed Quatre’s nanny and fired her for “filling the boy’s head with fairy tales and mysticism”, insisting that her purpose was only to educate the child in the subjects of academics and etiquette.

The five year old was furious, especially when he’d repeatedly told his father that Miss Akhira had done absolutely nothing to influence him. Quatre had watched the colors of his father’s aura flash and change in rapid sequences that his young eyes had trouble keeping up with. The anger and frustration and lack of understanding was felt deep within his heart, his father’s emotions so strong, they’d had a physical impact on Quatre’s tiny body. The child collapsed, his muscles twitched and convulsed in the throes of a seizure and he was immediately rushed to L4′s most prestigious hospital where he lay in a medically induced coma for three days.

Upon awakening, he was met with the soft, life-worn face of a woman who’d said she was a psychologist that worked for the hospital and that she was there to help. She put the child through a series of tests. Once she was finished, she summoned his father into the room to explain her findings.

She revealed that she was under the belief that Quatre was a Newtype, an empath with strong elements of clairvoyance and synesthesia. Not surprisingly, Quatre’s father snidely declared that his son was “not a freak”, demanded a second opinion, and left the room, fuming. The counselor offered Quatre a sympathetic smile and handed him a slip of paper with her phone number on it. She explained to him, in secrecy, that she was also a Newtype and that there was no need to be afraid, though she did warn him that because of his abilities, he would have a difficult time navigating through life. He would need to learn special tricks and tools to help him cope with the sensory overload of emotions. She told him he could call her any time and she would be happy to help him any way she could.

Grateful, he slipped the paper into his shoe and took it home, hiding it in a special place in his room where no one would be able to find it. He would call her in the middle of the night, her gentle, reassuring voice putting him at ease. He learned not only how to cope with his abilities, but also how to hone them, sharpen them, and use them to his advantage. She taught him how to read auras and how not to become overwhelmed when another person’s emotions became too much. He learned how block certain things out and compartmentalize others.

If it hadn’t been for her, Quatre would have likely had a dismal childhood of seizures and frequent hospital visits. He never told his father. He learned how to pretend nothing was out of the ordinary. His developing experience in reading auras allowed him to see those that meant harm before they could cause it.

That knowledge became an important weapon when he joined the war efforts. The auras of the Maguanacs were mixed in a wide spectrum of colors which would have been confusing for someone not knowledgeable in reading them. Quatre was able to easily and knew right away that the men were no real threat to him despite holding him hostage. Quatre had seen more nefarious colors cling to his father.

He was not frightened, or intimidated when he met the other Gundam pilots even though outward appearances indicated that he should have been. When he met Trowa, the boy was bathed in a mix of soothing greens and a tinge of black. Quatre was able to separate the colors and decipher what they meant. While there was black, an indication that he was harboring negative emotions and hiding past trauma and a sense of worthlessness, Trowa’s aura predominately glowed a soft green. The tell tale signs of a personality that loved nature and animals. He was a healer, a teacher, a mentor.

Indeed, all of the pilots had echoes of black in their auras, but they were muted by their true selves that shined like beacons of hope. Duo’s was a bright, sunny yellow. Wufei’s was red, the color of fire and passion. Heero’s silver was almost blinding, the mark of someone spiritually pure.

The only sad part of his gift was that Quatre was not able to see his own aura. It was disappointing and he’d often wished he’d asked the counselor. He supposed he hadn’t because he was a little afraid to find out. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

So it came as a bit of a shock, after he’d been snapped out of his vengeful crusade to end war for good thanks to Trowa’s sacrifice, when he’d been helping Heero recover from his injuries, the barely conscious boy slurred through lax lips.

“Your gold is so bright. It hurts my eyes.”

Chapter Text

Pairings: None

Content: Humor

Rating: T

Warnings: None





The 'Innocent' One?


The room was dark, only the flickering light from the television illuminated the occupants sitting on the sofa, staring intently at the screen that was playing some low quality slasher movie. The living room was filled with the sounds of blood-curdling screams and the generic staccato of horror flick music.

Duo turned to his blond friend sitting beside him, eating popcorn, and watching the film with rapt attention.

“This doesn’t scare you, Q?”

Quatre turned to him, quirking an eyebrow. “No, why would it?”

Duo shrugged and stuck a piece of popcorn into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. He glanced at the TV when there was another scream and he watched some scantily clad teenage girl trip and fall in the midst of running away from the serial killer. “I don’t know. I don’t know why I thought it would.” It was strange now, come to think of it. He hadn’t known why he thought that.

Quatre continued to stare at the screen, tossing another piece of popcorn into his mouth. “You know what’s really frightening?”

Duo looked over at him. “What?”


“Fan what?”

Quatre’s head turned, slowly, blinking at him with wide eyes. “You’ve never heard of…fandom?

Duo’s heart pumped against his rib cage, his eyes bugging out of his head. “No. What is it?”

Quatre shifted on the couch until his body was facing Duo’s. He set the popcorn bowl on the coffee table and leaned forward. “Fandom is the most terrifying place known to man,” he said in a low, menacing voice.

Duo was afraid to know, but still morbid enough to ask. “What is it?” He whispered.

“Are you sure you want to know?”

Duo nodded slowly, his eyes unblinking.

“Are you really sure?”

He was almost ready to jump out of his skin. “What?! What is it?”

Quatre produced a flashlight out of nowhere, held it beneath his chin, and clicked it on. It cast eerie shadows across his face and Duo held his breath in suspense.

“It’s a place where girls make up things about us.”

Duo’s voice squeaked as he said, “What kinds of things?”

“Did you know that you have been the bitch of just about everyone we know?”

He shook his head slowly, unable to comprehend. “I have?”

Quatre nodded and Duo gulped as the movement shifted the shadows across his face. 

“You’ve been a stripper, a whore, and a slave. You’ve been dressed in slinky little body suits, booty shorts, and donned in lingerie. They’ve made you pregnant and had you die in childbirth. You’ve been beaten, tortured, raped, murdered, and have committed suicide countless times…”

Duo swallowed around a dry throat. “No…”

Quatre nodded again. “Oh, yes. Just about every horrifying, disgusting, and deplorable thing you can think of, and even some things you probably can’t, have happened to you.”

Duo’s mouth hung open, his body frozen with shock. “Why?” He croaked.

Quatre shrugged. “Who knows? It’s just what they do. It’s a mystery.” He leaned even closer. “You know what else?”

Duo minutely shook his head, speechless. What could be worse than this?

He let out an ear-shattering shriek as Quatre screamed at the top of his lungs. Shaken, he watched as the blond threw his head back and cackled, then swiped the popcorn bowl and turned back to the movie.

Duo glared at his friend as Quatre chuckled and munched on his popcorn.

“You’re a sadistic fuck.”

Chapter Text

Pairings: Zechs/Noin, Trowa/Quatre

Content: Drama, Angst, Deathfic

Rating: T+

Warnings: Major Character Death

Notes: For funambulate's drabble fest chain who prompted Noin and Failure.





Over the years they’d worked together, Noin was able to call him one of her best friends. The relationship began as commanding officer and subordinate, but Noin developed a strong respect for the young man who was not only an exceptional commander, especially at such a young age, but also the kindest person she’d ever had the privilege to meet. She was honored to call him “friend”. 

She’d been there when he was just a boy, grieving over the loss of his comrade. She hadn’t realized at the time, though now in hindsight, she felt she should have, that the missing pilot Zero Three was much more than a comrade, much more than a friend. It took her a little while, but she eventually figured it out. As someone who was pining over love herself, they soon formed a strong bond and often confided in each other over their doubts and insecurities. 

It was Quatre that Noin asked to walk her down the aisle on the day she married Zechs. When Quatre married Trowa, she was his Matron of Honor. They continued to work together after joining the Preventers. Noin was not the least bit surprised when Quatre climbed to the top ranks. It was inevitable really. He was a born leader and he flourished as Deputy Director to Lady Une. Noin herself was one of his Lieutenants and she was immensely proud of that.

She still wasn’t sure what went wrong. It had been a rather routine mission, something she’d done a thousand times. Meet with the informant on the Berlin case and retrieve information on OZ sleeper cells. Une said a spy for the underground organization had discovered that the informant, one of their own infiltrators, was working both sides. 

She should have taken more precautions. She’d let her guard down was the simple fact of the matter. She never noticed the suspicious man who placed an unmarked backpack several tables away from her and the informant. The pub was dark and dingy and they were tucked way in the back, where she’d thought they were out of sight.

The explosion brought half the building down on top of them and the rest of it swayed precariously over her prone body. She was unable to escape, her legs pinned beneath a steel beam and she realized with a sinking sense of regret, that she was going to die. 

Only she didn’t. Quatre had abandoned his surveillance post and came to her aid. He managed to help her wedge her legs out from beneath the beam. She’d clung to him, barely able to walk as they worked their way through the rubble. 

There was a weak cry for help somewhere within the remnants of the pub and Quatre, never one to leave anyone behind, got Noin to safety where she was looked after by their comrades, and went back inside to help the survivor. 

Noin called to him, glancing up as the remaining part of the roof creaked ominously and began to buckle. What happened next could only be described in her mind as surreal. She watched in horror as the rest of the building came down, with Quatre still inside.

He was crushed to death. That was the long and the short of it. She’d been nearly catatonic with shock, the guilt so overwhelming, she refused to see anyone except her husband while she recovered in the hospital for her smashed legs. Zechs was sweet, supportive, but she was too overcome with remorse to comprehend half the things he said to her. 

She was allowed to attend the funeral a few days later, though she was wheelchair bound. It was performed in a Catholic ceremony provided by Duo, despite the fact that Quatre was not Catholic. Noin had a hard time looking Trowa in the eyes and was shocked when he approached her, his eyes puffy and bloodshot, to ask if she could say a few words.

“I - I can’t. I’m so sorry. I would think -”

“You were his best friend. You’re still his best friend. I know, wherever he is, he is not angry with you. And if he’s not, I have no right to be either.”

Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks and she looked down at her hands, folded in her lap. “Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure. Quatre’s forgiven you. I know he has. I do, too. There are so many friends who want to say something in honor of him. You should be among them.” Trowa squatted down and took her hand. “Forgive yourself, Mrs. Noin. That’s what Quatre would want.”

A hoarse sob escaped her throat, her face contorting as she began to lose her composure. If she knew Quatre, and she did, she knew how right that was. But could she really do it? Right now, probably not, but she owed it to Quatre to try.

It was the least she could do for her best friend.

Chapter Text

Pairings: None

Content: Humor, Crack

Rating: T

Warnings: None

Notes: For funambulate's drabble fest chain who prompted Trowa and Challenged





When the funny looking guy with long dreadlocks and a goatee jumped out of nowhere and landed in Trowa’s path, waving his arms and gyrating his pelvis in a way that convinced him the man was on something, Trowa’s instinct had been to knock him out cold. His attempt to spin the lunatic’s head around on his neck was stopped short when Heero grabbed him and yanked him away from the crumpled heap on the ground. 

“Easy. You’re a civilian now. You can’t just go around killing people.”

Trowa’s expression was deadpan when he said, “I was going to put him out of his misery,” which prompted a loud bark of laughter from Duo. 

“Dude,” the braided man drawled. “I think you just got served.” 

Trowa offered his friend a blank look. “Served with what?”

Duo waved his hands. “Y’know…served? As in dance? You just got challenged to a dance off.”


“Trowa,” Quatre said, sounding as though he was talking to a toddler. “When someone jumps out in front of you and starts dancing, your response is supposed to be to dance back, not break your opponent’s neck. You take turns dancing until a winner is declared.”

Trowa stared at the blond for a long moment. “Why?”

Quatre looked incredulous. “Because! That’s what happens when you get served. That’s the rules.”

Wufei scoffed and leaned against the brick wall of a barber shop. “That’s the stupidest, not to mention most juvenile thing I’ve ever heard. Who made up this “rule” anyway?”

Quatre scratched his head. “Erm…I’m not sure.”

Trowa propped his hands on his hips. “And how do you know this?”

The blond looked offended. “Hey, I have street creds.”

Trowa arched a brow as Duo cackled. “Street creds?”

“Never mind. The point is you’re supposed to wait for the signal to start dancing.”

“What’s the signal?”

“When your opponent stops dancing, that’s your cue to start. You do a number and stop, then they start dancing again. This goes back and forth until a winner is declared.”

Heero grunted and chewed his lip. “So who gets to declare the winner?”

“I’ll do it,” Duo piped up.

“You don’t get to decide that,” Heero countered.

“Oh, please! I’d be the best judge.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because I’m the best dancer!”

“Says who?”

“Hey, is anyone going to check this guy’s pulse to make sure he’s still alive?” Wufei inquired. His hands were outstretched towards the unconscious body still sprawled on the sidewalk.

“Why don’t you do it?”

Wufei sniffed. “I’m not touching him. He looks like he hasn’t bathed in days.”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” muttered Quatre. “I’ll do it.” He walked over to the guy and bent down, resting his index and middle fingers against the side of his neck. “He’s good. Gonna have one hell of a headache when he wakes up though.”

Heero decided that was good enough and turned back to Duo. “So who says you’re the best dancer?”


“Who’s “everyone”?”

“The - the - everyone!

Heero scowled. “Not good enough.”

“Fine. Let’s settle this once and for all. Ha!” Duo shouted, striking a pose. They all stared at him as he cocked his hip and stuck an arm into the air, finger pointed at the sky, the index finger of his other hand pointed towards the ground. “Let’s dance, bitch.” He rolled his arms out to the side, rotating his hips in a circular motion before Moonwalking across the sidewalk. Heero watched with his arms crossed over his chest as Duo spun then dropped down into a split and jumped back up with a grace that shocked them all. He spun again and landed with one leg extended forward, his hands outstretched towards the Japanese man. 

Heero balked, “The hell was that?”

Quatre’s eyes were wide with almost comical seriousness. “Dude. You just got served.”

Chapter Text

Pairings: Trowa/Quatre

Content: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Rating: T

Warnings: None

Notes: For a Tumblr photo/gif prompt challenge.





The heart doesn’t lie. At least that’s what Heero had told him once. He’d also told him to follow his heart which he’d done. It was terrifying at the time because his memories had been wiped out thanks to the near suffocation he’d endured while floating through space for the better part of forty eight hours.

But despite his mind not understanding the situation, his heart had known. Had never forgotten that beautiful boy who somehow knew he needed love and acceptance, but approached it with the kind of sensitivity and awareness that indicated he knew Trowa did not want to be smothered. Trowa still appreciated that. Unlike Catherine, Quatre knew when to back off and give him space and when it was okay to get close. He had an uncanny knack for understanding people.

When he approached Trowa near New Edwards and cheerfully greeted him with a sunny smile and a touch of snark, Trowa had snorted and walked away only to pause fifty paces down the boardwalk and turn around. He said nothing, only made a vague gesture with his hand, but it was enough to light up the blond’s face and run to catch up to him.

Quatre was like that with everyone. Always happy to see his friends. Enthusiastically chirping about something, or another and he was never without a smile. Trowa often wondered if he’d ever had a bad day in his life. 

It came as a bit of a surprise when he’d gotten the call from Heero six months after the Eve Wars. Heero, who shared a strange connection with the blond that Trowa still didn’t understand. Duo had once said something about Newtypes and perhaps he was right. Heero had known Quatre was in trouble and he’d known exactly who Quatre needed.

“Go to him. He’s hurting.”

Trowa wasn’t sure what that meant, thinking Quatre had injured himself in some way. “What did he do? What are his injuries? Did he go to the hospital?”

“No, Trowa. He’s hurting…inside. He needs you.”

And that struck him because when had Quatre ever suffered from emotional agony, or been prone to bouts of depression? When had he ever shown a vulnerability like that? He was the strong one, often coaching the rest of them through their own traumas, happily burdening his own shoulders to help those he loved. 

Trowa wanted to kick himself for being under some delusion that it wouldn’t take its toll on the blond. Did he have anyone there for him the way he was there for everyone else? The answer seemed to be in the negative and Trowa’s heart broke for the one who’d always done so much for everyone else and when Quatre needed someone, needed him, he wasn’t there.

“How do you know this?”

Heero’s face was grim in the grainy darkness of the vid screen, but his eyes were pointed. He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. Trowa already knew the reason and he couldn’t help but feel a surge of jealousy. Heero, keen as he was, did not miss it either.

“Don’t be stupid, Trowa. Despite our empathetic connection, it’s you he loves. It’s you he wants. Now stop playing with your balls and go to him.”

Trowa’s mouth curled up slightly. “You hang around Duo too much.”

“Probably. But you know I’m right.”

“Alright. I’m going. I have to square away some free time, but I’ll go.”

“Do whatever you have to do. His pain is so strong, I can feel from here. He’s so distraught, he’s not even trying to block it from me.” Considering Quatre was on L4 and Heero was on Earth, it was indicative of a powerful anguish and that was all the more incentive for Trowa to expedite his trip.

“Let me know how’s he doing.”

“I will. I’ll talk to you in a few days.”


The trip was exhausting considering he’d been in Canada when he’d gotten the call from Heero and public transports seemed to perpetually suck the life out of you. He was practically dragging his feet by the time he reached Quatre’s apartment complex on L4. He nodded to the doorman who tipped his hat as he passed and headed up to the twentieth floor on the brass lift, bracing himself for what he could possibly be met with. He wasn’t good at comforting people. Didn’t even know what he was going to say.

It took several minutes of knocking before he sensed movement behind the ivory door. There was a muted shuffle and then Quatre’s voice, sounding weak, defeated. “Who is it?”

“You know who it is, Quatre. Let me in.”

There was a long pause and then Trowa heard the distinct sound of a chain being slid off its track, followed by the click of deadbolts. The door cracked open and Quatre’s face appeared, barely visible in the dingy darkness of his apartment and the dim lighting of the hallway. But Trowa could see the puffiness around the usually jovial blue eyes. 

Quatre sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “What are you doing here?”

Trowa pressed gently on the door and Quatre didn’t fight it. He backed away to allow Trowa inside, turning around and heading into the living room. The apartment was dark, quiet, but the flickering blue light indicated he had the television on, though the sound seemed to be turned down. He walked into the living room, his eyes taking in the empty food containers scattered about, realizing Quatre had been neglecting cleaning up after himself. Alarming because the blond was always neat and tidy.

There were bed pillows and blankets on the sofa and he idly wondered how long it had been since Quatre had slept in his bed. He peered closely at the blond, noting the messy, unkempt hair and the slight dusting of pale stubble on his cheeks. His clothes were rumpled and looked as though he’d been wearing them for several days.

Quatre gestured vaguely around the room. “Sorry, it’s…a mess.” He rubbed his face and looked up. “You want a drink?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Quatre scoffed. “Tell you what?” Though his guilty expression told Trowa he knew exactly what. He glanced away and slumped down on the couch, resting his elbow on his knees. 

Trowa stared at the drooped shoulders, the weary hunch of his back, and his heart lanced with pain. “Quatre -”

“Just…save it. Okay? I know I’m pathetic. If you came here to tell me that, then thanks. Duly noted.”

Trowa walked around to the sofa and sat down beside him after clearing away the pile of blankets. He faced Quatre and took the blond’s hands in his own, rubbing his thumbs soothingly over the smooth skin. “I didn’t come here to tell you that. And no, you are not pathetic.”

Quatre sniffled again, his voice cracking a little when he asked, “Then why?”

Trowa squeezed the hands in his own, feeling the bones shift under the skin. “I’m here to tell you that I’m here. I’m here for you.”

Quatre’s face crumpled as he lost his composure. No more needed to be said. He wasn’t alone. Trowa took the distraught man into his arms and held him tight as he let go of all the pain he’d been carrying around. He buried his face into the soft hair, and murmured, “I’m here for you. Always. I’m here.”

Chapter Text

Pairings: Heero/Wufei

Content: Humor, Yaoi

Rating: M

Warnings: None

Notes: For Toppy Tuesday.





Heero wasn’t so stupid as to believe, despite his sometimes apparent superhuman strength, that he possessed superior fighting skills in comparison to his fellow Gundam pilots. Most of them anyway. He could easily overpower Quatre, at least physically, but the blond had him beat in the intelligence department by spades. Duo had a better chance than Quatre, but in every sparring session they’d had, Heero always won hands down, much to Duo’s chagrin. Still, he could admit that Duo was capable of inflicting a lot of damage before admitting defeat.

Trowa was most definitely an even match in strength, and probably much better in hand to hand combat. He definitely had better skill and finesse. Heero still remembered the roundhouse kick that busted his nose during an impromptu competition that was initiated and spurred on by Duo. Trowa had been endearingly contrite as he set Heero’s nose and cleaned the blood from his face, apologies dripping from his lips while Duo stood nearby laughing his ass off. 

But his most capable rival was Chang Wufei. What he lacked in strength, he more than made up for with his heavier build and outmatched prowess in the martial arts. He was the one Heero most enjoyed sparring with because not only was Wufei able to tire him out and make him sweat like a sinner at bible camp, they also traded barbs like a prized collection of bubblegum baseball cards. 

“Get ready to be flattened, Yuy. By the time I’m done with you, I’ll have your spandex shorts tied into a pretty bow on top of your head.”

Heero raised his arms and positioned his feet, assuming the traditional wushu fighting stance. He arched a brow at his opponent. “I always knew you wanted to get into my pants, Chang.”

Wufei growled and leaped into the air, spinning and swinging his left leg out, his foot aimed for Heero’s still healing nose. Heero caught the foot and twisted his opponent’s ankle. Wufei flailed and lost his momentum, shouting in pain from his wrenched ankle. He saved face by lashing out with his other leg and driving his knee into Heero’s side. He tucked into a roll as he hit the mats and sprung back up onto his feet just in time to block a punch directed at his sternum. They both jumped back and circled each other, already beginning to pant with exertion.

“You’re going to eat those words, Yuy.”

“Just as long as you don’t eat me,” Heero said as he went in for the attack. Wufei dodged the blow and nicked his opponent’s ear with his fist. 

“The hell’s that supposed to mean.”

Heero shook off the ringing in his ear and smirked at the Chinese man. “What did you have for lunch today? Kung Pow Dog? Or was it Moo Shoo Cat?”

Wufei snarled and lunged forward with a high kick. Heero ducked just in time and delivered a chop to the side of his head. “Fuck!” He shouted, losing his footing a little. He righted himself and attacked again, managing to connect his fist with Heero’s diaphragm. “You’re one to talk, suicide boy. What was it this morning? Jumping off the roof? A toaster in the bathtub?”

“That hurts, Chang,” Heero went in again and hooked his arm around his opponent’s throat, pulling him into a choke hold. Wufei’s fingers scrabbled and scratched at his arm, choking as he gasped for breath. “But I think you’ve got me beat when it comes to moping about your honor.”

He yelped when Wufei’s heel struck his shin. He stumbled and Wufei went in for the kill, launching himself on top of him and pinning him against the mat. He panted in Heero’s face. “I don’t mope, Yuy.”

Heero’s eyes were challenging as he stared up into inky black eyes and waited for the next move. “So then what do you call it?”

Wufei’s mouth curled up at the corners. He dipped his head low, lips lightly brushing against Heero’s. “I call it “getting even”.” He closed the gap between them, pressing their mouths together. Heero allowed the kiss for a few seconds, then heaved his body up, rolling over and pinning the Chinese man down to the mat. 

“You think you’re in charge here?”

Wufei’s face was smug. “I know I am.” His hand crept up and squeezed a spandex clad buttock. “I swear, you wear those things as a diversion tactic.”

Heero shrugged. “Maybe. Why? Do they distract you?”

Wufei snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself, Yuy. I didn’t say it was effective.”

Heero reached between them and pressed his palm against his opponent’s groin, feeling the hard curve of his erection and relishing the sound of Wufei hissing through his teeth. “Who are you trying to convince, Chang?” He gave the hard cock in his hand a squeeze. “Your dick seems to disagree.”

Wufei growled and rolled them again. Heero stared up into his flushed face, the loose tendrils of black silk that had come loose from his ponytail and felt the surge of lust in his own groin. Wufei glanced down and arched a brow at his opponent’s obvious boner. “Speak for yourself, Yuy.”

Heero grabbed Wufei’s face in both hands, too horny to care about this game anymore. “Shut the fuck up, Chang.” He pulled the man’s head down and pressed their mouths together. 

Wufei kissed back, his tongue questing between Heero’s lips, seeking entry. He ground their clothed cocks together, savoring the soft whimper from the man beneath him. He nipped his way over Heero’s cheek and down to his ear, pulling the lobe between his teeth before whispering against the shell, “I’m going to fuck your sweet little ass.”

Heero’s brows drew down in a playful pout. “Why must my ass always get fucked?”

“Because you lost the fight, Yuy. Suck it up.”

“I didn’t lose anything.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

Chapter Text

Pairings: Trowa/Quatre, Heero/Relena

Content: Humor, Crack

Rating: T+

Warnings: None

Notes: So I dabbled a little bit into a socially awkward Heero, which he kind of is. I don’t get all pseudoanalytic, or delve deep into it. It’s just kind of implied that Heero doesn’t always understand social cues, or even knows how to make “appropriate” jokes, nor does he understand the importance of delivery.





The silence of the media room was broken only by the occasional pop coming from the fireplace and the intermittent sighs coming from one Duo Maxwell who was laying on the floor with his socked feet propped against a rocking recliner. He pushed the chair back and forth, causing the brackets to squeak slightly and blinked up at the vaulted ceiling, whistling out another long-winded sigh.

“This sucks.”

Wufei lifted his weary head from his hand and shot the braided man a half-hearted glare. “Yes, we know. You’ve notified us of this pertinent information every ten minutes without fail.”

“Why can’t we watch TV?”

“Because, Duo,” Quatre murmured sleepily from the sofa. “There’s no power, remember? This is the thousandth time I’ve told you that in the last five hours.” He was laying across the sofa with his head in Trowa’s lap and his feet in Heero’s. Both Heero and Trowa were out cold and it looked as though the blond would be joining them in La La Land at any moment. 

“Don’t you have a generator, or somethin’ in this place?”

“We can’t risk sending out any signals tipping off where we are.”

“This is what’s called “laying low”, Maxwell. It’s this, or an OZ prison cell. Take your pick.”

“At least the Ozzies let you watch the WE. I’m dying to know if Lucha Grando is gonna kick Reggie the Squid’s ass.”

“Or they turn off your oxygen and let you suffocate,” Wufei said. “But it’s nice to know you have your priorities in order.” 

“Oh, shut up. God, you’re such a buzzkill.”

“I had no idea you were inebriated, but that explains a lot.”

“Fuck you, man.”

Quatre watched as both of them tensed. “Knock it off, both of you.” He glanced down towards the end of the couch at Heero who was still comatose with his head drooped over his chest. “You wake him, he’s gonna pull his gun on you.”

Wufei snorted. “Yeah, how many times has that happened? He never pulls the trigger.”

Duo chortled and slapped his knee. “I swear, for someone so trigger happy, he’s a real pussy when it comes to actually doing the deed.”

Wufei weaved his fingers together and pressed his hands beneath his chin. His expression was a caricature of someone who was obviously smitten and Quatre decided it was rather disturbing on a face that was typically either angry, or morose. “Oh…Relena. I’m going to kill you…with mylove!

Duo made a loud sound, somewhere between a bark and a snort, then snickered into his hands while Quatre buried his face in Trowa’s leg to muffle his laughter. In addition to the popping of the fire, now the room was filled with the sounds of three teenage boys desperately trying to smother their hysteria.

Duo wiped tears from his eyes, still hiccuping an occasional giggle. “Oh, man! That was good, Fei. I take it back. You’re only half a buzzkill.”

Wufei’s shoulders shook with mirth. He rubbed his hand over his face and glanced up, freezing on the spot when he was met with an intense, blue-eyed death glare. He cleared his throat and tried for casual. “Morning, Yuy. Sleep well?”

Duo sat up instantly, eyes bugging out as he spun on his butt to face the now wide awake Perfect Soldier. An awkward laugh bubbled out from between his lips, his cheeks blooming red. “Hey…eh-heh. Hee-chan, how’s it hangin’?”

Heero’s eyes slid from Wufei over to Duo, though his head never moved. “How it’s “hangin’” is irrelevant, Duo. What were you just talking about?”

Duo hesitated. “How much did you hear?”


“Okay! What? Okay, okay…it wasn’t nothin’. Just having a bit of fun.”

Heero looked more confused than angry. “Making fun of me is fun?”

“Errr…” Duo glanced around for a little help and glared at his partners in crime when he received none. Some friends you guys are. Let’s see if I do you any favors the next time you’re in a bind. “Well, Heero. Sometimes making fun of people can be funny. It’s not meant to be mean, y’know? I mean, I rip on myself all the time. You’ve heard Fei and I do it to each other and even Quat and I have done it. We didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”

Heero looked thoughtful. “I see. So, I can make fun of you then?”

Duo scratched his head. “Uhhh…sure? You can make fun of anyone, I guess.”

“Hm. Okay, I’ll give it a try.” He gave Duo a pointed look. “You’re loud, obnoxious, you have no manners, your feet stink, and you talk about your “junk” way too much.”

Duo’s jaw dropped open. “Uh, okay, but that’s not exactly what I -” 

“You’re too uptight. You have an unhealthy obsession with honor. You patronize women because in reality, you’re afraid of them. You’re ridiculously conceited and that ponytail looks utterly laughable.” Heero had turned on Wufei now and the latter’s face could only be described as hilariously indignant, but he was too stunned to respond. 

Heero turned his head and looked at Quatre who blinked owlishly and pulled his legs closer to himself. “And you. Who are you trying to fool? We all know you love taking dick, or at least want to. Especially his.” Heero nudged his chin at the still sleeping Trowa and how the hell could he actually sleep through all this? “Why don’t you just bite the bullet and ask him to fuck your brains out? God knows you need to get laid.”

Quatre’s face burned beet red, mouth gaping like a fish. He glanced up at Trowa, looking for any signs that he’d heard that. 

Heero seemed completely clueless about what he’d just done, glancing around at the three of them with a guileless expression. “How was that? Funny?” He looked disappointed when he received nothing but a round of gobsmacked faces. “You’re not laughing.”

Duo looked at Wufei who shrugged helplessly. He got up, brushed himself off, and stepped towards the sofa. “Well, um…I think we can all agree that you’re honest. Maybe a little too honest. That’s not quite what I meant though, buddy.”

“What did you mean?”

“I didn’t mean to put people down! That’s not the same thing.”

“Then how do you do it?”

Duo threw his hands up, at a loss. “I…don’t really know how to explain it.”

Heero looked down at his lap, his brows drawn low. “Hm. I guess I just don’t understand.”

“Heero, it’s okay.” Quatre reassured him. “Some people are just better at that than others and anyway, we really shouldn’t make fun of people. It’s not nice.”

Heero glanced back up, his eyes settling on Wufei. “Do I really look and sound like that?”

Wufei shifted in his chair, looking a tinge uncomfortable. “Well…no, not exactly. I was exaggerating. To, you know, make your little obsession with Relena funny.”

Heero chewed his lip in contemplation. “So, like…” he trailed off and stood up, squaring his shoulders and puffing his chest out. He rested his fist over his heart and dropped his voice to a deep sounding timbre. “Onna, what do you think you’re doing? The battlefield is no place for you. I will not dumb myself down to accommodate weakness.” He glanced around at his friends with a hopeful look on his face. “How was that?”

Duo clapped his hands with a laugh and nodded his head, looking decidedly impressed. “That’s it! You got it! That was actually really good. You sounded just like Fei.” He glanced over at said boy, taking note of his twitching left eye. “Didn’t he sound like you?”

Wufei was dubious. “Yeeaaahhhhh…” He cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other and his arms over his chest. He didn’t bother to conceal his petulant expression. “But can you do Maxwell?”

Heero took a moment to think about it, then loosened his posture, shaking his arms out to relax them. The other three watched as he slouched his shoulders and were shocked when he reached down and scratched his crotch. “Hey, man,” he said, sounding uncannily like Duo. He tossed his head and continued, “It ain’t like they’re gonna shoot us from three kilometers away. Let’s just blow that shit to kingdom come and get outta dodge. I got half a dozen cheeseburgers with my name on ‘em and they ain’t gonna eat themselves.”

Quatre had a surprised grin on his face as he looked over at Duo. “That’s amazing! He sounds exactly like you.” 

Duo ignored the blond and glared at Heero. “Alright, I’ll give you that. What about Quat, though?”

Heero moved his body into a more closed up position, bringing his feet together and squaring his shoulders again, though not haughtily as he’d done when he mimicked Wufei. He fidgeted with his hands and blinked suddenly giant eyes. “Oh…guys, please don’t fight!” He said, adopting a softer, higher pitched voice. “Wufei, it’s nice that you want to practice your swords, but could you wait until after everyone’s awake? It’s rather loud. Duo, please don’t eat with your mouth full and use a coaster, for Allah’s sake!” He turned slightly, clasped his hands against the side of his face and sighed wistfully. “Oh, Trowa. Will you ever love me? Or are you always going to be that edgy emo bad boy who wants tattoos and piercings and rides motorcycles? I wish I could tell you that you’re overcompensating for something, but I was raised to be a polite, little gentleman.” Heero concluded his impression by batting his eyelashes.

Quatre was blushing furiously, but conceded with a soft laugh. “You’re good.”

“Is that what you were talking about?”

Duo shrugged. “Yeah, sorta. You might want to practice a little and you don’t have to do the same things all the time. Part of life is learning to laugh at yourself and even other things. You just have to refrain from actually putting people down. Don’t insult them. Know what I’m sayin’?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I think so.” He glanced over at Trowa who still appeared to be sleeping soundly. “I have never met anyone in my life who can sleep like he does.”

“I’m not asleep.”

They all jumped when they heard the calm murmur. Quatre’s face turned a sickening shade of green, on the verge of puking from his panic. “Trowa! How long have you been awake?”

Trowa’s eyes opened and he lifted his head from the back of the couch. “Long enough.”

“How much did you hear?”

He gave the blond an unreadable look. “Enough.”

“Enough,” Heero mimicked in a very Trowa-sounding voice. “”How was your day, Trowa?” “Good.” “Did you complete the mission, Trowa?” “Yes.” “Did you have any complications, Trowa?” “No.” “Hey, Trowa. Your hair’s on fire.” “Okay.””

Duo busted out laughing, rolling back on the floor. “Aw, man! That’s good shit. It’s funny ‘cause it’s true. Nothin’ phases you, man.” 

Trowa glared at him, then glanced back at Heero who was looking decidedly pleased with himself. “What’s all this about?”

Quatre scratched his neck, blushing. “We were - we were teaching Heero how to make fun of people.” Now that he said it, it sounded juvenile and cruel. 

Trowa tipped his head to the side. “Why?”

“’Cause it’s fun, Tro. You should try it sometime.”

Trowa didn’t seem interested in that. He was too busy starting at Quatre who looked away, suddenly timid. “You want me to fuck your brains out?”

Quatre looked scandalized. “What? No!” Trowa appeared unconvinced and the blond caved, his shoulders drooping. “Yes. But, I promise you I would never -”

“And what am I overcompensating for?”

Poor Quatre looked like he was going to have a stroke. “N - Nothing! I didn’t say that. Heero did. I don’t think -”

Trowa grabbed the boy’s face and pulled him close, leaning down and taking his lips in a deep kiss. The other three watched the blond melt into the larger boy’s arms with individual expressions of adoration (Duo), indifference (Heero), and exasperation (Wufei). 

Duo rolled onto his belly and propped his chin on his fist. “Awww! Would you look at that. So sweet. I was always rootin’ for you guys.”

Wufei looked over at him with incredulous eyes. “No you weren’t. You said Quat deserves -” His head swung to the right as Duo’s boot bounced off the side of his face, silencing what was no doubt going to be an incriminating statement.

“Shut the fuck up, Chang.”

Wufei snarled, launching himself out of his chair and tackling the braided pilot. He wrapped his hands around Duo’s throat, hissing through his teeth. “A shoe, Maxwell? You’re going to throw a shoe at me? Really? I don’t think so, you - you assaulter, you boot thrower! Do you know what I’m going to do? I’m going to choke you until you lose consciousness and then you’re going to wake up in a few hours with the boot you just hit me with shoved up your ass.”

“Why, Fei,” Duo sputtered, red-faced, tears streaming down his temples. “I didn’t know you *wheeze* cared. You could at least *cough* buy me a *wheeze* drink first.” Wufei growled and squeezed harder. 

Heero stood by the mantle watching the two pilots killing each other on one side of the room and the other two making out like nobody’s business on the other. 

“Well, screw this. If they find us, they find us.” He walked over to his bag and pulled out his laptop, settling it across his lap and flipping open the top. He turned it on and waited for the home screen to load, sighing wistfully as Relena’s image appeared, greeting him with a smile.

He traced his finger over her cheek and whispered, “Relena, my love. When I see you again…I’m going to kill you.”

Chapter Text

Pairings: Trowa/Quatre

Content: Romance, Tragedy

Rating: T+

Warnings: Major Character Death




Star Crossed

Breath, a puff of steam that billows across the few inches of space between them. It crystallizes in the frigid air, sparkling like tiny diamonds in the muted sunlight that streams in through the circular window. The inside of the capsule, small and cold, is filled with the sounds of labored breathing and the faint beep of alarms alerting the occupants of dangerously low oxygen levels. The leak in the hull is depressurizing the cockpit and the absolute zero degrees of the vacuum beyond is creeping in, spreading web-like tendrils of ice that begins to consume the inside of the transport.

Trowa holds his breath and clutches the body in his arms close to his chest. He holds the infinitesimal amount of gelid air inside his lungs until his involuntary reflexes force him to expel it and take another. His mind is fuzzy as his brain is depleted of precious oxygen, but he’s desperate to preserve as much of it as possible so that the other can breathe. The hopelessness of the situation does not matter to him. The knowledge that he could hold his breath indefinitely and it still wouldn’t save the man in his arms, irrelevant. As long as there is still life in this body, he will sacrifice it for his love.

Quatre squirms a little within the tight embrace, makes a weak sound, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper, then quiets down again. Their helmets are useless, discarded and floating above their heads. Trowa feels his arms loosen, his strength fading with suffocation and hypothermia. He distinctly remembers such a feeling, once before. He’d been alone then and he wished he was alone now, if only for the simple fact that he could die knowing Quatre was safe. 

It doesn’t matter anyway. He draws in another breath, raspy, weak with fatigue and shivers from the cold as he tries to hold it in. The shiver travels through his body, passing into the smaller one he holds close to him like a current of electricity. Despite his best efforts, Quatre is succumbing, his shallow gasps slowing significantly. After another minute, they stop altogether and Trowa squeezes his eyes shut with his last shreds of energy. A tear leaks through, separates, and freezes, and he watches the tiny crystal drift undisturbed through the zero gravity space. 

After several minutes, he takes his own last breath. His body ices over, fusing to the one in his arms. When they’re finally found, drifting past the far reaches of Jupiter’s orbit, they are dubbed Jalid Indrăgostiți, forever immortalized among the stars. For generations to come, they are given Shakespearean status as the star-crossed lovers who lived and died with a romance that transcended every man-made boundary, inspiring poetry, sonnets, ballads, and countless novels and films. 

When they died, they breathed life into those who had lost hope, abandoned dreams, and became eternal symbols of promises that are meant to be kept. Of devotion that stands the test of time. Of determination, strength, courage, and perseverance. Their legacy, celestial, written in the stars, would live on in the hearts of those who believe in the miraculous power of love.

Chapter Text

Pairing: Trowa/Quatre

Content: Romance, Fluff, Humor

Rating: T

Warnings: None




First Equinox

“Trowa, are you going to tell me where you’re taking me?”


“Why not? This blindfold is itchy.”

“Oh, relax. We’ll be there very soon.”

“Where’s “there”?”

There was a pause and Quatre’s ears picked up his boyfriend’s heavy sigh. “Haven’t you ever heard of a surprise?”

Quatre clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and shook his head. “I hate surprises. Nothing good ever comes from them. It’s always some problem with the resource satellites, or an issue with the workers’ union, or a lawsuit…”

“Well, I promise you this is a good one.”

“Can’t you give me a hint?”


Quatre huffed and tipped his head back onto the headrest of the transport’s copilot seat. He reached out cautiously with his empathy, brushing against the other man’s mind as gently as he could, trying not to give himself away. If he could just find a teeny tiny -

“And stop that! You’re not going to cheat and pick my brain.”

“Damn it.” He pulled back and stuck a finger beneath his blindfold to scratch an itchy spot next to his left eye. “Is the blindfold really necessary?”

“Don’t you trust me? Why do you have to be so difficult?”

“I’m not! And of course I trust you. I just - oh, never mind. Fine. I’ll be good.”

“Thank you.”

“You’d just better have a damned good reason for abducting me in the middle of a very important business meeting.”

“Your meeting can wait.”

Quatre rolled his eyes beneath the blindfold and absently picked at the vinyl padding that covered the seat’s arms.

“And quit sulking.”

“I’m not sulking! I’m - ugh…fine.”

Quatre wasn’t exaggerating when he’d said he was abducted from his meeting. That was exactly what Trowa did. He figured his lover was probably missing their war days and needed a little excitement in his life because he’d gone about the whole thing rather dramatically. 

“Don’t you think throwing sleeping gas through the window was a little…oh, I don’t know. Over the top?” Trowa didn’t answer. Quatre turned his head to face the other man even though he couldn’t see him and smirked. “If you’re bored, you could have just said something.”

“I’m not bored.”

“Then why did you feel the need to gas my boardroom and carry me off like some Neanderthal?”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t leave any other way and I miss you.”

Quatre felt a rush of guilt at that and fumbled blindly for his boyfriend. He rested his hand on a jean-covered thigh and squeezed. “I’m sorry, baby. I know I’ve been really busy lately.”

Trowa grabbed his hand and brought it to his mouth, pressing soft kisses over his knuckles. “S’okay,” he murmured, his breath stirring the fine hairs on the back of Quatre’s hand. “I know you can’t help it. But you need to remember to stop and enjoy life once and a while. What’s the point if you’re just going to work yourself into the ground?”

Quatre smiled and tightened his fingers around Trowa’s. “You’re right. I need to carve out more time for us.”

“Not just for us…for you. I hate seeing you so tired and stressed all the time.”

“I’m sorry I worry you.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just take care of yourself, okay?”

“I will. I promise.”

They drifted through space for a little while in companionable silence which relaxed him, even causing him to be a little groggy as the long hours of work finally caught up to him. He wound up nodding off and didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until the turbulence of earth’s atmosphere jolted him awake. Disoriented, his hands flew up to the blindfold over his eyes, momentarily forgetting why it was there and thinking he’d been abducted for real. 

Trowa pulled a hand away from the controls to grab Quatre’s and soothe his panic.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s just me. Remember? I’m taking you on a trip.”

“Oh.” He calmed down as the memories resurfaced and the fight or flight surge of adrenaline eased. He blew out a deep breath in relief and laughed softly. “Sorry, I guess I fell asleep. I forgot where I was for a minute.”

“It’s alright. We just crossed through the atmosphere. It won’t be long now till we’re there. Did you have a good nap?”

“Yeah, actually. Short, but nice.”

“You needed it. I know you’ve been neglecting sleep.”

“Yeah, but I’m going to try not to do that from now on. I know it worries you.”

“Only because your health matters to me and I love you.”

Quatre’s mouth curled up in a giddy smile. No matter how many times Trowa said that, it still felt as magical as his first intimately whispered confession. “I love you, too, you worry wart.”

“Look who’s talking.”

It took what Quatre estimated as half of an hour to reach their destination and his stomach did a little somersault as Trowa dropped altitude in preparation for landing. A few minutes later, the thump of solid ground traveled up Quatre’s body like a mild shock wave. 

He raised his hands to remove the blindfold, but hesitated before taking it off. “Are we there?”

“We are.”

“Can I take this off now?” He asked, dying to know where they were.

“Not yet. Hang on.”

He could hear the click of Trowa releasing his harness, the shuffle of his movements as he got up and came closer. He felt his lover’s hands fumble with the buckle of his harness and waited patiently for him to unlock it. Trowa pushed the straps aside and grabbed his hands, pulling him to his feet. 

“Trowa, I can’t see where I’m going. I don’t want to trip.”

“You’re not going to trip. I’m right here.”

Quatre sighed and shook his head fondly. Trowa was nothing if not the perfect gentleman. Had been for as long as he’d known him and while his chivalry was exasperating at times, Quatre would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it. 

He clung to his boyfriend like a helpless damsel and allowed Trowa to perform his knight in shining armor act. Though he was grateful he was there to guide him out of the transport, otherwise he would have probably gotten his foot caught on some wires and flattened his face on the metal floor.

“Easy. Take it slow. There you go, baby. Okay, we’ve reached the steps.”

He tightened his grip on Trowa’s arms, his knuckles turning white as he felt around for the first step down. Thankfully, Trowa was strong enough to hold his weight and keep him from falling if he lost his footing. They carefully navigated the steps until Quatre registered the distinct texture of earth beneath his feet. 

Trowa held him close as they walked several paces away from the transport. Quatre’s senses were heightened due to his inability to see and his ears picked up the sound of people nearby as well as a distant choppy motor. The air was crisp and cool with a slight breeze that permeated through his clothes. There was a plethora of smells and he breathed in deeply through his nose in an attempt to identify them. He caught the scent of sugar and apples underlined with a deep, organic, earthy scent. 

“Okay, here we are.” Trowa finally came to a stop and fumbled with the knot at the back of Quatre’s head until the blindfold fell away. Quatre blinked as the light hit his eyes, watering a little as they adjusted. After a few minutes, they focused and he was met with the most breathtaking sight he’d ever seen. 

“Oh my God,” he whispered, awe in his voice as he looked around. The trees were like nothing he’d ever seen before with the exception of videos and photographs. Somehow, the real thing was a thousand times more brilliant. A bright, vibrant spectrum of fiery reds, oranges, and yellows, accompanied with the occasional descent of leaves as they separated from their hosts and drifted to the ground. The grass was barely visible, almost covered with an abundance of colored and browning foliage. 

Off to his right was a large, rustic barn with people going in and out. In their hands, they carried paper bags with grease spots, little wooden barrels filled to the brim with red and green apples, and cups of steaming coffee, cocoa, and cider. Rows of apple trees stood on the other side of the barn and Quatre could see a bright red tractor pulling a long wagon behind it as it slowly chugged between the rows. He could barely make out the squeal of children’s laughter as they jumped down from the wagon and ran towards a large pumpkin patch.

It was one of the most beautiful things Quatre had ever seen. The simple rustic charm of life on earth and the incredible magic of the seasons that did not exist on the colonies.

“Oh, Trowa! It’s - it’s beautiful!” He forced his gaze away from his riveting surroundings and faced his boyfriend, his mouth curled up in a wide smile. “I’ve never seen a real Autumn aside from movies and pictures.”

“I know,” Trowa said, pulling him close and pressing his face against soft blond hair. “That’s why I did this. I wanted you to see it.”

Quatre wrapped his arms around him and rested his head against the powerful chest as he tried to keep his emotions in check. “Thank you. This is so…I don’t even have words. This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“So…it’s a good surprise?”

“The best! I can’t believe how much thought you put into this. This is so wonderful, I don’t know how to thank you.”

“No need to thank me. Just have fun. Enjoy yourself. That’s what we came here to do.” He stared down into his love’s eyes, elated to see true joy on his face. “It’s because of you that I was able to learn to love life and everything about it  I should be thanking you.”

Quatre cupped his face and lifted up to kiss his lips. “You are the best and I love you so much. I’m so happy you abducted me for this.”

“I might be in some legal hot water, but it was worth it.”

Quatre grinned up at him, his expression decidedly smug. “You forget who your boyfriend is.” He tipped his button nose in the air and waved his hand dismissively. “I don’t mean to brag, but…I do have friends in high places.”

Trowa chuckled and shook his head. “I knew I fell in love with you for a reason.”

“There are many reasons you fell in love with me.”

“Shall I count the ways?”

“Mmm…maybe later. Right now I believe you owe me a hay ride and a bag of those delicious smelling doughnuts in all their greasy fried glory.”

Trowa smiled and wrapped an arm around him as they headed towards the orchard. “Okay, I’ll give you that. But you’re buying the pumpkin.”

Chapter Text


Content: Introspective, Humor, Fluff, Romance

Rating: T+

Warnings: None





The lab was quiet this time of night. The team of scientists, engineers, weapons specialists, and mechanics that swarmed the place throughout the day were gone, back to their bunkers to sleep until dawn. 

Quatre relished the peace, the tranquil silence in the giant, sterile room. The low auxiliary lights so different from the bright florescent ones they used during the day. The only sounds were the faint hum of machinery and the steady drip, drip from a small leak in the ceiling on the far end, impossible to hear during the loud, bustling activity of what he commonly referred to as “business hours”. It had been raining for over a week solid and he was amazed that there was only a tiny roof leak to show for it. 

He remembered their old lab, the one he and Trowa had started out in seventeen years ago. They’d gotten a deal on the place, the reason for which they discovered soon after. It had been built on a low-lying floodplain due to zoning violations. He’d woken up one morning after a day of heavy thunderstorms and swung his legs out of bed only to wind up ankle deep in flood waters.

That was their first real lesson about the importance of doing thorough research when looking to buy real estate. They’d lost an estimated thirty million in structural and equipment damage. Quatre had been so relieved that he’d remembered to keep his insurance policies up to date and he kept meticulous records of everything in a way that bordered on obsessive. That day, it paid off and after teasing him about it for years, Trowa humbly conceded its merit.

After that flood, Quatre decided to donate the property to a nonprofit nature preserve organization and paid for the building’s demolition. To this day, the area was a fertile and vibrant wetland home to thousands of species of plants and animals. It was a significant monetary loss, but the gain was far more valuable than anything that could ever be written down on paper.

Occupying the lab in the middle of the night was a habitual nocturnal activity, first initiated in their old lab and it had stayed with him ever since. As a chronic insomnia sufferer who’d tried his share of treatments including therapy, hypnosis, acupuncture, and finally, pharmaceuticals which never seemed to work, Quatre found that retreating here was the only thing that offered solace. While there was nothing better than the safety and warmth of Trowa’s arms, Quatre felt terrible about keeping him up at night and had learned to quietly slip out without disturbing him. 

There was just something so different about being in the lab at night. It wasn’t something he could put his finger on, but he often likened it to the atmosphere of a department store long after closing hours. With the dim lights, the hum of computers, and the eerie void of people, the lab seemed to take on a whole new life of its own. Like toys in a toy store suddenly taking a breath, jumping from their display shelves, and playing the whole night through without the oppressive, prying eyes of their human creators and consumers.

It was something Quatre felt privileged to bear witness to. Like he was somewhere he should not be, in some alternate flip side of time. Entire dimensions of existence that lay beyond the reflective surface of a mirror. Or, at least that was how he liked to think of it. Even when running WEI, the grueling days that stretched into the early morning hours when he finally locked up his office at two in the morning, long after everyone else had gone home, he’d felt a strange sort of thrill as he walked down the darkened, empty corridors, greeted only by the faint beep of alarms on standby and the low rumble of vending machines.

He would often imagine the snacks in the machine impatiently waiting for him to call it a day so that they could come to life and do…whatever it was that processed snack food did when humans weren’t looking. It was such an odd thought to entertain, he wondered on many a sleepless night if he was the only person in the world who considered such things.

Trowa was the only one who knew about it. Shortly after they’d established a monogamous relationship, he’d surprised Quatre with an impromptu date to a wine and fondue bar. Having never had more than a few sips of champagne at his sister’s wedding, the two glasses of chardonnay he’d had went right to his head. Tipsy on fermented grapes, he drunkenly confessed his “deepest and darkest secret” by slurring it against Trowa’s chest and giggling like an idiot.

The following morning, he was convinced that he’d destroyed everything, believing Trowa now saw him as a delusional flake and would walk out of his life again with that stupid brown bag over his shoulder just like the first time they met. He was prepared to unleash a full litany of excuses and apologies the moment Trowa opened his eyes in the hopes that he could at least have a chance to explain himself before the other man performed his magnificent disappearing act. 

His attempts to redeem himself were interrupted mid-sentence as Trowa kissed him quiet and then made love to him again while beams of morning sunlight streamed in through the window and warmed their bare legs. Trowa reassured him with whispered words and gentle caresses that Quatre had nothing to worry about; he wasn’t going anywhere. Later that morning, he admitted over a breakfast of blueberry and banana pancakes, that he thought Quatre’s idiosyncrasy was “quirky and adorable.” Even now, twenty years later, Trowa would wake up in the morning with a bright smile and ask him if he’d witnessed any “laboratory mischief”. 

“I’m pretty sure the old saying, “A watched kettle never boils,” also applies to lab equipment.” 

Quatre grinned, but didn’t turn around as he heard the soft, amused voice of his lover behind him. “You do realize that’s an old wives tale, don’t you? Watched kettles do indeed boil. It’s simple chemistry.” Trowa pressed up against his back and closed big hands over his shoulders. “What are you doing up?”

“Nature called. Noticed you were gone.”

“Hmmm…and you knew exactly where I was.”

“Elementary, my dear,” Trowa murmured and kissed the top of his head. “Don’t you think after twenty years, I would know you well enough by now?”

Quatre chuckled and leaned back against his chest, savoring the powerful arms that folded around him. “I would say you know me too well.”

“You can never know someone too well. Or, at least I can never know too much about you. It’s not possible.”

“Why’s that?”

“You fascinate me.” Trowa grinned as Quatre let out a bark of laughter. “I’m serious. You always have. Learning more about you is like opening a gift. A gift that keeps on giving.”

“Flatterer,” Quatre chided, lifting Trowa’s hand to his mouth and pressing kisses over his palm. “So I don’t bore you?”

“You could never bore me.”

“No? Not even thirty, forty years from now when we’re all wrinkled and crusty and you’ve found out everything there is to know about me?”

“If I ever did know everything about you, I would spend the rest of my days lamenting the fact that I know everything about you.”

Quatre doubled over in a fit of hysterical laughter, slapping the table in front of him and holding his side when it began to ache. He wiped tears from his eyes and tipped his head back to look at his lover. “You are so ridiculous and sappy, you know that?”

Trowa gave him an upside down grin. “Not as ridiculous as believing corn chips and chocolate bars come to life in the middle of the night.”

Quatre playfully swatted his hand. “Oh, come on now. If I actually believed that, don’t you think I would be setting up surveillance cameras in front of every vending machine in town?”

“Maybe you already did that. Maybe you tried it, but the cheese puffs and fruity chews were onto you which forced you to give up trying to prove your theory. And you never told anyone about it except for one anonymous post that you submitted to Believe Me, Or Bust dot com.”

“Now you’re just making me sound like a nutcase.”

“With, or without carmel?”

Quatre shot him a dark look and stood up, pushing his chair against his desk. “It’s caramel. Anyway, how did I fall in love with such a snarky bastard?”

“Admit it. You love snarky bastards. They are your number five turn on.”

“And what are my first four turn on’s?”

Trowa gave him a smarmy wink. “Come back to bed with me and we’ll find out together.”

“We’ve been together for twenty years. You haven’t figured them out by now?”

Trowa wrapped an arm around him as they headed out the door. “Every time with you is like the first time.”

“You really need to stop reading Catherine’s Harlequin romance novels.”

Chapter Text

Pairings: Heero/Relena (implied), Trowa/Quatre (implied)

Humor, friendship

Rating: T+

Warnings: None





Preventer Agents on duty: Lieutenent Heero Yuy and Lieutenent Trowa Barton.

July 21st, AC 207, Los Angeles, California. Costco parking lot, 1:32pm, local time.




Heero pulled the connector away from the tilt switch - careful now, easy does it - and removed the timer attached to the dynamite out of its casing. He held his left hand out, accepting the pair of clippers Trowa placed into his palm, using them to cut the wire that ran a current of electricity into the detonator. When seconds passed and nothing happened, he blew out a soft puff of breath and wiped the beads of sweat from his brow.

It didn’t matter how many times they’d done this. It was always a hair-raising game of Russian Roulette.

“That should do it,” he said, stuffing the wires back into the casing and closing it up tight. He placed the deactivated bomb into the duffle Trowa held up and watched him zip it closed. “What are you smiling about?”

Trowa’s teeth flashed in a brief grin. “Need to change your drawers?”

“Please. Child’s play. That idiot doesn’t know the first thing about building a sophisticated explosive. A rookie could have disarmed that thing.”

“All’s the better for us. The more dumb criminals there are, the less smart ones we have to worry about.”

Heero plopped down onto the concrete and drew his knees up, draping an arm over them. He gazed across the parking lot, squinting through the haze of ninety five degree heat and waved at the gathered spectators who were being held at a safe distance. “You know, I used to think everything would change after the wars, but people still come to watch us disarm bombs in the hopes of witnessing the possibility of one of them blowing us to kingdom come.”

Trowa chuckled and unhooked his radio from his belt. “How many do you want to bet have their cell phone cameras rolling right this very moment?”

“My money’s on all of them. Damned vultures.”

“Morbid fascination is an intrinsic human trait.”

“So is common decency.”

Trowa radioed Une, giving her the all clear and then he and Heero got up to let the bomb squad take over. From here, the device would be submerged in ice water to take out any remote chance of the thing still going off. Heero watched the dispersing of the crowd and noted a look of obvious disappointment on some of their faces. “If I’d known people were still going to be this shitty…”

“What?” Trowa slid his sunglass over his nose and glanced at his partner. “You’d have gone ahead with Operation Meteor?”

“Are we really any better? As a species, I mean.”

Trowa shrugged. “As long as we’re still alive, we have the potential to be.”

Heero shook his head. “I’m glad I have you to talk to about this stuff. Relena would blow a gasket.”

“She’ll never understand it and maybe she shouldn’t have to.”

“Shouldn’t she?”

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know. I mean, you have Quatre and he understands. He was in the thick of it just like we were. I used to think Relena should have been protected from -”

“Reality? That’s impossible, Heero. Give her some credit. It’s not like she was hiding out in some fancy school during the war like the other rich kids. She put her neck on the line almost as much as we did. She still does.”

“I just don’t think she should have to anymore.”

“And she probably feels the same way about you,” Trowa told him pointedly. “Do you really think she enjoys knowing what you do all day? Do you think she enjoys knowing that there could come a time when you might not come home?” He ran a hand through his hair and blew out a breath. “She’s not a child, Heero. She makes her own decisions.”

“I know. I can’t even imagine her reaction if I ever tried to tell her what to do.” He smirked and glanced over at Trowa. “Speaking of stubborn spitfires, how’s Quat doing?”

“Kicking corporate ass, as usual.”

“His specialty,” Heero said fondly.

“He hates it.”

“Does he?” Trowa didn’t respond and Heero got the sense there was more. “You want to talk about it?”

“He’s…stressed. Hey, you want to get a beer? I think we’ve earned it.”

“Sure, why not.”

“Irish, or German?”

“Now, you know the answer to that.”

“Irish it is, then. Thank God you’re not Duo. I will never understand that guy’s obsession with Canadian beer.”

Heero threw his head back and guffawed. “Remember that time he got so pissed at Wufei for calling his beloved Labatt’s ‘elk piss’?”

“S’not elk piss, eh. It’s beer, eh.”

“Yeah, don’t do that, man.”

Trowa chuckled. “Sorry. It’s the heat.”

“Well, then let’s get some of that Guinness into you before you collapse from thirst. Quat will never forgive me for letting you die on the job.”

“Oh, he’s fine with me dying on the job,” Trowa joked. “As long as it’s heroic. Heat stroke would be a very undignified way to go.”

“Indeed. Well, if it ever goes down like that, I’ll just tell him you went out in a blaze of glory.”

“You’re a good friend, Yuy.”

Chapter Text

Pairings: Trowa/Quatre (implied), Duo/Hilde (implied)


Rating: T+

Warnings: None




Quatre dodged a stream of laser fire just in time to save the tip of his nose from being seared off. He rubbed away the slight burn and glanced at his partner, doing a double take when Duo reached into his duffle and pulled out a massive canon. “What the hell is that?”

Duo looked at him as if he were a few cards shy of a full deck. “It’s a rocket launcher. Duh.” He propped the weapon on his shoulder, placing the end of the barrel on the lip of the wooden crate they were currently taking refuge behind.

Quatre ducked and touched the singed hair on the top of his head as another laser blast careened over it, his nose prickling at the smell. “Damn it. I can see that. Where’d you get it?”

Duo slid a rocket into the trap, popped the clip in place, and patted the top of the barrel. “Heh. Your lover boy is pretty handy.”

The blond shot off a few rounds of his rifle, then pulled his arms back in, ducking down again as they were assaulted with another barrage of enemy fire. “Trowa gave you this?”

“Affirmative,” Duo hummed, peering through the missile launcher’s scope. “This baby’s got a class five rating. Got a range of fifty miles. Blast radius of two hundred feet. Even then, I wouldn’t wanna be within five hundred feet of where this puppy lands. Knock your cashmere socks off.”

Quatre bristled at the cashmere comment, but decided to let it slide. He released the clip on his rifle and slapped another magazine into it with a muttered, “I can’t believe Trowa gave you that.”

“Well, actually…I lied. He didn’t exactly give it to me.”

Quatre boggled at him. “You stole it?!”

“Hey! You know how long I’ve been dyin’ to get my hands on one these suckers? Shee-it! Hilde was supposed to get me one for Christmas, but do you know what she got me instead? A shop vac, Quat. A fucking shop vac.” He shook his head at the indignity and rested his cheek against the barrel, making sure to open his mouth before he pulled the trigger. “S’a damn good thing you’re gay, buddy. Women can really suck the fun outta life, y’know?”

“Duo, you -”

“Alrighty! Let’s see what this baby can do. Show me the money!”

“Duo! You have to watch the -”


“- kick back,” he finished, watching his friend fly ten feet back and into another stack of crates. He cringed as the crates on top wobbled and then toppled over, landing on Duo’s splayed legs.

There was a pained groan from the bottom of the pile and then Duo’s leg twitched. “Little help?”

He coughed, waving dust particles out of his face, and crawled over to assist. It took some hard shoves and then some hearty kicks before he was able to clear the heavy debris off his idiot partner. “Are you alright?”

When there was enough room, Duo shimmied his way out, looking hilariously rumpled, covered in dust and soot. He gave Quatre a deliriously wide grin, his teeth glowing white from within the black char on his face. “That was kick ass,” he slurred dreamily.

Quatre shook his head and helped him sit up, stopping cold with dread when Duo winced and yelped in pain. “What is it? Where are you hurt?”

“Ow. I think a cracked a rib, or seven. Ah! Aw, damn. That smarts.”

“I’ll call for backup,” Quatre said, unhooking his radio from his belt. “Next time, warn me ahead of time before you bring a nuke to a firefight, okay?”

“Did I hit the target?”

“And then some,” he answered, glancing at the raging inferno where half of a warehouse stood only moments before.

“Hey, man. Don’t tell Tro I took his toy. He’ll just rebreak my ribs along with my skull.”

“Sorry, buddy. You’re on your own.”

“Aw, come on, Q! What have I ever done to you? Take one for the team. Please? What are best friends for?”

“Even if I did take the fall for you, Trowa would never believe it. He knows I’d never take anything from his arsenal without telling him. Besides, you’re the thief around here.”

“Damn,” Duo grunted, gingerly laying back down. Quatre stripped out of his jacket and placed it beneath his friend’s head, shaking his own in reprimand. “Yeah, well. At least I keep things interesting.” He pointed a shaky finger at the firestorm and smiled up at Quatre. “That was a good shot though, right?”

“You’re an idiot.”