Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The week of Quatre's no-confidence vote at WEI, three notable things-- other than being voted out of his own company-- happened.

Rashid finally did as he'd been threatening to do for years, and went back to Earth. He was whistling as he boarded the shuttle. Quatre tried not to take it personally.

His niece also departed, leaving three weeks early for her graduate programme, and he tried not to take that personally, either. He wouldn't have looked forward to a month alone with a mopey, unemployed uncle. She left behind a suspiciously large pile of self-help books, with optimistic-sounding titles like The Six Pillars Of Self-Esteem and Staying Centred As Your World Turns Over. Quatre flushed one down the toilet and thought they might actually be helpful after all.

And all of his friends showed up, carting cases of liquor and a box of what he thought might be dirty magazines and something that looked awfully-- so very awfully-- like a karaoke machine. Quatre protested; he was sure he protested, between opening the door and pointing out the kitchen and finding an extension cable for the karaoke machine. And getting spare linens for the guest rooms and ringing Cook to put off luncheon and then realising that Cook was pretty much the only person who needed to know, anymore, what he was doing in the next few hours. And then he sat on the back stairs and put his hands in his hair and thought very hard about pulling it all out by the roots.

Maybe time to flush another book.

Trowa found him there, and eased down on the steps beside him. 'Sorry,' he opened.

'You're here to support me,' Quatre said, aiming for upbeat, and landing on toneless. He tried again, adding, 'Thank you,' and achieved something that only sounded mildly despairing.

'It was Duo's idea.' Trowa carefully folded his hands between his knees, his head bowed over them so that Quatre couldn't see his face. 'He said what you would need is a distraction.'

'I'm sure he's right.' He drew a deep breath. 'This isn't going to turn into one of those drunken lawn parties like Relena's last birthday?'

'Definitely not. I swear.'

**

For all his worry the first night was rather tame. There was an impromptu tour of the house; there was so much house that even Quatre rarely visited most of it, and most of it these days was gathering dust.

'Sell it,' Heero said.

'You can't sell it!' Duo disagreed, appalled at him. 'A place like this isn't real estate. It's history. Quatre's history. Isn't it, Quatre? I bet all kinds of crazy shit went on in here.'

'I did have an auntie who went off,' Quatre said, a little mystified. 'She lived in the Rose Suite for thirteen years and threw herself off the balcony. Only she didn't die from the fall, but finally had to go into hospital, with both her legs broken.'

'See?' Trowa said. 'History.'

'I thought you had servants.' Heero stopped just short of tripping on an old rug, staring down at it with a curious expression of reserve. Quatre stepped to him to smooth it flat with his shoe. Heero held his elbow for balance.

'There were people here when I visited.' Duo touched everything, curiosity to his fingertips. 'There was a butler and a bunch of maids and the footman and the wine guy and the porter and that guy who did my room and tried to steal my clothes.'

'For cleaning.' Quatre bent to collect a dust cloth when Duo threw it to the ground, the better to examine a marble bust of some long-dead Winner relative. It was a proud face, a stern face. His father's face. Quatre gazed up at it, twining the cotton sheeting over his knuckles. He took after his mother. If there were a bust of him to be done, ever, no-one would know where to fit him.

'Most of them moved on with the girls when they left,' he said eventually, 'now they've all moved out to their own places...' He turned, and found only Heero there waiting for him. Duo had already gone on to the next room, and Quatre could hear him exclaiming over the crystal chandelier.

'You live here alone now?' Heero asked solemnly.

'I suppose.' He gave the sheet a toss over the bust, and the square Winner jaw disappeared from view. 'Margaux left just three days ago. My niece by my sister Sabine.'

'Those are Sanqian names.'

'Yes.' He thought of Heero in that pale periwinkle suit in New Port City, the fall of chantilly lace at his throat that had strangled rather than softened. Those were sad days, and his memories of that time were all confused and unrelated to each other, snapshots of sleepless nights and a crawling sense of self-loathing. Not unfamiliar. He drew a deep breath. 'Relena and I are distant cousins, actually,' he said. 'Through our mothers. Her real mother. Third and twice removed.'

'I didn't know that.'

'Yes.'

He moved first, just as Heero inhaled. Heero was only half a step behind him, turning to follow Duo's voice through the formal dining room and to the conservatory beyond it. There was a little wake of change in Duo's path, the place settings on the table just a little disturbed. Quatre righted them absently, and thought it might be time to put it all away, with no-one left to eat off it. Maybe just settings enough for his friends, if they wanted it. He twitched a crystal wineglass into place, righted a candle that tilted off its base. Heero watched him. The table runner had shifted just off centre, and he righted that, too. And then there was a long blank space, no thoughts at all, no feelings, just looking down at the gold thread of the runner. He put his palm on it, spread his fingers wide. He moved it back off-kilter. Just a bit.

Heero said, 'We all brought you gifts.'

'Gifts?' He raised his head, put his hands in his pockets. 'Why?'

'Because of your company.' Heero's shoulder rose, an inch, fell back. 'Because of invading your home. Duo said you liked music. I brought you music.'

'I do like music, thank you.'

'Hey.'

Trowa. Quatre turned to him, and Heero stepped in to his back. Close enough that he felt Heero's body warmth. It raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

Trowa's mouth seemed tight. He said, 'Duo found the pool. He said we should get the liquor and start there.'

'It's not really a pool,' Quatre answered automatically. 'It's a fountain. Although the spigots are all off. I think Rashid said something about it before he left.'

'Whichever. Is it okay?'

'Is what okay?'

'The liquor,' Trowa repeated, with no edge at all. 'If we drink there.'

'Oh. Yes, of course.' He curled his hands into fists in his pockets. He could feel Heero at his back, and took strength from that. 'I'll go get the boxes.'

'We'll do it. Go hang out with Duo.'

'Take off your tie at least,' Duo greeted him, when he finally entered the conservatory. 'It's nice and warm in here. Are the colony's weather programmes broke?'

'It's always cold here. I think it's meant to discourage lay-abouts.' It was much warmer in the greenhouse, though. Tropical plants splayed wide green leaves far overhead, and a wall of orchids housed in tiny bulb-shaped glasses provided multi-coloured lights, oranges and blues and reds that dappled the surface of the-- yes, pool-sized fountain. Duo was already in it, his jeans rolled above his knees, his shirt wet to the elbows. Quatre got himself splashed when he ventured to the travertine ledge. 'Having fun?' he asked.

'We will.' Duo splashed him again, then threw his arms out rigidly. Quatre took a quick step toward him, but not in time to stop it. Duo fell straight back with a glorious eruption of water. Quatre laughed involuntarily, and pressed his hand to his mouth.

Duo surfaced with a gasp. 'Holy shit!' he crowed. 'Quatre, get in here. Now.'

'Are you mad?' He self-consciously lowered his voice. 'The others will be back in a minute. Get out.'

'Nuh-uh. You get in.' Duo swam toward him, approaching the edge with the gleaming eyes of a shark. 'You get in or I'm gonna make you.'

'You'll no such thing.'

'Don't make me chase you.' Duo splashed at him again. 'I will. I'll chase you through the whole house like this.'

'You wouldn't dare!'

With a great wave Duo flung himself up. Quatre dropped every last shred of dignity with a shriek, and took off running. Duo chased him with giant watery strides, then leapt the fountain ledge and came after him on foot. Quatre ducked under an elephant ear and behind a spindly-trunked fishtail palm, dusting his hair with a spray of grape-like fruits. Silence. He held his breath, listening for any telling drips coming near. 'Duo?' he whispered tentatively. 'Did you go?'

Fingers closed on his wrist. He yelped and remembered too late to twist away-- no avail. A wiry arm wrapped around his legs and then he was airborne, and then he was flung over a shoulder and carted briskly. 'Duo! Duo, put me down-- Duo, where's your braid?'

'On the same drooling idiot it's always been on.' Trowa hopped to the fountain's edge lightly enough for a man carrying an extra hundred and fifty pounds. 'Surrender or be damned.'

'Trowa, don't, I swear I'll--'

'That doesn't sound like surrender,' Trowa said, and heaved both of them in.

**

He woke well before his alarm. It was an old habit, a nervous habit of an active mind that always sought more worries than it already had. The alarm was a habit, too, and one he'd have to shake, now. There was no need to rise at four, no office to occupy at six.

He lay in bed staring at the ceiling until the alarm went off, and for a long minute after. Then he rolled to his feet, popped his aching joints, and went to shower.

Heero was sitting on the breakfast balcony. There was a pot of tea and a plate of croissants in front of him, which suggested Cook had already been in. Maybe he ought to move Cook onto the estate. He certainly had room now, and she was getting on in years. Or maybe he ought to let well enough alone. She had a family. She had a life.

'Here,' Heero murmured, and poured him a cup. 'Did you sleep?'

'A little, I think.' He dripped milk into the tea and pulled it near. 'You? Were you comfortable? I really should have aired out the rooms.'

'It was fine, Quatre.' Heero sipped his own tea. 'This place is too big for just you.'

'It is. I know.' He cradled the cup to his chest for warmth. Duo was right. It was cold on L4. 'I haven't-- had time to think about it.'

'Sorry.' Heero looked away. 'And I'm sorry about all of this. Us coming here.'

'No. I did enjoy myself last night.' He drank his tea, and set it down. 'If it were just me alone here I'd go mad. Lock myself in the Rose Suite.'

'You're not the kind of person who can party until he forgets his problems.'

'No, but it won't hurt me to try for a little while.'

'Quatre.' Heero faced him fully. 'If you want to talk--'

'Morning.' It was Trowa, standing at the doorway. He was wearing boxers and a long-sleeve jumper, and he was shivering. Quatre jumped to his feet and ducked back into hall. He pulled an armful of old wools from their hangers, and brought them out. Trowa gave him a small sleepy smile when Quatre covered his legs. Heero didn't meet his eyes, but accepted a coat silently.

'Tea?' Quatre asked.

'You don't have to hostess me.' Trowa poured for himself. 'Duo will be out soon. I think that's what he mumbled at me.'

'You all don't have to be up so early. You should sleep in.'

'There'll be time for that.' Trowa sipped gingerly, and reached for the sugar. 'Just to warn you. The drinking is definitely going to happen today. You might want to hydrate.'

He took that as fair warning, though. He poured a second cup of tea, and reached for a croissant as well. 'Should I put in a warning to the police to ignore any screams?'

'We'll keep it in house.' Trowa stole his croissant and tore it in half, returning one piece to him coyly. 'I meant to ask you last night. You said Rashid left?'

'Yes.' Quatre turned his eyes down to the biscuit as he shredded it slowly. 'The day after... after my last day at WEI. He said it was time and I was welcome to visit Earth at my convenience.'

'Harsh,' Trowa commented. 'I thought you two were close.'

'So did I.' Quatre sucked flakes from his finger and wiped his hand on the wool coat in his lap. 'I mean we are. I'm sure he had his reasons. At any rate, I suppose I do have time for a visit now.'

'Hey.' Duo had found them after all, and he was carrying a large stone vessel topped with a carved falcon head. 'Quatre, what's this?'

'Ah-- it's a canopic jar.' Quatre poured a new cup, and pushed it across the table as Duo sat, cradling the jar in his lap.

'Canopic means what, now?'

'They held viscera of ancient Egyptians.'

'Cool.' Duo turned it this way and that in the light, reaching for his tea with only half an eye on it. 'Viscera means what, now?'

'Body parts,' Trowa informed him. 'And I think the falcon means it was intestines.'

'Oh, very very cool.' Duo gave it an appreciative pat, and set it on the table. 'So. Here's my thinking. I talked to your kitchen lady last night and she said she was going to bring stuff for sandwiches and snacks and that kind of thing, and then she'll just take off and leave us to ourselves, so I'm thinking the first thing we do is throw on a big batch of bloody marys and start with the prank calls.' He mimed a phone at his ear. 'Hello? It's your stalker from high school. I'm still following you.'

Trowa had split another croissant, and Quatre took the half that was offered to him. 'To whom are we making prank calls?'

'Your company, duh. Trowa downloaded a list of all the assholes on the board and we can just go right down the list, man.'

'It sounds a little lame,' Quatre said apologetically. 'And they all have secretaries, anyway. It's not much of a prank if you have to tell them who you are to get the secretary to forward your call. And if it's me phoning, they'll probably just send me to voicemail, anyway.'

'The prank calls are just a warm up, okay. We'll do it until we get a good one and then we'll move on. Next we make a fire in that big marble chimney thing and we burn a bunch of symbolic stuff. I'm thinking like one of your suits, but not all of them because that's expensive, and a bunch of office papers, and maybe one of those weird see-through glass awards that you have five million of.'

'Glass won't burn,' Heero said shortly.

'I bet it gets a little melty and breaks, though, and that's satisfying. Then we get drunk. But not, like, shit-faced, we have to save that for later. Escalation is important here. So mostly drunk, and then we all sit in a circle and say really nice things about you, build your ego back up. We bond. We get your head back on straight. Then we exercise your newfound freedom by doing a lot of stupid, dangerous crap around your house. I brought a bunch of violent video games and Heero can figure out which one of your staircases can double as a water slide. Then we sit in a circle again and you vent all the crap you had to take working at that place, really let it out. Then we go outside when it's really late at night and we yell “FUCK YOU WINNER ENTERPRISES!” until your neighbours complain. And that's when we go back in and drink until we puke. And if at any point you want to substitute one of these activities for watching porn or going to a bar to seduce a hot bartender, that is totally your decision.' Duo gave his knee a sympathetic squeeze. 'This week is all about you, friend.'

'Week?' Quatre repeated. 'Oh, Duo.'

Trowa clapped him on the shoulder. 'Ask him where he got this fantastic plan.'

'Hilde swears it works when her friends break up with their boyfriends. I did take out the step where you sleep with their best friend to get back at them. I figured, you know, all those dudes on the board are old.'

'If we're doing this, I'm showering first.' Trowa rose. He rubbed his hand over Quatre's hair, mussing it. 'Ready to emotionally expose yourself?'

**

Quatre puked into his fountain, and slumped down the cold stone rim. 'God,' he croaked.

Heero wet his hand in the water-- several feet away from the section Quatre had just decorated-- and brought it down on Quatre's neck. 'You really shouldn't let Duo goad you,' he said.

'No, he was right. I do feel better.' Quatre heaved again, and coughed pitiably into his elbow. 'I did, anyway.'

Heero sat on the ledge, facing out over the gravel path of the conservatory. 'This isn't you.'

'I don't think me was doing all that well, all things considered.' The gravel was hurting his knees. He tried to shift around without disturbing the tentative balance of the competing swirlies between his ears, and landed with his head on Heero's thigh. Heero caught him and stilled him. 'I've been sacked,' Quatre said thickly. 'No-one ever sacked my father.'

'They probably wanted to, at some point.'

'No, no-one ever-- ever.' Kind of Heero to hold him up. His arms just weren't up to the task. He did manage to twist around onto his rump, but Heero's thigh made a soft pillow, and his head was far too heavy to lift. Heero massaged his neck for him, kind Heero. 'I wanted to be good at it,' Quatre said. Heero's blue jeans were soft. He closed his eyes. 'Truly. It's just that it-- all seemed so-- petty.'

'It was,' Heero said softly. 'You've done great things. Bigger things than making a profit. It's fine for other people, but not for you. This whole place is like that. A monument to wasted effort.'

'That's what Rashid said about turning off the fountain.' That was funny. He laughed, except that it made his head spin. He clapped a hand over his eyes. 'He said it took much longer than he'd thought it would. Why would he say that?'

'Because he's proud of you and he wants you to do something worthy.' Heero rubbed at the tense muscles of Quatre's back. 'Do you know what you want to do now? You must have ideas. All along.'

Mars. He wanted to do something with the terraforming. Or go to university. Or found a university, that would be a fit use for the money, a place where people could go without having to pay extortionate fees, where education wouldn't be just for the wealthy, where they could teach the truth about the war, the peace, all the things that had led them to now. Co-sponsor Relena's Home for the Hungry Drive, he didn't need WEI to do that, and in fact without WEI he could do considerably more, could help her run it even--

Heero wet his hand again and applied it to Quatre's hot cheek. He was very gentle, for someone with such callused hands, the pads of his fingers on Quatre's skin.

Quatre clumsily wiped his nose, and Heero smiled, a tiny movement of his mouth that warmed his eyes. 'Do you feel any better now?'

'I think I got quite a lot of it out, anyway.' He did feel a little steadier. Duo was a wicked, wicked creature, and if that last mix had really had juice in it Quatre would eat his expensive suits. The last three drinks were a blur, really, but he supposed that was something of the point. He dropped his hand to Heero's shoe, to play with a loose lace. Heero double-knotted his laces. He said, 'Why did you leave there? Sanq?'

'I didn't leave,' Heero said. 'Relena asked me to go.'

'What? Why? I thought--' He wasn't quite certain what he thought. 'Do you want me to hate her? For making you leave?'

From the swimmy corner of his vision he saw Heero grin. It was fleeting, but it made him smile, too. He hid it in Heero's knee.

'You like her too much to hate her,' Heero answered. 'I like her still too.'

'You love her.'

'Yes,' Heero agreed. 'More than I knew I could love anyone.'

'Then why--' He sat up, and hesitated until he was sure he could stay that, and then made a ginger adventure of getting back up to the fountain's ledge, with Heero cautiously helping. 'I mean if you're in love, it's so cruel,' he said. 'If you're in love you should be together.'

'I don't know. I think...' Heero exhaled slowly through his nose. 'I think sometimes people feel too much about each other. Or have gone through too much together, and it's centred on each other, and when you're together you can't think about anything else. It's not that I stopped loving her. But it was too hard. Being around her was too hard. There was too much-- obligation. For both of us.'

He took Heero's hand. He never would have tried, never would have conceived doing it if he hadn't been three sheets to the wind, but Heero let him, and that was the moment when he realised there was something charged, something more than just two friends in sympathy. Heero's fingers curled around his. Heero was looking at him, calm but focussed. Heero was being more than kind. In fact Heero was reaching for him, touching the wet hair by his temple, brushing it back over his ear. And Quatre's stomach was making uneasy somersaults, but it wasn't out of protest.

'I'll walk you to your room,' Heero said then. 'Duo's a lot less energetic when he's hung over.'

'I think we'll all be.' He managed a breath, and another one after that, and put the odd tingle in his gut firmly out of mind. 'Um, you'll be all right? In your bedroom. Where you'll be.'

Heero rose. Quatre did, as well; or tried, at any rate, but Heero caught him and put an arm around his middle. 'Come on,' Heero said, and walked him up the gravel path.