Amnesia, Romance Novels, and Gundam Pilots
Who: Quatre Winner undermywing, Trowa Barton masquedclown
When: After Trowa's post sbout his returning memories
Where: Trowa's room
Summary: Quatre keeps Trowa company. Discussion happens. ...It's stranger than it sounds.
Rating: PG
Warnings: None (unless you decide to look at it as flirting. Then, it's two guys flirting.)
Trowa sat on his bed, closing his eyes and seeing a memory from his time with the mercenaries come back to him. He couldn't get over how strange it was, seeing a memory for what felt like the first time. Opening his eyes as a soft knock sounded from the door, he stood up and walked over to open it.
Quatre bounced lightly on his toes, tucking his hands behind his back as Trowa opened the door. He smiled brightly in greeting, bending slightly at the waist. "Trowa! Hello!" He took a bottle of water out from behind his back, offering it. "This was in my room. I thought you could probably use it."
"Thank you." Trowa accepted the water bottle with a tiny smile, stepping away from the door to give the blond room to enter. Something about Quatre was soothing, nostalgic almost. He only wished that he didn't have to wait to remember exactly what it was.
Quatre beamed when Trowa took the water, and sidled past into the room, trying to resist the urge to glance around curiously and failing. "How have you been?" He asked, looking back to Trowa with a softer, more relaxed smile. "I mean...all things considered."
Trowa twisted off the cap and took a small drink, moving to sit on the bed and leaving plenty of room for Quatre to do the same. "All things considered, not terribly. While the hallucinations have been horrible, I've managed by myself."
The days before his memories began returning, the illusions had been things about the circus, and Cathy. Seeing her mauled by lions had been horrific, but he'd sat on the bed with his head between his knees until it had disappeared.
After one more glance around, Quatre followed Trowa, perching on the edge of the bed. He fiddled with his sleeve for moment, and cocked his head, frowning. "Yeah, the hallucinations have been pretty awful." Seeing his friends dead and believing it was at his hands was not nice at all. "But you've been able to deal with them on your own?" That...wasn't necessarily good and Quatre frowned some more through a smile, because no one should have to deal with things like that alone...even if Quatre could understand why they did.
"Yes. I've been fine by myself." All things considered. It was almost a joke now. "Thank you for coming to see me. I enjoy your company." He took another sip from the water bottle, offering it to Quatre.
Quatre blinked and accepted the offer of water. "Ah...thanks." He took a drink, careful to take only a small amount, and offered it back. "Thank you for inviting me. I enjoy spending time with you, as well." Then he paused, arm still outstretched, and stared at Trowa with wide, startled eyes.
Trowa took back the water bottle, pausing halfway to raising it to his mouth as Quatre's eyes widened. "...What is it?"
Quatre blinked again, and his lips twitched. He shook his head quickly. "It's nothing," he said, sounding a little strained as he tried to keep his voice under control. "Really."
That was not convincing in the slightest. "What's wrong?" Trowa moved closer to the blond, his brow furrowing slightly. "Is it a hallucination?"
Quatre twitched in surprise and shook his head, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, and then tilting his head back to smile at Trowa brightly. "No, no, nothing at all like that. I was just...remembering something from when I was little. Etiquette lessons."
Trowa raised an eyebrow, not sure whether to believe it. "What did you remember?"
"Pink plastic teacups," Quatre offered with grin, some of his amusement sliding away as he realized that he'd probably worried Trowa. "The youngest of my sisters would make me practice with them sometimes."
"...How do you keep all their names straight?" Trowa smirked a little, taking a sip from the water bottle to hide it.
"A song," Quatre said in all seriousness, though his lips twitched some. "I learned it before I learned my letters."
Trowa chuckled, unable to help it. "Who took the time to write it?" He shifted on the bed to lean against the wall.
Quatre leaned back on his arms, tilting his head to gaze at the ceiling in thought. He shrugged at Trowa. "Probably Cindy." He said finally, and then tilted his head in good natured almost-embarrassment at Trowa. "She's the only one I know of who has the patience to fill a notebook in one day."
"They sound like an interesting group." Trowa commented, taking another sip and leaving the bottle in between them in case Quatre wanted some.
Quatre's smile softened, maybe a little sad. "Yeah, they are." He glanced at the water but didn't reach for it. "...What about you?" He didn't hesitate when asking it, blurting it out, really, but Quatre, after a moment, wondered with a little uncertainty if it really was the best thing to say.
"What did I remember?" Trowa clarified, glancing at the blond. "Childhood memories, only up to what I think to be age ten."
Quatre tilted his head curiously and relaxed, just a little, shifting up higher on the bed (carefully, so as to not disturb the water bottle) and settled with his legs crossed, facing Trowa. "Really? So...you're getting your earliest memories back first?" Childhood memories...that couldn't be too bad, right? A little part of Quatre's mind informed him that, yes, it could be, but Quatre ignored it for now.
"I suppose that makes sense. Those are the oldest memories." Trowa turned so that they were facing each other, feeling better than he'd been all week. He didn't like being alone for too long, but it was still awkward being around people who remembered him that he had no memories of.
Quatre grinned, and then smiled, shutting his eyes and nodding his head once. "Yeah, I suppose so." He almost wished that it would be the other way around, and that the other pilot would remember them first, but Quatre wasn't picky. He just wanted Trowa to be content with himself...as much as possible. Quatre's smile wavered and he glanced down, something that had been bothering him finally making itself known. "Trowa...? Did you...?"
Trowa gave the smaller teen a questioning look, shifting closer. "Hm?"
Quatre shook his head at his lap. "It's probably nothing but...did you...did you really want these memories back?" Would you have wanted them back if we had never returned to your life? Quatre looked up as he said it, determined not to hide. Not from Trowa. They were all so young for war, and Trowa had been given the chance at a relatively normal life without the knowledge of what he'd done hanging over his shoulder...Quatre wondered if taking that away from him was fair...if it was something Trowa would live to regret someday.
...If not something he already regretted.
"Yes." Trowa said without hesitation. "Those memories are a part of me." It didn't matter how horrible they could be, he still wanted them back. He wanted to know who these people were, had to remember what they had been to him. It was just like his decision to go back with Quatre, to leave the circus that had been his home; it was something he just knew that he had to do.
Quatre did nothing for a moment, head tilted forward so shadows fell across his eyes. Then, he smiled, fists clenching as he breathed a sigh of...not relief, but acceptance, satisfaction; and the tension building in his shoulders lessened. "Ah...thank you, Trowa." He looked up and leaned forward, laughing softly. "It was...probably a silly worry, right?"
"It's understandable." Trowa tried to comfort the blond, a small smile lifting his lips upwards.
"...I suppose," Quatre said, and shook himself. He laughed, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. "I'm sorry. You're the one I'm here for and I'm talking about things like that." He smiled teasingly, "I bet you're regretting your choice in company now?"
"Not at all." Trowa shook his head, that same smile playing at his lips. "I'd prefer the company I have now to most."
Quatre grinned, "well, then I guess I should be honored," he said, and bowed as best he could sitting down cross-legged, throwing an arm out theatrically.
Again Trowa chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "I don't see why."
That earned him a tap on the leg, Quatre reaching out with a foot to do it, and a grin. "Well, I don't know why, either," he said, and half stuck out his tongue. "Maybe it's because you're the type of boy some of my sisters would absolutely adore." He tilted his head. "On second thought, maybe I should leave now. They'll probably tear me apart for information the second I get back to them if they find out." He smiled good naturedly.
Trowa blinked, confused. He'd never thought of himself as attractive in any way - he was just too quiet for most people. "I am?" He questioned his voice neutral to the confusion he felt.
Quatre tilted his head, grinning softly and chuckling. "My sisters would certainly think so. They always talk about the tall, dark, and silent types from their books and, according to most romance novels, you, my friend, need a beautiful, innocent young flower to open your heart to the world." Quatre shrugged, embarrassed again. "They say that girls like things like that."
Trowa wasn't entirely sure he wanted a 'beautiful, innocent young flower'. In fact, the thought didn't sound appealing at all. "No damsel in distress?" He replied, his face comically serious.
Quatre blinked and then tucked a hand up against his mouth, trying to stifle his giggles. "Oh, of course there is! The innocent young flower usually ends up the focus of an evil man, didn't you know? And then she needs to be saved by her one true love, who realizes then that they were always meant to be." Quatre's smile softened behind his hand.
Letting loose another small laugh, Trowa took another drink of the water bottle. "But if her one true love is so silent, how will he profess his love to her?"
"Oh, well, they never stay silent for long," Quatre said with a shake of his finger. "Around their flower, they're as poetic as the stars, because they have no need for that wall they've had built up around their hearts." Admittedly for Quatre, there was nothing wrong with this, but to the lengths some people took it...
"As poetic as the stars? Are you certain you aren't that way?" Trowa raised an eyebrow, amused at the flowery language.
Quatre flushed, and reached out again to try and prod Trowa in the leg again. Possibly a bit harder than last time. "There's nothing wrong with being poetic," he protested, laughing.
"I never said there was anything wrong with it." Trowa grinned back in his own way, which was a slightly wider smile than normal.
"Well, it was implied," Quatre said, tucking his feet under him and reaching for the water bottle questioningly, grin widening so much it almost hurt, "besides, I'm missing two vital components to being a properly romantic example of the male species, as I'm reminded of quite constantly, thank you."
"The dark and the silent?" Trowa questioned, purposely leaving out the most obvious of the three.
"Yes!" Quatre said with a brightening laugh. "I like to think that height really doesn't matter, but I suppose I'm doomed." He took a sip of the water, passing it back.
"It depends." Trowa shrugged, his mouth still tilted in a half-smile. "Height is relative. Just find a damsel that's shorter than you are."
"Ah, it's harder than it looks, you know...unless they're eight years or younger." Quatre smiled brightly, thinking of the ladies his father had usually introduced him to at the occasional ball he could force Quatre to attend...and how much taller they usually were, "though I've been told that if I really wanted to, I could probably pass myself off as nine."
"Maybe you'll hit a growth spurt." The thought of Quatre trying to look like a nine-year-old was terribly amusing, mostly because he could actually pass for one.
"It's something to hope for," Quatre agreed, and his lips twitched again. "Though I'm sure my sisters would be terribly displeased." They knew what Quatre looked like when he was trying for nine years old, after all.
"I think you'd be rather tall for a nine-year-old." Trowa commented, barely holding back a laugh.
"My nine-year-old self had a growth spurt," Quatre retorted, lifting his chin in as haughty a way as he could manage (which wasn't much, since Quatre was Quatre.) "It's something he's very proud of, you know."
"Inner children aren't supposed to become outer ones." Trowa smirked, amused at the thought.
"Duo would probably disagree," Quatre replied quietly, and giggled. He hadn't laughed this much in a very long time. It felt good.
"I would expect him to." The brunette nodded, watching Quatre laugh and unable to stop himself from smiling.
Quatre grinned, laughter dying away but not taking with it the warm and content feeling that had settled comfortably around his shoulders. Nothing to say came to mind, and so Quatre didn't bother to say anything. He just shut his eyes and leaned back, smile not quite leaving his lips.
Trowa didn't say anything either, content to just watch Quatre smile - truly smile, not smile to hide what he was really feeling or to reassure someone.
Again he was struck with the realization that he just couldn't wait to remember. He wanted to know if these feelings he had for the blond were new, or if he'd had them all along.
When: After Trowa's post sbout his returning memories
Where: Trowa's room
Summary: Quatre keeps Trowa company. Discussion happens. ...It's stranger than it sounds.
Rating: PG
Warnings: None (unless you decide to look at it as flirting. Then, it's two guys flirting.)
Trowa sat on his bed, closing his eyes and seeing a memory from his time with the mercenaries come back to him. He couldn't get over how strange it was, seeing a memory for what felt like the first time. Opening his eyes as a soft knock sounded from the door, he stood up and walked over to open it.
Quatre bounced lightly on his toes, tucking his hands behind his back as Trowa opened the door. He smiled brightly in greeting, bending slightly at the waist. "Trowa! Hello!" He took a bottle of water out from behind his back, offering it. "This was in my room. I thought you could probably use it."
"Thank you." Trowa accepted the water bottle with a tiny smile, stepping away from the door to give the blond room to enter. Something about Quatre was soothing, nostalgic almost. He only wished that he didn't have to wait to remember exactly what it was.
Quatre beamed when Trowa took the water, and sidled past into the room, trying to resist the urge to glance around curiously and failing. "How have you been?" He asked, looking back to Trowa with a softer, more relaxed smile. "I mean...all things considered."
Trowa twisted off the cap and took a small drink, moving to sit on the bed and leaving plenty of room for Quatre to do the same. "All things considered, not terribly. While the hallucinations have been horrible, I've managed by myself."
The days before his memories began returning, the illusions had been things about the circus, and Cathy. Seeing her mauled by lions had been horrific, but he'd sat on the bed with his head between his knees until it had disappeared.
After one more glance around, Quatre followed Trowa, perching on the edge of the bed. He fiddled with his sleeve for moment, and cocked his head, frowning. "Yeah, the hallucinations have been pretty awful." Seeing his friends dead and believing it was at his hands was not nice at all. "But you've been able to deal with them on your own?" That...wasn't necessarily good and Quatre frowned some more through a smile, because no one should have to deal with things like that alone...even if Quatre could understand why they did.
"Yes. I've been fine by myself." All things considered. It was almost a joke now. "Thank you for coming to see me. I enjoy your company." He took another sip from the water bottle, offering it to Quatre.
Quatre blinked and accepted the offer of water. "Ah...thanks." He took a drink, careful to take only a small amount, and offered it back. "Thank you for inviting me. I enjoy spending time with you, as well." Then he paused, arm still outstretched, and stared at Trowa with wide, startled eyes.
Trowa took back the water bottle, pausing halfway to raising it to his mouth as Quatre's eyes widened. "...What is it?"
Quatre blinked again, and his lips twitched. He shook his head quickly. "It's nothing," he said, sounding a little strained as he tried to keep his voice under control. "Really."
That was not convincing in the slightest. "What's wrong?" Trowa moved closer to the blond, his brow furrowing slightly. "Is it a hallucination?"
Quatre twitched in surprise and shook his head, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, and then tilting his head back to smile at Trowa brightly. "No, no, nothing at all like that. I was just...remembering something from when I was little. Etiquette lessons."
Trowa raised an eyebrow, not sure whether to believe it. "What did you remember?"
"Pink plastic teacups," Quatre offered with grin, some of his amusement sliding away as he realized that he'd probably worried Trowa. "The youngest of my sisters would make me practice with them sometimes."
"...How do you keep all their names straight?" Trowa smirked a little, taking a sip from the water bottle to hide it.
"A song," Quatre said in all seriousness, though his lips twitched some. "I learned it before I learned my letters."
Trowa chuckled, unable to help it. "Who took the time to write it?" He shifted on the bed to lean against the wall.
Quatre leaned back on his arms, tilting his head to gaze at the ceiling in thought. He shrugged at Trowa. "Probably Cindy." He said finally, and then tilted his head in good natured almost-embarrassment at Trowa. "She's the only one I know of who has the patience to fill a notebook in one day."
"They sound like an interesting group." Trowa commented, taking another sip and leaving the bottle in between them in case Quatre wanted some.
Quatre's smile softened, maybe a little sad. "Yeah, they are." He glanced at the water but didn't reach for it. "...What about you?" He didn't hesitate when asking it, blurting it out, really, but Quatre, after a moment, wondered with a little uncertainty if it really was the best thing to say.
"What did I remember?" Trowa clarified, glancing at the blond. "Childhood memories, only up to what I think to be age ten."
Quatre tilted his head curiously and relaxed, just a little, shifting up higher on the bed (carefully, so as to not disturb the water bottle) and settled with his legs crossed, facing Trowa. "Really? So...you're getting your earliest memories back first?" Childhood memories...that couldn't be too bad, right? A little part of Quatre's mind informed him that, yes, it could be, but Quatre ignored it for now.
"I suppose that makes sense. Those are the oldest memories." Trowa turned so that they were facing each other, feeling better than he'd been all week. He didn't like being alone for too long, but it was still awkward being around people who remembered him that he had no memories of.
Quatre grinned, and then smiled, shutting his eyes and nodding his head once. "Yeah, I suppose so." He almost wished that it would be the other way around, and that the other pilot would remember them first, but Quatre wasn't picky. He just wanted Trowa to be content with himself...as much as possible. Quatre's smile wavered and he glanced down, something that had been bothering him finally making itself known. "Trowa...? Did you...?"
Trowa gave the smaller teen a questioning look, shifting closer. "Hm?"
Quatre shook his head at his lap. "It's probably nothing but...did you...did you really want these memories back?" Would you have wanted them back if we had never returned to your life? Quatre looked up as he said it, determined not to hide. Not from Trowa. They were all so young for war, and Trowa had been given the chance at a relatively normal life without the knowledge of what he'd done hanging over his shoulder...Quatre wondered if taking that away from him was fair...if it was something Trowa would live to regret someday.
...If not something he already regretted.
"Yes." Trowa said without hesitation. "Those memories are a part of me." It didn't matter how horrible they could be, he still wanted them back. He wanted to know who these people were, had to remember what they had been to him. It was just like his decision to go back with Quatre, to leave the circus that had been his home; it was something he just knew that he had to do.
Quatre did nothing for a moment, head tilted forward so shadows fell across his eyes. Then, he smiled, fists clenching as he breathed a sigh of...not relief, but acceptance, satisfaction; and the tension building in his shoulders lessened. "Ah...thank you, Trowa." He looked up and leaned forward, laughing softly. "It was...probably a silly worry, right?"
"It's understandable." Trowa tried to comfort the blond, a small smile lifting his lips upwards.
"...I suppose," Quatre said, and shook himself. He laughed, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. "I'm sorry. You're the one I'm here for and I'm talking about things like that." He smiled teasingly, "I bet you're regretting your choice in company now?"
"Not at all." Trowa shook his head, that same smile playing at his lips. "I'd prefer the company I have now to most."
Quatre grinned, "well, then I guess I should be honored," he said, and bowed as best he could sitting down cross-legged, throwing an arm out theatrically.
Again Trowa chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "I don't see why."
That earned him a tap on the leg, Quatre reaching out with a foot to do it, and a grin. "Well, I don't know why, either," he said, and half stuck out his tongue. "Maybe it's because you're the type of boy some of my sisters would absolutely adore." He tilted his head. "On second thought, maybe I should leave now. They'll probably tear me apart for information the second I get back to them if they find out." He smiled good naturedly.
Trowa blinked, confused. He'd never thought of himself as attractive in any way - he was just too quiet for most people. "I am?" He questioned his voice neutral to the confusion he felt.
Quatre tilted his head, grinning softly and chuckling. "My sisters would certainly think so. They always talk about the tall, dark, and silent types from their books and, according to most romance novels, you, my friend, need a beautiful, innocent young flower to open your heart to the world." Quatre shrugged, embarrassed again. "They say that girls like things like that."
Trowa wasn't entirely sure he wanted a 'beautiful, innocent young flower'. In fact, the thought didn't sound appealing at all. "No damsel in distress?" He replied, his face comically serious.
Quatre blinked and then tucked a hand up against his mouth, trying to stifle his giggles. "Oh, of course there is! The innocent young flower usually ends up the focus of an evil man, didn't you know? And then she needs to be saved by her one true love, who realizes then that they were always meant to be." Quatre's smile softened behind his hand.
Letting loose another small laugh, Trowa took another drink of the water bottle. "But if her one true love is so silent, how will he profess his love to her?"
"Oh, well, they never stay silent for long," Quatre said with a shake of his finger. "Around their flower, they're as poetic as the stars, because they have no need for that wall they've had built up around their hearts." Admittedly for Quatre, there was nothing wrong with this, but to the lengths some people took it...
"As poetic as the stars? Are you certain you aren't that way?" Trowa raised an eyebrow, amused at the flowery language.
Quatre flushed, and reached out again to try and prod Trowa in the leg again. Possibly a bit harder than last time. "There's nothing wrong with being poetic," he protested, laughing.
"I never said there was anything wrong with it." Trowa grinned back in his own way, which was a slightly wider smile than normal.
"Well, it was implied," Quatre said, tucking his feet under him and reaching for the water bottle questioningly, grin widening so much it almost hurt, "besides, I'm missing two vital components to being a properly romantic example of the male species, as I'm reminded of quite constantly, thank you."
"The dark and the silent?" Trowa questioned, purposely leaving out the most obvious of the three.
"Yes!" Quatre said with a brightening laugh. "I like to think that height really doesn't matter, but I suppose I'm doomed." He took a sip of the water, passing it back.
"It depends." Trowa shrugged, his mouth still tilted in a half-smile. "Height is relative. Just find a damsel that's shorter than you are."
"Ah, it's harder than it looks, you know...unless they're eight years or younger." Quatre smiled brightly, thinking of the ladies his father had usually introduced him to at the occasional ball he could force Quatre to attend...and how much taller they usually were, "though I've been told that if I really wanted to, I could probably pass myself off as nine."
"Maybe you'll hit a growth spurt." The thought of Quatre trying to look like a nine-year-old was terribly amusing, mostly because he could actually pass for one.
"It's something to hope for," Quatre agreed, and his lips twitched again. "Though I'm sure my sisters would be terribly displeased." They knew what Quatre looked like when he was trying for nine years old, after all.
"I think you'd be rather tall for a nine-year-old." Trowa commented, barely holding back a laugh.
"My nine-year-old self had a growth spurt," Quatre retorted, lifting his chin in as haughty a way as he could manage (which wasn't much, since Quatre was Quatre.) "It's something he's very proud of, you know."
"Inner children aren't supposed to become outer ones." Trowa smirked, amused at the thought.
"Duo would probably disagree," Quatre replied quietly, and giggled. He hadn't laughed this much in a very long time. It felt good.
"I would expect him to." The brunette nodded, watching Quatre laugh and unable to stop himself from smiling.
Quatre grinned, laughter dying away but not taking with it the warm and content feeling that had settled comfortably around his shoulders. Nothing to say came to mind, and so Quatre didn't bother to say anything. He just shut his eyes and leaned back, smile not quite leaving his lips.
Trowa didn't say anything either, content to just watch Quatre smile - truly smile, not smile to hide what he was really feeling or to reassure someone.
Again he was struck with the realization that he just couldn't wait to remember. He wanted to know if these feelings he had for the blond were new, or if he'd had them all along.