GW Fic: A Harlequin goes to London 1/1
Title: A Harlequin goes to London
Notes: PG, 3+4, humour, romance, adventure, no beta
First of the 'Post War Arc': Trowa goes on a sabbatical to look for something he has been missing since the end of the 'Gundam Era'. In the cosmopolitan streets of London, he may just find what he was looking for.
~*~
The war was over - now what?
Everything that my life had been building up to has ended with a big bang - quite literally. Don't get me wrong, I was glad that all the senseless death and destruction has ended, but I couldn't help but feel a little lost, kind of useless and very much redundant.
Life had taught me little but to destroy. For as long as I can remember I have taken lives, homes and hope - simply because I was ordered to. Well, the orders have stopped. I have no more reason to destroy, so where did that leave me? Was there a place in the new world for someone like me? I doubted that. The demilitarisation of the world's nations was prove enough that soldiers like myself were no longer needed... or wanted.
I blinked absently at the mug of lukewarm coffee in my hands. I had been nursing it for the better part of an hour. It wasn't even working. I still felt tried and lethargic. I had a nasty feeling that I had grown somewhat immune to the paltry effects of caffeine in the humble coffee bean. I also had a sneaking suspicion that this weariness had nothing to do with my feeling physically tired.
It was all in my head and deep within my heart.
Eighteen months have passed since Marimeia's Insurrection and the disposal of our Gundams. With wide-eyed enthusiasm, we left each other to pursue our dreams and fulfil a life that was to be our own. Each one of us now had the chance to live the way we dictated and not be bound by the duties and responsibilities of owning a Gundam. We carried on, never once crossing paths.
Coincidence or design?
We were a formidable team but together we represented an era of war, pain and death. Maybe it was for the better that we became estranged.
It sounded find and dandy in my head, why then could I not feel happy about that decision?
I grew up a mercenary and had a terrible nagging feeling that I would die one. It felt like my entire life was building up to fight this earth shattering war, that I would help change the course of history and that I would most likely die in a glorious battle. I never once planned on a life beyond the Eve Wars. I never believed that there would be anything for me beyond that.
Yet there I was, alive and kicking, sitting in a truck stop in Dover, drinking cold coffee, feeling more lost than I cared to remember. I didn't feel like I had what it takes to fit in this society of peace. What did I have that could be service to the community? I was not the businessman Quatre was or the entrepreneur Duo had become or the officer that Wufei rose to be. As for Heero, I had no news of him whatsoever. So where could I fit in?
I spent nine months with Cathy. She was great, almost like family. For all we knew, she was family. We could've easily confirmed if we were truly siblings by doing a simple DNA test but neither one of us ever suggested it. I believe we were more afraid to find out that we weren't, thereby shattering the illusion of familial ties that we have grown comfortable with. We liked the assumption that we were; it gave us some sense of belonging.
It broke her heart when I said I was going. I broke her heart when I said I was leaving.
I had to. I may belong with her but I certainly didn't belong with the circus. There was only so long I could bear having knives thrown at me or caring for the lions before I went completely barmy. In short, I was bored. As much as I thought I wanted it, the 'quiet life' was not for me.
Don't get me wrong; my love for Cathy knows no bounds. She was everything to me, and she has cared for me long before she even began suspecting that I could actually be her long lost brother. I still write to her and the lions, sent post cards from each city I stopped in. In fact I have one sitting right in front of me waiting to be posted. She must have quite a cache now.
I've worked my way around North America, most of Asia and was now on the European leg of the journey. I didn't have much money to begin with but that didn't worry me. I knew that I could find jobs anywhere as long as I was willing to get my hands dirty. And, boy, they, along with the rest of me, did get a little messy at times.
It was enlightening to say the least. I worked in bars and restaurants, hotels and summer camps all over the continent. I taught English in South East Asia and Japanese in America. I fixed cars and operated heavy machinery, I helped construct buildings and bring them down. I modelled on the Parisian catwalks and, God forbid, even stripped for raunchy Amsterdam joints.
As soon as I made enough to feed myself and pay for a roof over my head at my next destination, wherever that may be, I would move on. I wasn't there to make my millions; I was there in search of ... adventure? My calling? My destiny? A purpose in life? Whatever that was, it's damned elusive.
I picked up Cathy's postcard and stared blankly at it. It had a picture of the White Cliffs of Dover with a bogus set of letter that spelled out 'ENGLAND' - much like the famous Hollywood monument. I thought it was funny. And if one didn't know Earth's geography, you wouldn't associate the white chalk cliffs with England. The note itself was of the simple 'wish you were here' tone. I didn't always write long mushy postcards, especially not when sitting in a rowdy truck stop. Who would've thought that there would be so much life in here at three a.m.?
I gulped down the rest of my now-cold coffee and picked up my gear. I was still keen on my original plan to ride into London through the night. The less traffic I had to contend with, the better. Although I heard that English motorways can be pretty confusing at times and I had no doubt that London will be well sign posted, even from the far reaches of Land's End and John O'Groats.
Five hours later I finally found my way into London, well at least I was WITHIN the North Circular Road which marked the border of the city. It was nothing short of a miracle. When they say it was pretty confusing, they were lying. I never had much of a problem finding my way around when I was in my Gundam. Of course, I had state of the art navigational equipment in my Gundam. All I had with my Kawasaki were my eyes to guide me.
Okay, now what?
I was in London, that much I knew. WHERE exactly in London, I didn't have a clue. Even at 7 a.m. on a Saturday morning, the town was already bustling. Or should I say still bustling from last night's parties.
I made my way to the first open shop and bought myself a bottle of water and an A to Z of London. There was no better way to find your way around a city like London than with the most comprehensive map available - or so I was told. I also asked the shopkeeper where I was. He looked at my funny for a moment, and then must've concluded I was one of the many party revellers who were as pissed as newt to not know where I was. It didn't bother me in the least what he thought of me - I have bigger things to concern myself with.
He told me we were in the Greenwich area. Well, that made a huge difference since I had no idea where Greenwich was in relation to the city. All I knew was where the Greenwich Meridian Time line was located. Nevertheless I thanked him and left his shop. He was a tad too cranky for my liking.
I mounted my bike and went in search of a place where I could sit down for breakfast and examine the map. Fortunately for me, most of London was a 24-hr city. It was my nose which led to me to the cafe and not my eyes. I parked my knackered butt down on one of the seats outside and ordered a large slice of carrot cake and a double espresso con panna. Maybe a cup of proper coffee would wake me; unlike the sad excuse of the truck stop beverage I had four hours ago.
The waitress was pleasant and very much awake. Her bubbly personality and brilliant smile reminded me of Duo. The pay must be good, I thought, otherwise where would anyone find the impetus to rise this early to work in a cafe if the pay wasn't good. Perhaps she liked the interaction that came hand in hand with waitressing or maybe she enjoyed being in service to others. Sheah, right! And I'm not gay.
The waitress, Anne, came back with my order. She was truly reminiscent of Duo. Large bright eyes, dark hair and a never ceasing smile. I found myself missing the braided fool and the others. If I really did miss them, then why did I not put in the effort in staying in touch with them? I even avoided Geneva simply because I knew the Preventers headquarters was there. I guess I needed to find this elusive ... thing of mine before I could re-establish old ties.
Shaking melancholy thoughts out of my head I began looking for the Greenwich area on my map, trying to ascertain the best place for me to go. First of all, I needed to find a hotel. My latest stints in Amsterdam and Paris allowed me to save up a pretty penny to splurge in this metropolis. No more YMCA hostels and dingy bed and breakfasts. I was determined to pamper myself in a nice hotel for the next week.
After ten minutes of staring at the A to Z, I was beginning to see stars. They weren't kidding when they say "A to Z". But if I wanted to get anywhere, I would first need to know WHERE to go. This book, comprehensive as it is, is only helpful if I needed to find out HOW to get there.
Anne swung by my table again asking if everything was okay. I seized the opportunity to glean some information from her. She was more than willing to help, and flirt with, me.
I tried not to lead her on, but I was not prepared to tell her that I'd sooner get off with her brother, if he was just as cute as she, than her! Anne was very helpful, as well as giving me names and numbers of hotels and also told me about clubs, restaurants and pubs. I had a sneaking suspicion that they were the same ones that she frequented, or will be frequenting.
After another 'complimentary' espresso I finally made my way away from Anne's little cafe. She was sweet. Now, if only I could get half as many cute guys interested in me!
I chuckled to myself. Was I really in that much need of attention? No, I had plenty of attention, from the 'wrong' gender, no less, so it was not attention I needed. It was companionship.
I thought I'd had that with the other pilots, I thought I'd had that with Cathy. I guess I was wrong. What I had with the pilots were a common sense of purpose. Now that that purpose has been fulfilled, I didn't feel we had anything else. As for Cathy, she's my sister. She takes care of me, I take care of her, but I cannot share my life with her the way I would with a lover.
Is that what I was searching for? A lover?
It sounded trite. Cheap. No, I didn't want one. I could've had plenty in the last 9 months of travelling. Oriental, Occidental, tall, short, dark, fair, girl, boy - you name it, I've had it come on to me. Each and every time I politely refused. If they didn't take no for an answer, I ran. If they pursued, I hid.
No, I wasn't looking for a cheap date and a quick shag. I was looking for something more. I was looking for someone to come home to. Notwithstanding, I felt I needed to find myself before I could find someone to dedicate my life to. That probably was why I had been roaming the Earth Sphere without clear purpose, direction or result.
Before I knew it, I had successfully made my way to Mayfair. It was an area a little more snazzy that I expected to be staying in, but what is a few quid more? I had enough for a modest room in the Holiday Inn Mayfair - although 'modest' in their interpretation was nothing less than a king-sized bed with feather down pillows, a mini bar, facilities to make tea, coffee or hot chocolate, a small reception area for you to entertain guests, complimentary chocolates and biscuits, twelve different channels to watch and a full English breakfast every morning.
That, to me, was luxury, not just 'modest'. Luxury or no, I convinced myself that I deserved a little pampering and proceeded to indulge in the opulence that came with the room. I ate the pralines and the shortbread biscuits, drank the wine and used up all the bubble bath while listening to a cool mix of jazz over the airwaves.
I had been roughing it out in the past four cities, saving up just for something like this. This was worth every cold shower, draughty domicile and cardboard pizza that I had endured.
After indulging, I decided to hit Oxford Street. I could so with some new clothes and perhaps some fashion accessories! I didn't know if it was the wine in me that was making me feel frivolous and flighty or if it was the ebullient atmosphere of the city that had me intoxicated. Whatever the impetus, I was already enjoying my stay here.
Pulling my hair into a ponytail, I made a mental note to get it cut. It was getting ridiculous. It was long enough to just skim my shoulders. My fringe still had a mind of its own, which is now getting more uncontrollable due to its length. I was fortunate now that most of it was long enough to be pulled back into a ponytail. Whoa! I can see BOTH my eyes at the same time!
I had neglected cutting it for the past few months simply because I just couldn't be arsed. I was surprised that the fashion magazines and catwalks wanted me with my hair long. I had hopes that they would give me a hair cut by some chic stylist but evidently they liked the grungy, tousled look on me.
I inspected the little tail sticking out at the nape of my neck to see if I missed any strands. It was then I found myself thinking of Wufei. If my hair were darker, it would've looked exactly like his trademark ponytail. I smiled at the memory of him; of the time we had our first cup of coffee at the circus in silent contemplation of that day's battle. Something in me told me that we could've been good friends if we had bothered cultivating such a relationship. But in that time we were together, we were too busy trying to stay alive and keep true to our missions.
I picked up my jacket and went a hunting for the nearest Tube station. It was the best way to get around Central London.
Or so I was led to believe.
Oh bollocks....
I stood stupidly gaping at the large Tube map plastered to the station wall. I was lost. How could I possible get lost? I was a Gundam pilot, damnit! Gundam pilots DO NOT get lost in Underground circuits!
I blamed it on the wine.
I sighed and focused my thoughts. I made it around the Parisian Metro circuit; surely I can lick the London Tube circuit?
The green line connected to the red line, the red line connected to the blue line, the blue line connected to the black line, the black line... I slapped myself mentally for singing that oh-so-annoying tune. I would regret this knowing that would stick in my brain for the rest of the day.
Drawing back my attention to the map, I thanked my lucky stars I was not colour-blind.
An hour later, I was finally at the Oxford Circus Tube station - where I should've been in the first place an hour and a half ago. Hmmm, being lost seemed to be the theme of this chapter of my journey. Someday, I'll find my way, or maybe someone would find me instead and lead me onto the right path.
The streets were teeming with activity - people rushing from store to store with arms full of their latest purchase. I looked around - ahh... there was sale going on. I wondered if was I brave enough to tackle and challenge the locals in their hunt for the best bargains. Well, you only live once.
Four hours later I staggered out of Selfridges, bleary eyed and significantly poorer, arms laden with trinkets and gifts a plenty. I never thought that I, of all people, would go completely out of hand while shopping.
Definitely the wine or maybe it was all that espresso. Perhaps even the cumulative effects of both.
I searched the crowded street for a place to rest my weary feet. Further up along the way, I spotted a Starbucks. I almost didn't see it if it were not for a twenty-something girl almost throwing her takeaway cappuccino over me. She grunted inarticulately and hastily rushed off. Hmm, hasn't that grunt been patented by Heero? I smiled at the memory of him and all the times when Duo attempted to engage him in a civilised conversation.
Deciding that I had had enough coffee for the day, I went for a peppermint tea instead. I also ordered a plain old toasted ham and cheese sandwich to go with it. I found a seat tucked away in a far corner of the first floor overlooking the street. I had a good view of the hubbub below me - people bustling from shop to shop, cars rushing to get past the many traffic lights that littered the street. There must have been about twenty lights for the one-mile stretch of road. Why would anyone need that many lights?
I watched them. Watch them go about their daily routine, watch them experience the peace that we fought on behalf of them without truly appreciating it. Did they know or understand how many sacrifices soldiers made for these shoppers to even be able walk this street without fear? Maybe not... most likely not. I don't know if I should envy them for they would never have to see the awful truth of attaining peace or pity them for they would never understand and appreciate the true beauty of it.
Damn! Was I getting cynical in my old age or had I always been like this?
I scoffed at my own pessimism and diverted my attention back to my sandwich. After wolfing it down I pulled out a stack of novelty postcards I bought from various stalls and searched for my pen. This time I bought enough postcards for everyone I know - even Dorothy Catalonia. Hmm... must be something in the air.
I took my time in writing the postcards, some more detailed than others. No matter how I tried, I just couldn't get past 'Hi, how have you been doing?' when writing to people like Lady Une, Zechs, Relena and Dorothy. We barely exchanged ten words since we met. Then again, I don't think Relena and I have ever had a conversation. I was surprised that I even considered getting them postcards.
I managed to squeeze a little more words out for Heero and Wufei - that was quite a feat in itself; especially considering the only things we ever talked about were our missions and Gundams. Cathy and Duo had the most comprehensive account of my adventures since arriving in London. I was actually running out of space on the little card! Hilde, Sally and Noin had the abridge version.
As for Quatre's - his was still blank save his name.
I didn't know why I had a sudden dose of writer's block when it came to Quatre. Didn't know or didn't WANT to know?
I must be going crazy.
My eyes wandered back to the busy street below, my mind deliberately searching for a quick change of subject.
Suddenly out of the blue, I heard a noise that made my heart stopped for a second. It was melodious, cheerful and angelic. It was a laugh that I knew well. A laugh which I committed to memory the first time I heard it for fear of never hearing it again. I looked around the café, frantically searching for the source of that laugh.
It couldn't be him, could it?
The source of the laughter was rapid descending the stairs. I bolted out of my chair, nearly upsetting my table and rushed to top of the stairwell. Two retreating figures in merry conversation were on it. I stared at their backs and felt my disappointment rise. I was expecting one of them to be male and have blond locks. Well, one of them had a similar hair colour but was clearly female and her male companion had brown hair.
I chuckled and chided myself for being foolish. Why would he be in a poxy Starbucks in Oxford Street? He didn't even like coffee. In addition to that, I was certain that he would be too busy running his family business to be here.
I returned to my table and swept all the postcards into my John Lewis shopping bag. It was time to go. Shopping was fun, but going to a hip London club would be even better. First stop was the hotel to dump all my shopping, get dressed in the new gear I had purchased today, pretty myself up then park my skinny ass in a club and dance the night away.
~*~
Hippodrome.
That was what the flashing, gaudy pink fluorescent tube said. It wasn't exactly the swankiest in town but it was the biggest and brightest in Leicester Square. The queue extended around the block and it was only eight. I groan inwardly. I hated queues. At times like these, I rue the day I chose to remain anonymous. Then again, I would rather have to line up to get into clubs than have my face plastered all over the tabloids like Relena's was.
I shrugged and headed to the back of the queue. Tonight, I was just one of the masses so when in Rome...
"Hey gorgeous," a voice leered at me.
I was loathed to respond to it but it was kind of hard to ignore the pair of tits poking my ribs.
"Excuse me," I mumbled and tried to step around her.
"Are you shy or playing hard to get?" she would not let her prey go.
"Neither, I'm gay," I said nonchalantly and she giggled. For the first time since her bosom buddies came into view, I dared to look at her. She was quite pretty, if she didn't have an inch of make up on her. She was tall and thin with long red hair. Dressed in a gold bustier, a lacy jacket, mini leather skirt and boots, I felt she was exposing way too much flesh. She looked sixteen and had the aura of a pampered rich kid. Not my type - especially since she was the wrong sex.
"Gay? Then I don't have to worry about you taking advantage of me."
Some people just can't take the hint. Without warning, she latched onto my arm and whispered into my ear, "C'mon, I know a quicker way in."
I was tempted to ask 'in where?' but I held my tongue knowing that she would very likely misinterpret my sarcasm for a chat-up line.
"Miss, thanks but no thanks."
"Relax," she cooed and begun tugging me, "A big strong boy like you don't have to worry about little old me."
"Please, let go," I resisted.
I almost won too if she hadn't had reinforcements. A few more similarly dressed floozies appeared and I was cornered. Never in my time as a mercenary or Gundam pilot had I felt this outnumbered and helpless. This was one fight I knew I couldn't win by force. I prayed to whatever deity who was listening to make this as painless as possible.
Twittering. They were twittering! Not talking, twittering. I cringed as they dragged me along to wherever they going, wondering, one, why I wasn't putting up more of a fight, and two if twittering teenage girls like them were one of the reasons why I'm gay.
To my surprise, I wasn't dragged to some dodgy alleyway and force to scramble through the girls' toilet window to gain access to the club. I was taken to the VIP entrance of the club! Shame on me for being so judgemental.
"Miss Veronica, are they all with you?" a big burly bouncer asked the first girl who accosted me.
"Yes, they are," Veronica replied.
"Have a good time," the bouncer said and let us through. Envious eyes followed us as we sashayed into the club. Well the girls sashayed; I kind of got hauled along. Geez, why don't you put a leash on me? Oh, scrap that, she looked like the kind who WOULD too! If I was going to let anyone put a leash on me, it certainly wasn't going to be her. Not even if all of mankind depended it.
"Buy me a drink?" Veronica batted her eyelids at me. If that was an attempt at flirting, I've seen dead tortoises do better.
I nodded; it was the least I could do for her for getting me in the club so quickly, "What would you like?"
"Smirnoff Ice."
Being the gentleman I was, I offered to buy Veronica's flunkies drinks as well.
Arms laden with four Smirnoff Ice and a Bud I made my way back to the girls, wracking my brains on how to get away from them. Somehow I knew if I just disappeared, they would turn the place inside out to find me.
As soon as I distributed the drinks, Veronica latched herself on me again. Oh, why me? I would bide my time and look for a window of opportunity to be rid of her. I have spent days waiting to ambush Oz, I can wait an hour or so.
How the girls managed to have a conversation with music as loud as a sonic boom was beyond me. Yet there they stood before me, screaming at each other, commenting about the 'talent' that night and rating them. They even had the audacity to 'whisper' about me believing that if they spoke directly into each other's ears, I wouldn't hear. I wondered how embarrass they would be if they knew I could read lips.
God save me!
Some benevolent deity must've have heard me. For not too far away I spotted someone besides the girls checking me out. For the first time that night, that someone was of the right sex and rather cute too. Perhaps now Veronica would actually believe that I WAS gay.
Just as his eyes scrutinised me from head to toe, I gave him a similar once over. He was tall and of medium stature. Under those paint-on suede trousers I could see well-defined muscles. He wore a loose grey shirt, top button undone allowing observers a tantalizing glimpse of pale collarbone. His hair was dark, I couldn't tell the exact colour because of the various flashing coloured lights, and cut very closely only on the back and sides. Wispy locks tumbled into soft yet penetrating dark eyes. He had a sweeping jaw line and high cheekbones. Alluring, pouty lips widened into a seductive smile when he realised I was checking him out as he was checking me out.
An inquisitive eyebrow rose as our gaze locked. If I was as good as reading body language as I was reading lips then the silent question was - if you're gay, why do you have a bird hanging off your arm?
I shrugged helplessly, rolled my eyes, hoped that he understood my message of 'because she's thick and couldn't take the hint. Come save me.'
He regarded me for a moment, looked at her then laughed. I made puppy eyes at him and I could almost see him become putty in my hands. He took one last swig of his beer, set the bottle down and made a beeline for me.
"Hey," he said into my ear and my legs almost gave way. That voice, almost familiar, was like melted chocolate - warm, sweet, almost forbidden and thoroughly satisfying. All that from one word? I must be feeling horny.
"Hi," I replied oh-so-intelligently. At this point, Veronica and her friends had noticed the newcomer invading their territory. If looks could kill. Pity neither the newcomer nor I could care less.
"Wanna dance?"
"Thought you'd never ask," I extricated myself from Veronica's clutches and followed the cute brunette to the dance floor. I could almost hear Veronica and her friends gasp, outraged that I was not making goo-goo eyes at the queen bee of the hive instead I was going to dance with another guy.
I turned to her briefly and gave her an 'I told you I was gay' smile. It could be so much fun screwing with their minds.
Watching him go before me, a nagging feeling that I had met him before rose. I almost asked but decided not too. Too cliché.
He virtually skipped to the middle of the dance floor and wasted no time in dancing to the beat. And MAN, could the boy dance. I was sorely tempted to merely sit and watch him move, similarly I wanted to feel that taut body pressed against me as we rumba around the parquet.
Three quick strides closed the gap between us. I swept him into my arms and whirled him around. We moved to the rhythm of the music, never missing a beat, we were poetry in motion. He was light on his feet and very graceful. Compared to him, I felt like I had two left feet - and that was saying something, considering I was a gymnast. I was completely mesmerised by him. He was intoxicating and all we have shared was just a dance or maybe two or three. I had lost count.
Then I heard him laugh.
And my heart stopped.
I spun him around, held him close and peered closely into his brown eyes, searching for some recognition. I was certain I would've grasped it if it weren't for the electrifying kiss he planted on my lips to distract me. That was cheating.
I could've sworn the lights went out. Or maybe it was just the strobes. In any case, when the lights came back on, I was alone in the middle of the dance floor feeling rather like a noddy.
What the heck happened?
We were dancing, we were having a good time, we were on the verge of committing public naughtiness on the dance floor, I stopped to look at him and he bolted?
Eh?
I made my way off the dance floor and headed to the bar. I needed a drink.
Men are so confusing...
Not to mention infuriating.
Feeling deflated after being left high and dry, I downed the rest of my drink and decided to head back to my hotel. I stomped grumpily out of the Hippodrome, nearly mowing down Veronica as she attempted to waylay me again.
"Good lord, woman!" I exclaimed; my tact and manners went flying out the window, "What does it take to convince you that I am gay? Gay, queer, homosexual, batting for the same team, G-A-Y!"
The sheer look of horror on her face was almost enough to lift my dour mood; almost. She stuck her nose up high, spun around and marched off haughtily. I believed that no one had the audacity to spurn her. Well, we all learn something new everyday.
~*~
I shuffled into my hotel room, feeling sorry for myself. What a way to crash and burn on my first night in this metropolis! I stripped myself of my smoke and beer smelling clothes and ran another bath. I needed some comforting. I was glad to find my supply of wine and chocolate had been replenished. I turned on the radio and sank gratefully into the steaming water.
Not long after being in the bath, I heard a faint sound that sounded suspiciously like the click of a lock. I listened intently for further sounds of movement. I heard nothing. Geez, not only am I becoming cynical in my old age, I was getting paranoid too. Long after I drained the wine, finished the chocolates and shrivelled up like a prune was I content to get out of the bath. I didn't feel better, only drunker. Ah well, you can't have it all.
I wrapped the white, fluffly towel around my waist and padded out to the bedroom. I toyed with the idea of ordering a cheesy movie or going to bed - the night was still kind of young.
I flicked the lights on in the bedroom and almost had my third coronary of the day.
There sat upon my bed was the very brunette that jilted me on the dance floor.
I stood gaping stupidly at him. What? How? Who?
He smiled cheekily at me, his eyes twinkling. His eyes - they were no longer brown but bright blue instead. A pox upon the inventor of coloured contact lenses. His eyes, the very same pair that entranced me for so very long and made me finally accept that I liked boys and not girls.
The eyes were the same but the hair was not.
"You'd better shut that mouth of your before something unpleasant flies into it," he purred.
I snapped my jaw shut and my brows furrowed in confusion.
"How much have you had to drink?" he spoke again - oh that caramel voice sprinkled with a generous amount seduction was doing funny, but welcomed, things to me.
"What?"
"Your eyes are glazed over. I know you can take your alcohol well, so you must have been drinking quite a lot to get that adorable, glazed look."
"How did you get in?"
"Oh, nice to see you too, Trowa," he pouted, "Is this how you greet friends you haven't seen in eighteen months or do I get the special treatment?"
Ok, any moment now my brain was going to explode. I should really keep off the wine.
The hair may be different but it was definitely him. He was more flirtatious, bolder and no longer just beautiful. He was drop dead gorgeous and I was certain that blood had stopped reaching my brain mainly because it was pooling in my groin. How could a mere mortal do that to another person?
No, he was no mortal.
Quatre was divine.
"Oh, you definitely get the special treatment," I heard myself say. Hmmm, I must have somehow regained my composure - somehow.
"That's nice to know," he shifted to lie on his front, propping his chin up on his palms, "So what brings you to London?"
Damn! He's sexy in an innocent kind of way, if that made sense at all, "Funny, I was about to ask the same of you."
"I live here now."
"You do?" I was surprised.
"Uh, huh, I've been here about six months."
"How come?"
"I've started my undergraduate degree at Imperial College," oh, that smile of his, like a seraphim - angelic yet deadly, "Besides, I like the place, I like the people and I think the English can be so romantic. I particularly like the tea too. The English have a real appreciation of this exotic beverage."
"The tea," I chortled, "Trust you to move to a whole different country just for tea."
"Well, we all have our poisons," he rolled on to his back and hung his head off the edge, "You didn't say why you were here."
"I thought the hotel would be a dead giveaway," I began rummaging through my shopping bags for the new underwear I bought earlier, "I'm on holiday."
"Holiday?" his eyebrows rose, although from my point of view they dropped, "Trowa Barton taking a holiday? What next? Heero winning an elocution contest?"
"Don't get cheeky, Winner," I wagged my finger at him, "You may have grown but I'm still bigger and stronger than you. And I remember all your ticklish spots."
"Is that a threat or a promise?" he drawled making me shiver. I hoped he didn't see that. The last thing I wanted to do was let him know that he had me firmly wrapped around his little finger. If Quatre had asked me to streak across the Ritz in my birthday suit, I probably would have.
I knew I was going to lose this game if I didn't do something quick. A wicked thought ran through my head, perhaps this would catch him off guard, even if it was only for a moment.
Just as I pulled a pair of boxers from the bag, I dropped my towel and mooned him for a second before stepping into them. A satisfied smile spread across my face when I heard him gasp and choke. The gaze that raked across my pert bottom was almost palpable.
"So, what's with the new hair do?" I asked, deliberately casual.
"I was experimenting, plus platinum blond stands out too much."
"You sound like a wanted man."
"One can only hope."
Okay, a man can only bear so much innuendo in one night. When in the world did Quatre turn into such a flirt? He was playing with fire and this blaze was roaring.
Before he knew it, I had him pinned down on the bed, practically drooling on him. My lithe body firmly pressed against his. I purred at him and felt him shiver, "I hope you weren't just teasing, pussy cat, because you've just let the tiger loose and he will get his prey tonight."
Quatre smirked seductively and looked at me through his lashes, "I have been waiting for you to find me and say that for the last two years."
"You have?" I blinked stupidly.
"Sometimes you can be so thick, Trowa Barton," he tittered, "But I am a patient man and some things are well worth the wait."
"Then I'd better not disappoint."
"You could never be a disappointment to me."
~*~
I certainly enjoyed that week in London, and a week ended up being a month, then a year and it has been four now. The best four years of my life.
I started out on my Earthen sojourn looking for a new purpose in life believing that if I found it everything would fall neatly into place. Little did I know that the thing I was searching for was not a new beginning, but the next step of a journey that began in AC 195.
Although I didn't believe in fate or destiny, I sometimes wondered if they had a hand in putting Quatre and I in the right place at the right time. Nevertheless, I was taught to never look a gift horse in the mouth. If the powers that be saw fit to bring us together, then so be it.
I looked out into Hyde Park from our Kensington apartment. We have woken up to this glorious sight for years and each and every day made me more appreciative of peace we both fought to attain. The pain we endured and sacrifices we made were worth it if we had people we loved to share it with.
As I gazed dreamily into the leafy foliage, I felt familiar arms encircle me.
"You ready to go?" my angel asked. We were moving back to the space colony of L4. Quatre had finished his Batchelor and Masters degrees and it was time to go home. Home, to me, was where Quatre was.
"Yeah," I nodded, "Hey, you remember the day we met here?"
"How could I forget?"
"I mean earlier that day. Do you remember where you were?"
"Yeah, shopping on Oxford Street with my friend Jenny, I needed a new pair of trousers for clubbing. Why?"
"You didn't happen to stop by Starbucks did you? The one by the Sock Shop? At about four?"
"As a matter of fact we did. Don't tell me you were there too?"
"I was. I heard you laugh but when I went to look for you I saw someone who was clearly female and the other one with brown hair. I thought I was imagining things and that there was no way it could've been you," I chuckled.
"I thought I was imagining things too when I saw you at the Hippodrome. Lucky I didn't brush the sight of you off as wishful thinking, eh?"
"Lucky you didn't," I felt him kiss the nape of my neck, "I'm going to miss this place."
"So am I," he sighed, "London really is magical, huh?"
I turned to face him and kissed him, "Yeah, they have angels here."
~Fin~
Notes: PG, 3+4, humour, romance, adventure, no beta
First of the 'Post War Arc': Trowa goes on a sabbatical to look for something he has been missing since the end of the 'Gundam Era'. In the cosmopolitan streets of London, he may just find what he was looking for.
~*~
The war was over - now what?
Everything that my life had been building up to has ended with a big bang - quite literally. Don't get me wrong, I was glad that all the senseless death and destruction has ended, but I couldn't help but feel a little lost, kind of useless and very much redundant.
Life had taught me little but to destroy. For as long as I can remember I have taken lives, homes and hope - simply because I was ordered to. Well, the orders have stopped. I have no more reason to destroy, so where did that leave me? Was there a place in the new world for someone like me? I doubted that. The demilitarisation of the world's nations was prove enough that soldiers like myself were no longer needed... or wanted.
I blinked absently at the mug of lukewarm coffee in my hands. I had been nursing it for the better part of an hour. It wasn't even working. I still felt tried and lethargic. I had a nasty feeling that I had grown somewhat immune to the paltry effects of caffeine in the humble coffee bean. I also had a sneaking suspicion that this weariness had nothing to do with my feeling physically tired.
It was all in my head and deep within my heart.
Eighteen months have passed since Marimeia's Insurrection and the disposal of our Gundams. With wide-eyed enthusiasm, we left each other to pursue our dreams and fulfil a life that was to be our own. Each one of us now had the chance to live the way we dictated and not be bound by the duties and responsibilities of owning a Gundam. We carried on, never once crossing paths.
Coincidence or design?
We were a formidable team but together we represented an era of war, pain and death. Maybe it was for the better that we became estranged.
It sounded find and dandy in my head, why then could I not feel happy about that decision?
I grew up a mercenary and had a terrible nagging feeling that I would die one. It felt like my entire life was building up to fight this earth shattering war, that I would help change the course of history and that I would most likely die in a glorious battle. I never once planned on a life beyond the Eve Wars. I never believed that there would be anything for me beyond that.
Yet there I was, alive and kicking, sitting in a truck stop in Dover, drinking cold coffee, feeling more lost than I cared to remember. I didn't feel like I had what it takes to fit in this society of peace. What did I have that could be service to the community? I was not the businessman Quatre was or the entrepreneur Duo had become or the officer that Wufei rose to be. As for Heero, I had no news of him whatsoever. So where could I fit in?
I spent nine months with Cathy. She was great, almost like family. For all we knew, she was family. We could've easily confirmed if we were truly siblings by doing a simple DNA test but neither one of us ever suggested it. I believe we were more afraid to find out that we weren't, thereby shattering the illusion of familial ties that we have grown comfortable with. We liked the assumption that we were; it gave us some sense of belonging.
It broke her heart when I said I was going. I broke her heart when I said I was leaving.
I had to. I may belong with her but I certainly didn't belong with the circus. There was only so long I could bear having knives thrown at me or caring for the lions before I went completely barmy. In short, I was bored. As much as I thought I wanted it, the 'quiet life' was not for me.
Don't get me wrong; my love for Cathy knows no bounds. She was everything to me, and she has cared for me long before she even began suspecting that I could actually be her long lost brother. I still write to her and the lions, sent post cards from each city I stopped in. In fact I have one sitting right in front of me waiting to be posted. She must have quite a cache now.
I've worked my way around North America, most of Asia and was now on the European leg of the journey. I didn't have much money to begin with but that didn't worry me. I knew that I could find jobs anywhere as long as I was willing to get my hands dirty. And, boy, they, along with the rest of me, did get a little messy at times.
It was enlightening to say the least. I worked in bars and restaurants, hotels and summer camps all over the continent. I taught English in South East Asia and Japanese in America. I fixed cars and operated heavy machinery, I helped construct buildings and bring them down. I modelled on the Parisian catwalks and, God forbid, even stripped for raunchy Amsterdam joints.
As soon as I made enough to feed myself and pay for a roof over my head at my next destination, wherever that may be, I would move on. I wasn't there to make my millions; I was there in search of ... adventure? My calling? My destiny? A purpose in life? Whatever that was, it's damned elusive.
I picked up Cathy's postcard and stared blankly at it. It had a picture of the White Cliffs of Dover with a bogus set of letter that spelled out 'ENGLAND' - much like the famous Hollywood monument. I thought it was funny. And if one didn't know Earth's geography, you wouldn't associate the white chalk cliffs with England. The note itself was of the simple 'wish you were here' tone. I didn't always write long mushy postcards, especially not when sitting in a rowdy truck stop. Who would've thought that there would be so much life in here at three a.m.?
I gulped down the rest of my now-cold coffee and picked up my gear. I was still keen on my original plan to ride into London through the night. The less traffic I had to contend with, the better. Although I heard that English motorways can be pretty confusing at times and I had no doubt that London will be well sign posted, even from the far reaches of Land's End and John O'Groats.
Five hours later I finally found my way into London, well at least I was WITHIN the North Circular Road which marked the border of the city. It was nothing short of a miracle. When they say it was pretty confusing, they were lying. I never had much of a problem finding my way around when I was in my Gundam. Of course, I had state of the art navigational equipment in my Gundam. All I had with my Kawasaki were my eyes to guide me.
Okay, now what?
I was in London, that much I knew. WHERE exactly in London, I didn't have a clue. Even at 7 a.m. on a Saturday morning, the town was already bustling. Or should I say still bustling from last night's parties.
I made my way to the first open shop and bought myself a bottle of water and an A to Z of London. There was no better way to find your way around a city like London than with the most comprehensive map available - or so I was told. I also asked the shopkeeper where I was. He looked at my funny for a moment, and then must've concluded I was one of the many party revellers who were as pissed as newt to not know where I was. It didn't bother me in the least what he thought of me - I have bigger things to concern myself with.
He told me we were in the Greenwich area. Well, that made a huge difference since I had no idea where Greenwich was in relation to the city. All I knew was where the Greenwich Meridian Time line was located. Nevertheless I thanked him and left his shop. He was a tad too cranky for my liking.
I mounted my bike and went in search of a place where I could sit down for breakfast and examine the map. Fortunately for me, most of London was a 24-hr city. It was my nose which led to me to the cafe and not my eyes. I parked my knackered butt down on one of the seats outside and ordered a large slice of carrot cake and a double espresso con panna. Maybe a cup of proper coffee would wake me; unlike the sad excuse of the truck stop beverage I had four hours ago.
The waitress was pleasant and very much awake. Her bubbly personality and brilliant smile reminded me of Duo. The pay must be good, I thought, otherwise where would anyone find the impetus to rise this early to work in a cafe if the pay wasn't good. Perhaps she liked the interaction that came hand in hand with waitressing or maybe she enjoyed being in service to others. Sheah, right! And I'm not gay.
The waitress, Anne, came back with my order. She was truly reminiscent of Duo. Large bright eyes, dark hair and a never ceasing smile. I found myself missing the braided fool and the others. If I really did miss them, then why did I not put in the effort in staying in touch with them? I even avoided Geneva simply because I knew the Preventers headquarters was there. I guess I needed to find this elusive ... thing of mine before I could re-establish old ties.
Shaking melancholy thoughts out of my head I began looking for the Greenwich area on my map, trying to ascertain the best place for me to go. First of all, I needed to find a hotel. My latest stints in Amsterdam and Paris allowed me to save up a pretty penny to splurge in this metropolis. No more YMCA hostels and dingy bed and breakfasts. I was determined to pamper myself in a nice hotel for the next week.
After ten minutes of staring at the A to Z, I was beginning to see stars. They weren't kidding when they say "A to Z". But if I wanted to get anywhere, I would first need to know WHERE to go. This book, comprehensive as it is, is only helpful if I needed to find out HOW to get there.
Anne swung by my table again asking if everything was okay. I seized the opportunity to glean some information from her. She was more than willing to help, and flirt with, me.
I tried not to lead her on, but I was not prepared to tell her that I'd sooner get off with her brother, if he was just as cute as she, than her! Anne was very helpful, as well as giving me names and numbers of hotels and also told me about clubs, restaurants and pubs. I had a sneaking suspicion that they were the same ones that she frequented, or will be frequenting.
After another 'complimentary' espresso I finally made my way away from Anne's little cafe. She was sweet. Now, if only I could get half as many cute guys interested in me!
I chuckled to myself. Was I really in that much need of attention? No, I had plenty of attention, from the 'wrong' gender, no less, so it was not attention I needed. It was companionship.
I thought I'd had that with the other pilots, I thought I'd had that with Cathy. I guess I was wrong. What I had with the pilots were a common sense of purpose. Now that that purpose has been fulfilled, I didn't feel we had anything else. As for Cathy, she's my sister. She takes care of me, I take care of her, but I cannot share my life with her the way I would with a lover.
Is that what I was searching for? A lover?
It sounded trite. Cheap. No, I didn't want one. I could've had plenty in the last 9 months of travelling. Oriental, Occidental, tall, short, dark, fair, girl, boy - you name it, I've had it come on to me. Each and every time I politely refused. If they didn't take no for an answer, I ran. If they pursued, I hid.
No, I wasn't looking for a cheap date and a quick shag. I was looking for something more. I was looking for someone to come home to. Notwithstanding, I felt I needed to find myself before I could find someone to dedicate my life to. That probably was why I had been roaming the Earth Sphere without clear purpose, direction or result.
Before I knew it, I had successfully made my way to Mayfair. It was an area a little more snazzy that I expected to be staying in, but what is a few quid more? I had enough for a modest room in the Holiday Inn Mayfair - although 'modest' in their interpretation was nothing less than a king-sized bed with feather down pillows, a mini bar, facilities to make tea, coffee or hot chocolate, a small reception area for you to entertain guests, complimentary chocolates and biscuits, twelve different channels to watch and a full English breakfast every morning.
That, to me, was luxury, not just 'modest'. Luxury or no, I convinced myself that I deserved a little pampering and proceeded to indulge in the opulence that came with the room. I ate the pralines and the shortbread biscuits, drank the wine and used up all the bubble bath while listening to a cool mix of jazz over the airwaves.
I had been roughing it out in the past four cities, saving up just for something like this. This was worth every cold shower, draughty domicile and cardboard pizza that I had endured.
After indulging, I decided to hit Oxford Street. I could so with some new clothes and perhaps some fashion accessories! I didn't know if it was the wine in me that was making me feel frivolous and flighty or if it was the ebullient atmosphere of the city that had me intoxicated. Whatever the impetus, I was already enjoying my stay here.
Pulling my hair into a ponytail, I made a mental note to get it cut. It was getting ridiculous. It was long enough to just skim my shoulders. My fringe still had a mind of its own, which is now getting more uncontrollable due to its length. I was fortunate now that most of it was long enough to be pulled back into a ponytail. Whoa! I can see BOTH my eyes at the same time!
I had neglected cutting it for the past few months simply because I just couldn't be arsed. I was surprised that the fashion magazines and catwalks wanted me with my hair long. I had hopes that they would give me a hair cut by some chic stylist but evidently they liked the grungy, tousled look on me.
I inspected the little tail sticking out at the nape of my neck to see if I missed any strands. It was then I found myself thinking of Wufei. If my hair were darker, it would've looked exactly like his trademark ponytail. I smiled at the memory of him; of the time we had our first cup of coffee at the circus in silent contemplation of that day's battle. Something in me told me that we could've been good friends if we had bothered cultivating such a relationship. But in that time we were together, we were too busy trying to stay alive and keep true to our missions.
I picked up my jacket and went a hunting for the nearest Tube station. It was the best way to get around Central London.
Or so I was led to believe.
Oh bollocks....
I stood stupidly gaping at the large Tube map plastered to the station wall. I was lost. How could I possible get lost? I was a Gundam pilot, damnit! Gundam pilots DO NOT get lost in Underground circuits!
I blamed it on the wine.
I sighed and focused my thoughts. I made it around the Parisian Metro circuit; surely I can lick the London Tube circuit?
The green line connected to the red line, the red line connected to the blue line, the blue line connected to the black line, the black line... I slapped myself mentally for singing that oh-so-annoying tune. I would regret this knowing that would stick in my brain for the rest of the day.
Drawing back my attention to the map, I thanked my lucky stars I was not colour-blind.
An hour later, I was finally at the Oxford Circus Tube station - where I should've been in the first place an hour and a half ago. Hmmm, being lost seemed to be the theme of this chapter of my journey. Someday, I'll find my way, or maybe someone would find me instead and lead me onto the right path.
The streets were teeming with activity - people rushing from store to store with arms full of their latest purchase. I looked around - ahh... there was sale going on. I wondered if was I brave enough to tackle and challenge the locals in their hunt for the best bargains. Well, you only live once.
Four hours later I staggered out of Selfridges, bleary eyed and significantly poorer, arms laden with trinkets and gifts a plenty. I never thought that I, of all people, would go completely out of hand while shopping.
Definitely the wine or maybe it was all that espresso. Perhaps even the cumulative effects of both.
I searched the crowded street for a place to rest my weary feet. Further up along the way, I spotted a Starbucks. I almost didn't see it if it were not for a twenty-something girl almost throwing her takeaway cappuccino over me. She grunted inarticulately and hastily rushed off. Hmm, hasn't that grunt been patented by Heero? I smiled at the memory of him and all the times when Duo attempted to engage him in a civilised conversation.
Deciding that I had had enough coffee for the day, I went for a peppermint tea instead. I also ordered a plain old toasted ham and cheese sandwich to go with it. I found a seat tucked away in a far corner of the first floor overlooking the street. I had a good view of the hubbub below me - people bustling from shop to shop, cars rushing to get past the many traffic lights that littered the street. There must have been about twenty lights for the one-mile stretch of road. Why would anyone need that many lights?
I watched them. Watch them go about their daily routine, watch them experience the peace that we fought on behalf of them without truly appreciating it. Did they know or understand how many sacrifices soldiers made for these shoppers to even be able walk this street without fear? Maybe not... most likely not. I don't know if I should envy them for they would never have to see the awful truth of attaining peace or pity them for they would never understand and appreciate the true beauty of it.
Damn! Was I getting cynical in my old age or had I always been like this?
I scoffed at my own pessimism and diverted my attention back to my sandwich. After wolfing it down I pulled out a stack of novelty postcards I bought from various stalls and searched for my pen. This time I bought enough postcards for everyone I know - even Dorothy Catalonia. Hmm... must be something in the air.
I took my time in writing the postcards, some more detailed than others. No matter how I tried, I just couldn't get past 'Hi, how have you been doing?' when writing to people like Lady Une, Zechs, Relena and Dorothy. We barely exchanged ten words since we met. Then again, I don't think Relena and I have ever had a conversation. I was surprised that I even considered getting them postcards.
I managed to squeeze a little more words out for Heero and Wufei - that was quite a feat in itself; especially considering the only things we ever talked about were our missions and Gundams. Cathy and Duo had the most comprehensive account of my adventures since arriving in London. I was actually running out of space on the little card! Hilde, Sally and Noin had the abridge version.
As for Quatre's - his was still blank save his name.
I didn't know why I had a sudden dose of writer's block when it came to Quatre. Didn't know or didn't WANT to know?
I must be going crazy.
My eyes wandered back to the busy street below, my mind deliberately searching for a quick change of subject.
Suddenly out of the blue, I heard a noise that made my heart stopped for a second. It was melodious, cheerful and angelic. It was a laugh that I knew well. A laugh which I committed to memory the first time I heard it for fear of never hearing it again. I looked around the café, frantically searching for the source of that laugh.
It couldn't be him, could it?
The source of the laughter was rapid descending the stairs. I bolted out of my chair, nearly upsetting my table and rushed to top of the stairwell. Two retreating figures in merry conversation were on it. I stared at their backs and felt my disappointment rise. I was expecting one of them to be male and have blond locks. Well, one of them had a similar hair colour but was clearly female and her male companion had brown hair.
I chuckled and chided myself for being foolish. Why would he be in a poxy Starbucks in Oxford Street? He didn't even like coffee. In addition to that, I was certain that he would be too busy running his family business to be here.
I returned to my table and swept all the postcards into my John Lewis shopping bag. It was time to go. Shopping was fun, but going to a hip London club would be even better. First stop was the hotel to dump all my shopping, get dressed in the new gear I had purchased today, pretty myself up then park my skinny ass in a club and dance the night away.
~*~
Hippodrome.
That was what the flashing, gaudy pink fluorescent tube said. It wasn't exactly the swankiest in town but it was the biggest and brightest in Leicester Square. The queue extended around the block and it was only eight. I groan inwardly. I hated queues. At times like these, I rue the day I chose to remain anonymous. Then again, I would rather have to line up to get into clubs than have my face plastered all over the tabloids like Relena's was.
I shrugged and headed to the back of the queue. Tonight, I was just one of the masses so when in Rome...
"Hey gorgeous," a voice leered at me.
I was loathed to respond to it but it was kind of hard to ignore the pair of tits poking my ribs.
"Excuse me," I mumbled and tried to step around her.
"Are you shy or playing hard to get?" she would not let her prey go.
"Neither, I'm gay," I said nonchalantly and she giggled. For the first time since her bosom buddies came into view, I dared to look at her. She was quite pretty, if she didn't have an inch of make up on her. She was tall and thin with long red hair. Dressed in a gold bustier, a lacy jacket, mini leather skirt and boots, I felt she was exposing way too much flesh. She looked sixteen and had the aura of a pampered rich kid. Not my type - especially since she was the wrong sex.
"Gay? Then I don't have to worry about you taking advantage of me."
Some people just can't take the hint. Without warning, she latched onto my arm and whispered into my ear, "C'mon, I know a quicker way in."
I was tempted to ask 'in where?' but I held my tongue knowing that she would very likely misinterpret my sarcasm for a chat-up line.
"Miss, thanks but no thanks."
"Relax," she cooed and begun tugging me, "A big strong boy like you don't have to worry about little old me."
"Please, let go," I resisted.
I almost won too if she hadn't had reinforcements. A few more similarly dressed floozies appeared and I was cornered. Never in my time as a mercenary or Gundam pilot had I felt this outnumbered and helpless. This was one fight I knew I couldn't win by force. I prayed to whatever deity who was listening to make this as painless as possible.
Twittering. They were twittering! Not talking, twittering. I cringed as they dragged me along to wherever they going, wondering, one, why I wasn't putting up more of a fight, and two if twittering teenage girls like them were one of the reasons why I'm gay.
To my surprise, I wasn't dragged to some dodgy alleyway and force to scramble through the girls' toilet window to gain access to the club. I was taken to the VIP entrance of the club! Shame on me for being so judgemental.
"Miss Veronica, are they all with you?" a big burly bouncer asked the first girl who accosted me.
"Yes, they are," Veronica replied.
"Have a good time," the bouncer said and let us through. Envious eyes followed us as we sashayed into the club. Well the girls sashayed; I kind of got hauled along. Geez, why don't you put a leash on me? Oh, scrap that, she looked like the kind who WOULD too! If I was going to let anyone put a leash on me, it certainly wasn't going to be her. Not even if all of mankind depended it.
"Buy me a drink?" Veronica batted her eyelids at me. If that was an attempt at flirting, I've seen dead tortoises do better.
I nodded; it was the least I could do for her for getting me in the club so quickly, "What would you like?"
"Smirnoff Ice."
Being the gentleman I was, I offered to buy Veronica's flunkies drinks as well.
Arms laden with four Smirnoff Ice and a Bud I made my way back to the girls, wracking my brains on how to get away from them. Somehow I knew if I just disappeared, they would turn the place inside out to find me.
As soon as I distributed the drinks, Veronica latched herself on me again. Oh, why me? I would bide my time and look for a window of opportunity to be rid of her. I have spent days waiting to ambush Oz, I can wait an hour or so.
How the girls managed to have a conversation with music as loud as a sonic boom was beyond me. Yet there they stood before me, screaming at each other, commenting about the 'talent' that night and rating them. They even had the audacity to 'whisper' about me believing that if they spoke directly into each other's ears, I wouldn't hear. I wondered how embarrass they would be if they knew I could read lips.
God save me!
Some benevolent deity must've have heard me. For not too far away I spotted someone besides the girls checking me out. For the first time that night, that someone was of the right sex and rather cute too. Perhaps now Veronica would actually believe that I WAS gay.
Just as his eyes scrutinised me from head to toe, I gave him a similar once over. He was tall and of medium stature. Under those paint-on suede trousers I could see well-defined muscles. He wore a loose grey shirt, top button undone allowing observers a tantalizing glimpse of pale collarbone. His hair was dark, I couldn't tell the exact colour because of the various flashing coloured lights, and cut very closely only on the back and sides. Wispy locks tumbled into soft yet penetrating dark eyes. He had a sweeping jaw line and high cheekbones. Alluring, pouty lips widened into a seductive smile when he realised I was checking him out as he was checking me out.
An inquisitive eyebrow rose as our gaze locked. If I was as good as reading body language as I was reading lips then the silent question was - if you're gay, why do you have a bird hanging off your arm?
I shrugged helplessly, rolled my eyes, hoped that he understood my message of 'because she's thick and couldn't take the hint. Come save me.'
He regarded me for a moment, looked at her then laughed. I made puppy eyes at him and I could almost see him become putty in my hands. He took one last swig of his beer, set the bottle down and made a beeline for me.
"Hey," he said into my ear and my legs almost gave way. That voice, almost familiar, was like melted chocolate - warm, sweet, almost forbidden and thoroughly satisfying. All that from one word? I must be feeling horny.
"Hi," I replied oh-so-intelligently. At this point, Veronica and her friends had noticed the newcomer invading their territory. If looks could kill. Pity neither the newcomer nor I could care less.
"Wanna dance?"
"Thought you'd never ask," I extricated myself from Veronica's clutches and followed the cute brunette to the dance floor. I could almost hear Veronica and her friends gasp, outraged that I was not making goo-goo eyes at the queen bee of the hive instead I was going to dance with another guy.
I turned to her briefly and gave her an 'I told you I was gay' smile. It could be so much fun screwing with their minds.
Watching him go before me, a nagging feeling that I had met him before rose. I almost asked but decided not too. Too cliché.
He virtually skipped to the middle of the dance floor and wasted no time in dancing to the beat. And MAN, could the boy dance. I was sorely tempted to merely sit and watch him move, similarly I wanted to feel that taut body pressed against me as we rumba around the parquet.
Three quick strides closed the gap between us. I swept him into my arms and whirled him around. We moved to the rhythm of the music, never missing a beat, we were poetry in motion. He was light on his feet and very graceful. Compared to him, I felt like I had two left feet - and that was saying something, considering I was a gymnast. I was completely mesmerised by him. He was intoxicating and all we have shared was just a dance or maybe two or three. I had lost count.
Then I heard him laugh.
And my heart stopped.
I spun him around, held him close and peered closely into his brown eyes, searching for some recognition. I was certain I would've grasped it if it weren't for the electrifying kiss he planted on my lips to distract me. That was cheating.
I could've sworn the lights went out. Or maybe it was just the strobes. In any case, when the lights came back on, I was alone in the middle of the dance floor feeling rather like a noddy.
What the heck happened?
We were dancing, we were having a good time, we were on the verge of committing public naughtiness on the dance floor, I stopped to look at him and he bolted?
Eh?
I made my way off the dance floor and headed to the bar. I needed a drink.
Men are so confusing...
Not to mention infuriating.
Feeling deflated after being left high and dry, I downed the rest of my drink and decided to head back to my hotel. I stomped grumpily out of the Hippodrome, nearly mowing down Veronica as she attempted to waylay me again.
"Good lord, woman!" I exclaimed; my tact and manners went flying out the window, "What does it take to convince you that I am gay? Gay, queer, homosexual, batting for the same team, G-A-Y!"
The sheer look of horror on her face was almost enough to lift my dour mood; almost. She stuck her nose up high, spun around and marched off haughtily. I believed that no one had the audacity to spurn her. Well, we all learn something new everyday.
~*~
I shuffled into my hotel room, feeling sorry for myself. What a way to crash and burn on my first night in this metropolis! I stripped myself of my smoke and beer smelling clothes and ran another bath. I needed some comforting. I was glad to find my supply of wine and chocolate had been replenished. I turned on the radio and sank gratefully into the steaming water.
Not long after being in the bath, I heard a faint sound that sounded suspiciously like the click of a lock. I listened intently for further sounds of movement. I heard nothing. Geez, not only am I becoming cynical in my old age, I was getting paranoid too. Long after I drained the wine, finished the chocolates and shrivelled up like a prune was I content to get out of the bath. I didn't feel better, only drunker. Ah well, you can't have it all.
I wrapped the white, fluffly towel around my waist and padded out to the bedroom. I toyed with the idea of ordering a cheesy movie or going to bed - the night was still kind of young.
I flicked the lights on in the bedroom and almost had my third coronary of the day.
There sat upon my bed was the very brunette that jilted me on the dance floor.
I stood gaping stupidly at him. What? How? Who?
He smiled cheekily at me, his eyes twinkling. His eyes - they were no longer brown but bright blue instead. A pox upon the inventor of coloured contact lenses. His eyes, the very same pair that entranced me for so very long and made me finally accept that I liked boys and not girls.
The eyes were the same but the hair was not.
"You'd better shut that mouth of your before something unpleasant flies into it," he purred.
I snapped my jaw shut and my brows furrowed in confusion.
"How much have you had to drink?" he spoke again - oh that caramel voice sprinkled with a generous amount seduction was doing funny, but welcomed, things to me.
"What?"
"Your eyes are glazed over. I know you can take your alcohol well, so you must have been drinking quite a lot to get that adorable, glazed look."
"How did you get in?"
"Oh, nice to see you too, Trowa," he pouted, "Is this how you greet friends you haven't seen in eighteen months or do I get the special treatment?"
Ok, any moment now my brain was going to explode. I should really keep off the wine.
The hair may be different but it was definitely him. He was more flirtatious, bolder and no longer just beautiful. He was drop dead gorgeous and I was certain that blood had stopped reaching my brain mainly because it was pooling in my groin. How could a mere mortal do that to another person?
No, he was no mortal.
Quatre was divine.
"Oh, you definitely get the special treatment," I heard myself say. Hmmm, I must have somehow regained my composure - somehow.
"That's nice to know," he shifted to lie on his front, propping his chin up on his palms, "So what brings you to London?"
Damn! He's sexy in an innocent kind of way, if that made sense at all, "Funny, I was about to ask the same of you."
"I live here now."
"You do?" I was surprised.
"Uh, huh, I've been here about six months."
"How come?"
"I've started my undergraduate degree at Imperial College," oh, that smile of his, like a seraphim - angelic yet deadly, "Besides, I like the place, I like the people and I think the English can be so romantic. I particularly like the tea too. The English have a real appreciation of this exotic beverage."
"The tea," I chortled, "Trust you to move to a whole different country just for tea."
"Well, we all have our poisons," he rolled on to his back and hung his head off the edge, "You didn't say why you were here."
"I thought the hotel would be a dead giveaway," I began rummaging through my shopping bags for the new underwear I bought earlier, "I'm on holiday."
"Holiday?" his eyebrows rose, although from my point of view they dropped, "Trowa Barton taking a holiday? What next? Heero winning an elocution contest?"
"Don't get cheeky, Winner," I wagged my finger at him, "You may have grown but I'm still bigger and stronger than you. And I remember all your ticklish spots."
"Is that a threat or a promise?" he drawled making me shiver. I hoped he didn't see that. The last thing I wanted to do was let him know that he had me firmly wrapped around his little finger. If Quatre had asked me to streak across the Ritz in my birthday suit, I probably would have.
I knew I was going to lose this game if I didn't do something quick. A wicked thought ran through my head, perhaps this would catch him off guard, even if it was only for a moment.
Just as I pulled a pair of boxers from the bag, I dropped my towel and mooned him for a second before stepping into them. A satisfied smile spread across my face when I heard him gasp and choke. The gaze that raked across my pert bottom was almost palpable.
"So, what's with the new hair do?" I asked, deliberately casual.
"I was experimenting, plus platinum blond stands out too much."
"You sound like a wanted man."
"One can only hope."
Okay, a man can only bear so much innuendo in one night. When in the world did Quatre turn into such a flirt? He was playing with fire and this blaze was roaring.
Before he knew it, I had him pinned down on the bed, practically drooling on him. My lithe body firmly pressed against his. I purred at him and felt him shiver, "I hope you weren't just teasing, pussy cat, because you've just let the tiger loose and he will get his prey tonight."
Quatre smirked seductively and looked at me through his lashes, "I have been waiting for you to find me and say that for the last two years."
"You have?" I blinked stupidly.
"Sometimes you can be so thick, Trowa Barton," he tittered, "But I am a patient man and some things are well worth the wait."
"Then I'd better not disappoint."
"You could never be a disappointment to me."
~*~
I certainly enjoyed that week in London, and a week ended up being a month, then a year and it has been four now. The best four years of my life.
I started out on my Earthen sojourn looking for a new purpose in life believing that if I found it everything would fall neatly into place. Little did I know that the thing I was searching for was not a new beginning, but the next step of a journey that began in AC 195.
Although I didn't believe in fate or destiny, I sometimes wondered if they had a hand in putting Quatre and I in the right place at the right time. Nevertheless, I was taught to never look a gift horse in the mouth. If the powers that be saw fit to bring us together, then so be it.
I looked out into Hyde Park from our Kensington apartment. We have woken up to this glorious sight for years and each and every day made me more appreciative of peace we both fought to attain. The pain we endured and sacrifices we made were worth it if we had people we loved to share it with.
As I gazed dreamily into the leafy foliage, I felt familiar arms encircle me.
"You ready to go?" my angel asked. We were moving back to the space colony of L4. Quatre had finished his Batchelor and Masters degrees and it was time to go home. Home, to me, was where Quatre was.
"Yeah," I nodded, "Hey, you remember the day we met here?"
"How could I forget?"
"I mean earlier that day. Do you remember where you were?"
"Yeah, shopping on Oxford Street with my friend Jenny, I needed a new pair of trousers for clubbing. Why?"
"You didn't happen to stop by Starbucks did you? The one by the Sock Shop? At about four?"
"As a matter of fact we did. Don't tell me you were there too?"
"I was. I heard you laugh but when I went to look for you I saw someone who was clearly female and the other one with brown hair. I thought I was imagining things and that there was no way it could've been you," I chuckled.
"I thought I was imagining things too when I saw you at the Hippodrome. Lucky I didn't brush the sight of you off as wishful thinking, eh?"
"Lucky you didn't," I felt him kiss the nape of my neck, "I'm going to miss this place."
"So am I," he sighed, "London really is magical, huh?"
I turned to face him and kissed him, "Yeah, they have angels here."
~Fin~