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lukon_ideinWell, after all the bruhaha on LJ who's in the mood to write fic? Hmmmm... I see very few hands out there. I will admit I haven't been in the mood either, BUT - a) the best way for me to support fandom is by continuing to write, and b) it's ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lil_1337's birthday, and she really deserves fic for her birthday!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BABE!!
I find it appropriate that the prompt for the week was 'low' and that's exactly how I've felt since this whole thing happened. But as they say - when life throws you lemons, make lemonade... of course I'm more partial to the positively brilliant Sanzo line from the Saiyuki fic Beyond All Limits: Running Hot and Cold by itainohime: "It was a truism: that whenever life handed him lemons, he was always careful to cut the lemons into neat slices, and squeeze the juice into someone else's eyes."
So, anyway, here is my somewhat rambling and inconsequential offering for the day.
Title: Bending Over Backwards
Author: Lukoni
Characters: Quatre+Duo (friendship), Quatre/Trowa
Word Count: ca 2900
Summary: While vacationing on a tropical island Quatre gets to watch two master showmen at work.
Rating: PG
Warnings: Humor, minors involved with illegal (but nonsexual) activities, adult sexual situations, gratuitous Trowa ogling.
Notes: In the wake of the fandom paedophilia witch hunt I decided to write a story with no artistic merit involving children performing illicit activities that yet manage to have nothing to do with sex. Fuck you, WFI. Right. Anyway.... Written for GW500 challenge #184: Low. Feedback/Criticism/Typo notifications welcome. Thanks for reading!
Bending Over Backwards
“Duo! There you are!” called Quatre as he shouldered his way through the lively crowd and took the extra seat at his friend’s table.
“Heya Q-Bean. You been lookin’ for me?” asked Duo, barely flicking his eyes away from the action. The action consisted of, from what Quatre could discern, a clearly intoxicated young man in a funny hat leaning backwards and calling out to some ancient deity that had most likely had been completely made up for the benefit of the tourist trade.
“Actually, I’ve been looking for my wayward not-so-better half. Rumor has it he was last seen in your company.”
A shout from the crowd forestalled any response Duo might have made. The guy in the strange hat was now sitting on his ass between two brightly burning tiki torches decorated in faux tribal designs. He crawled to his feet and pumped his arm in the air bellowing incoherently in the manner of one who had just been victorious or was pretending that he had been.
Duo shook his head, grinning in self-satisfaction. “It’s like taking candy from a baby.” He subtly yet ostentatiously slid a creased pair of 20-cred bills between his fingers.
Quatre narrowed his eye in concern. He recognized that look. It usually preceded the two of them getting into some sort of jam usually involving the WEI lawyers, the Preventers and occasionally a press conference.
“Duo, are you fleecing drunken college boys?”
“Oh, they’re only frosting on the cake,” the violet-eyed man explained. Quatre rolled his eyes. He’d feared as much. Only Duo Maxwell could find himself in the middle of a gambling ring at a hotel-sponsored family luau. Relena would kill them both if they put so much as a toe out of line during the tenth anniversary celebrations. The press was everywhere.
“I know it’s been a pretty dull weekend, but this really isn’t the best...”
“Don’t worry, Q-tle. The stakes are low. No one’s gonna get hurt. Someone just needs to get taken down a peg, that’s all.” Quatre frowned and looked inquiry at Duo. His braided companioned nodded across the narrow strip of sand to a table at the edge of the crowd. At the table was a boy with rich mocha skin, black hair, sharp eyes, a shark-tooth necklace, bright flowered shorts and no shoes. He couldn’t have been more than ten.
Quatre groaned and buried his head in hands at the sight. “Duooooooo. What. The. Hell. Are you doing?” he ground out.
“Trust me. It’s in the bag.”
“That’s not what I meant!”
“Quatre! I’m disappointed in you. Look, word on the street, well, in the kitchen, has it that Fan’s sister is unbeatable and he’s been raking in the cash from poor, unsuspecting island visitors for at least the past two years.”
Before Quatre could ask what the boy’s sister had to do with anything, a petite girl popped out from the crowd at one end of the lawn. She had long black pony tails on either side of her head, turquoise shorts and a white lace-trimmed top. She looked like she should be at a poolside table doing her homework, not a beach-side bar at ten at night. Quatre had a bad feeling about this.
The girl casually approached the torches, her face placidly confident. An expression strangely familiar to Quatre. Just as it looked like she was going to walk right into the crossbar that Quatre just noticed connected the two torch stems, she arched backwards and walked right under it. A cheer arose from the crowd. A small half smile tugged at the corner of her mouth and she sauntered back to her original spot in the crowd.
“What was that about?”
:”You mean you’ve never heard of the limbo?”
“The what?”
“Limbo, man, limbo! It’s an ancient tourist trap tradition. There’s a bar.” Duo gestured with mock elegance to the horizontal bamboo piece between the torches. “There’s a body.” Again he gestured toward where the girl was standing. “Body must walk forwards underneath bar with no part of said body touching the ground except the feet without knocking the bar down. It’s almost beautiful in its simplicity,” he concluded, pretending to wipe away a tear with his napkin.
“That’s it? Anyone could do that.”
“Ahhhhhh, my skeptical friend, the trick is that the bar is lowered a notch every round. The last one to successfully pass under the bar without touching down wins.” Quatre now understood the notches in the torch stands that stopped about a foot from the ground, but still somehow felt bewildered.
“And so you are sitting around betting against twelve-year-old girls who should be in bed so they can get up for school in the morning?”
“They’re on holiday break,” Duo corrected. “Geez. Come on. What happened to my partner in crime? My best buddy? My right hand man?”
“He wants to get laid.”
“Stop whining and just enjoy watching your boy in action.”
“My boy? Wait a minute...”
At that moment a very recognizable figure stepped out of the crowd. Long and lean, oh so tan against his white tank top and drawstring pants, with a shock of auburn hair falling freely across one side of his face, he stood with confidence and an equally imperturbable expression of calm on his face.
“Oh no.” Quatre breathed.
“Oh yes!” Duo countered. “Like I said, it’s in the bag.
Shouts from the audience burst out at the sight of him – ‘No way’ ‘He’ll never do it’ ‘Go, Beautiful!’ Fan was looking even smugger than before.
Trowa approached the bar with deadly grace and slowly rolled backwards. The bar, only at the height of the girl’s shoulders, was level with his solar plexus. He spread his legs and bent a bit at the knees then slid under like an oiled snake. Cheers of approval mixed with expressions of disbelief passed around the crowd. Quatre risked a glance at Fan. The boy looked slightly annoyed, but still confident.
Another weaving fratboy popped out of the crowd. Clearly in good shape, and only slightly tipsy, he looked like he was going to make it as he copied Trowa’s stance.
“Don’t worry, Tad only looks like he’d be good at this.”
“Trust me, that’s not what I’m worrying about,” muttered Quatre as he checked the charge on his phone and double checked that his press agent was still number 2 on his speed dial.
Tad, it turned out, could not manage to get his shoulders low enough, and the bamboo bounced off his chest and onto the ground. Several murmurs of disappointment followed. A smiling man with salt and pepper hair and a bartender’s jacket came out and lowered the bar one notch. A young blond woman came out next followed by a hail of cat calls and wolf whistles.
“Trini is good. She’s lifeguarding here for the summer and is in great shape. But she’s really in on it with Fan – she drives up the betting and brings in the college crowd but doesn’t have what it takes to beat Lao-Li.”
Quatre looked pointedly at his friend. “Do I want to know how you know this?”
“What’s WEI stock trading for right now?”
“68 and a quarter.”
“There are just some things you know,” Duo concluded knowledgably. Trini managed to get under the bar, though bobbled it a bit on her breasts, much to the delight of the gathered frat boys. “She’s also a total tease. But she’ll make it through at least one more round.”
She actually made it through two. A kid named Todd washed on his next round, along with a Tim and a Kyle, who apparently were all members of the gymnastics team at their university. A wiry African woman, Apara, according to Duo, with a very large number of ear piercings and a flourish of tattoos around her arms, lasted one round longer than Trini, and then it was only Trowa and Lao-Li who went at it neck and neck for two more rounds without faltering.
Quatre was hoping the crowd would wane as the lateness of the hour increased, but was disappointed to find that folks, roused by the cheers of the increasingly raucous crowd, started drifting over from the various other beach bars. By the last few rounds, the kitchen staff began drifting in, freed from their restaurant duties for the night and more than happy to “steal” Duo’s money as they laid down their cash for the undefeated champion. Trowa, at 6’4”, they referred to as The Tree and they ribbed Duo for his blind faith in the forestry service.
“Tsk,” chirped Duo at one point. “I hate to take their money, but if they’re going to ignore Shinigami’s advice, what can I do?” He glanced significantly at Fan who returned a calm nod to his opponent.
“I can’t believe this,” muttered Quatre, who, for his part, tried to look like he was casually enjoying the entertainment, while avidly scanning the crowd for reporters and photographers. Adding to his tension was the fact that every pass Trowa made, lower and lower each time, sweatier and sweatier, was a painful reminder of why Quatre had come down there in the first place. He’d actually penciled “Ravish Trowa” in his day planner right after “Attend Formal Anniversary Reception.” Leave it to his ne’er-do-well friend and society-shy boyfriend to sneak off early and get themselves embroiled in this.
He sighed quietly as the rod was lowered yet again. As near as Quatre could tell, it was now at the level of Trowa’s knees and was therefore impossible. Lao-Li stepped forward to thunderous applause, which quickly fell to silence as, unruffled as ever, she stepped forward, eyes carefully calculating her position. She would not have an easy time of it herself. Even with her shorter stature, it clearly below mid-thigh level for her. For the first time, Quatre doubted whether she could do it.
Fan maintained an air of quiet superiority, counting the money he’d already won so far, though Quatre was able to catch a few telltale hints of nervousness in the way he snapped some of the bills. Duo followed Quatre’s glance and grinned maniacally. Fan scowled.
“He has reason to be nervous,” Duo informed his companion. “Intel says this is the lowest it’s ever gone. That’s why there’re so many insiders here,” he added, gesturing to the smattering of bell hops, room service staff and valet parking attendants interspersed through the crowd. Quatre found himself leaning forward on the edge of his chair, the thrill of the competition finally stirring in his blood.
Lao-Li carefully bent her knees, leaned her weight forward, trying to keep it over her heels as she bent backwards a little at a time, getting her knees under before getting her shoulders too low. The audience held its collective breath. Someone had even suspended the lackluster slack key guitar music that had been blaring from the bar’s stereo all night long. Only the sound of the shifting sand beneath her feet and the distant waves on the beach could be heard. She inched along slowly, her hips clearing the bar, then her stomach, her chest... and then, distaster. She’d rushed the last bit and her upper body moved a fraction faster than her feet. Despite a valiant effort to compensate by hopping forward her knees crashed into the sand and she was officially out.
Offers of sympathy mixed with curses of disbelief. Fan stayed perfectly still as did Duo, their eyes locking, black onyx hard and defiant, amethyst amused and insufferably assured.
“So did we win?” Quatre asked quietly, since the audience appeared to be expecting more.
“Not yet. Tro’s gotta win this round, otherwise they tie and have to replay the previous round.”
Quatre licked his lips and watched his lover prowl out from the crowd. He didn’t earn as many cat calls as Trini but he got his fair share. Quatre added a couple of his own, which won him approval from Duo at last.
Trowa’s expression remained neutral as he stepped into position. He spread his legs, bending deeply at the knees, carefully keeping his weight balanced over his feet as Lao-Li had done. The sweat-soaked white cotton of his trousers clung to his widely splayed thighs, clearly outlining the strength of the straining muscles there as well as what lay between. The tendons in his ankles seemed as taut as bowstrings, his abs, peeking out of the gap between trousers and top, rippled under the stress. His progress was painstakingly slow, but his balance was rock solid. His hips went under, but he didn’t give in to the temptation to rush from there.
A bead of sweat trickled down his temple to dance around his ear lobe. Quatre wanted more than anything to crawl forward and lick it off. Apparently he wasn’t the only captivated by the performance, because he heard a low voice murmur “Jesus!” behind him. A few more inches, and then a few more, and then the broad shoulders cleared and then was the moment of truth – could he rein in the forward momentum and stand before his knees hit the ground. Much to the crowd’s astonishment, he could. He shot his arms upward, using his superior upper body strength to pull him up and, while he took an awkward step forward before regaining balance, nothing illegal hit the ground.
There was a moment of stunned silence before the audience broke into cheers, variously, of congratulations, amazement and dismay. Trowa disappeared into a throng of admirers. Fan sat still, looking devastated.
“You’re not really going to take his money, are you Duo?” Quatre asked.
Duo shrugged. “Of course not. I just wanted to prove to him that no one’s invincible. Except me of course.” Quatre smacked him on the back of the head. “Hey,” Duo protested. “It’s an important lesson for all street rats to learn.”
Their moral debate was cut short as Quatre heard someone shout “How ‘bout a picture Mr. Barton?” His brow creased with worry as his eyes darted between the well-known news correspondent and the gradually increasing pile of money on their table. He was reaching for his phone when Duo caught his wrist with a wink.
“I said not to worry Q-ball, and I meant it. Everything’s fine.”
“Duo.....” Applause distracted him from his well reasoned explanation as to why this was going to look sooooooo bad in the papers. A group of people parted to reveal Trowa standing up from where he’d been kneeling next to Lao-Li. He strode out to the area next to the torches and looked back at her, offering a brief conspiratorial smile. As she stepped out onto the sand toward him, he bent backwards, planting his hands in the sand, creating a human bridge. Lao-Li, much to the delight of the crowd, proceeded to limbo beneath him. The reporter laughed along with the rest of them and snapped a barrage of pictures.
Quatre watched his lover fondly, marveling not for the first time, how at ease he could be in the spotlight surrounded by dozens or even hundreds of ordinary folks, but how uneasy he was at a simple reception of the upper echelons. When Lao-Li finished, Trowa flipped up into a standing position then offered Lao-Li a high-five, which she accepted with a shy smile.
The reporter turned toward their table, and Quatre felt his tension return. The phrase ‘public relations nightmare’ kept floating through his head. Instead of aiming his journalistic talons at Quatre, however, the man pulled a bill from his pocket and handed it to Duo.
“There you go, Maxwell,” he said ruefully. “When am I going to learn not to bet against a gundam pilot?”
“I don’t know, Gene,” Duo replied cheekily. “When are you?” They both laughed like old friends, much to Quatre’s surprise and relief. Gene looked pointedly at the pile of cash.
“Another donation to the Sister Helen Orphanage?”
“Not this time!” The reporter frowned at Duo’s reply and Quatre held his breath. “There’s a perfectly good orphanage right here on the island that this is going to.”
“Good man,” said Gene slapping Duo on the back. “Now lead me to those drinks you make with the tequila and the green stuff and the smoke.”
“In a minute...” Duo said, catching sight of the small boy approaching the table.
“Here’s your winnings,” Fan said sullenly.
“Keep it,” said Duo coolly.
“I don’t need your pity.”
“And I don’t need your money. I just wanted the title.”
“You cheated. You used a ringer.”
“So did you. Mine just happened to be better than yours.”
Fan scowled but refused to take the money back until a firm hand descended on the stubborn boy’s shoulder. “Take the money, kid,” said Trowa, kneeling down beside him. “Buy your sister something nice. She earned it.” Both heads turned toward the girl reluctantly talking to the reporter. Quatre could see the moment when the boy chose his sister’s happiness over his own pride, and felt a swell of affection toward his lover.
Once Fan left, Quatre was on his feet, one hand firmly around Trowa’s bicep.
“And now, my dear, we have some unfinished business to attend to,” he growled.
“We do?” Trowa asked in confusion. Quatre let his arousal brush against Trowa’s hip.”
“Ahhhh. So we do,” confirmed Trowa, a sultry smile creeping onto his face.
“And what am I supposed to tell your adoring fans?” Duo asked in mock exasperation.
“Tell them he had an important meeting with a talent scout,” instructed Quatre as he pulled his lover away. Duo chuckled, watching them go.
”Happy scouting,” he called after them before turning back to the crowd to look for Heero. He had some scouting of his own to do.
- fin -
lil_1337's birthday, and she really deserves fic for her birthday!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BABE!!I find it appropriate that the prompt for the week was 'low' and that's exactly how I've felt since this whole thing happened. But as they say - when life throws you lemons, make lemonade... of course I'm more partial to the positively brilliant Sanzo line from the Saiyuki fic Beyond All Limits: Running Hot and Cold by itainohime: "It was a truism: that whenever life handed him lemons, he was always careful to cut the lemons into neat slices, and squeeze the juice into someone else's eyes."
So, anyway, here is my somewhat rambling and inconsequential offering for the day.
Title: Bending Over Backwards
Author: Lukoni
Characters: Quatre+Duo (friendship), Quatre/Trowa
Word Count: ca 2900
Summary: While vacationing on a tropical island Quatre gets to watch two master showmen at work.
Rating: PG
Warnings: Humor, minors involved with illegal (but nonsexual) activities, adult sexual situations, gratuitous Trowa ogling.
Notes: In the wake of the fandom paedophilia witch hunt I decided to write a story with no artistic merit involving children performing illicit activities that yet manage to have nothing to do with sex. Fuck you, WFI. Right. Anyway.... Written for GW500 challenge #184: Low. Feedback/Criticism/Typo notifications welcome. Thanks for reading!
Bending Over Backwards
“Duo! There you are!” called Quatre as he shouldered his way through the lively crowd and took the extra seat at his friend’s table.
“Heya Q-Bean. You been lookin’ for me?” asked Duo, barely flicking his eyes away from the action. The action consisted of, from what Quatre could discern, a clearly intoxicated young man in a funny hat leaning backwards and calling out to some ancient deity that had most likely had been completely made up for the benefit of the tourist trade.
“Actually, I’ve been looking for my wayward not-so-better half. Rumor has it he was last seen in your company.”
A shout from the crowd forestalled any response Duo might have made. The guy in the strange hat was now sitting on his ass between two brightly burning tiki torches decorated in faux tribal designs. He crawled to his feet and pumped his arm in the air bellowing incoherently in the manner of one who had just been victorious or was pretending that he had been.
Duo shook his head, grinning in self-satisfaction. “It’s like taking candy from a baby.” He subtly yet ostentatiously slid a creased pair of 20-cred bills between his fingers.
Quatre narrowed his eye in concern. He recognized that look. It usually preceded the two of them getting into some sort of jam usually involving the WEI lawyers, the Preventers and occasionally a press conference.
“Duo, are you fleecing drunken college boys?”
“Oh, they’re only frosting on the cake,” the violet-eyed man explained. Quatre rolled his eyes. He’d feared as much. Only Duo Maxwell could find himself in the middle of a gambling ring at a hotel-sponsored family luau. Relena would kill them both if they put so much as a toe out of line during the tenth anniversary celebrations. The press was everywhere.
“I know it’s been a pretty dull weekend, but this really isn’t the best...”
“Don’t worry, Q-tle. The stakes are low. No one’s gonna get hurt. Someone just needs to get taken down a peg, that’s all.” Quatre frowned and looked inquiry at Duo. His braided companioned nodded across the narrow strip of sand to a table at the edge of the crowd. At the table was a boy with rich mocha skin, black hair, sharp eyes, a shark-tooth necklace, bright flowered shorts and no shoes. He couldn’t have been more than ten.
Quatre groaned and buried his head in hands at the sight. “Duooooooo. What. The. Hell. Are you doing?” he ground out.
“Trust me. It’s in the bag.”
“That’s not what I meant!”
“Quatre! I’m disappointed in you. Look, word on the street, well, in the kitchen, has it that Fan’s sister is unbeatable and he’s been raking in the cash from poor, unsuspecting island visitors for at least the past two years.”
Before Quatre could ask what the boy’s sister had to do with anything, a petite girl popped out from the crowd at one end of the lawn. She had long black pony tails on either side of her head, turquoise shorts and a white lace-trimmed top. She looked like she should be at a poolside table doing her homework, not a beach-side bar at ten at night. Quatre had a bad feeling about this.
The girl casually approached the torches, her face placidly confident. An expression strangely familiar to Quatre. Just as it looked like she was going to walk right into the crossbar that Quatre just noticed connected the two torch stems, she arched backwards and walked right under it. A cheer arose from the crowd. A small half smile tugged at the corner of her mouth and she sauntered back to her original spot in the crowd.
“What was that about?”
:”You mean you’ve never heard of the limbo?”
“The what?”
“Limbo, man, limbo! It’s an ancient tourist trap tradition. There’s a bar.” Duo gestured with mock elegance to the horizontal bamboo piece between the torches. “There’s a body.” Again he gestured toward where the girl was standing. “Body must walk forwards underneath bar with no part of said body touching the ground except the feet without knocking the bar down. It’s almost beautiful in its simplicity,” he concluded, pretending to wipe away a tear with his napkin.
“That’s it? Anyone could do that.”
“Ahhhhhh, my skeptical friend, the trick is that the bar is lowered a notch every round. The last one to successfully pass under the bar without touching down wins.” Quatre now understood the notches in the torch stands that stopped about a foot from the ground, but still somehow felt bewildered.
“And so you are sitting around betting against twelve-year-old girls who should be in bed so they can get up for school in the morning?”
“They’re on holiday break,” Duo corrected. “Geez. Come on. What happened to my partner in crime? My best buddy? My right hand man?”
“He wants to get laid.”
“Stop whining and just enjoy watching your boy in action.”
“My boy? Wait a minute...”
At that moment a very recognizable figure stepped out of the crowd. Long and lean, oh so tan against his white tank top and drawstring pants, with a shock of auburn hair falling freely across one side of his face, he stood with confidence and an equally imperturbable expression of calm on his face.
“Oh no.” Quatre breathed.
“Oh yes!” Duo countered. “Like I said, it’s in the bag.
Shouts from the audience burst out at the sight of him – ‘No way’ ‘He’ll never do it’ ‘Go, Beautiful!’ Fan was looking even smugger than before.
Trowa approached the bar with deadly grace and slowly rolled backwards. The bar, only at the height of the girl’s shoulders, was level with his solar plexus. He spread his legs and bent a bit at the knees then slid under like an oiled snake. Cheers of approval mixed with expressions of disbelief passed around the crowd. Quatre risked a glance at Fan. The boy looked slightly annoyed, but still confident.
Another weaving fratboy popped out of the crowd. Clearly in good shape, and only slightly tipsy, he looked like he was going to make it as he copied Trowa’s stance.
“Don’t worry, Tad only looks like he’d be good at this.”
“Trust me, that’s not what I’m worrying about,” muttered Quatre as he checked the charge on his phone and double checked that his press agent was still number 2 on his speed dial.
Tad, it turned out, could not manage to get his shoulders low enough, and the bamboo bounced off his chest and onto the ground. Several murmurs of disappointment followed. A smiling man with salt and pepper hair and a bartender’s jacket came out and lowered the bar one notch. A young blond woman came out next followed by a hail of cat calls and wolf whistles.
“Trini is good. She’s lifeguarding here for the summer and is in great shape. But she’s really in on it with Fan – she drives up the betting and brings in the college crowd but doesn’t have what it takes to beat Lao-Li.”
Quatre looked pointedly at his friend. “Do I want to know how you know this?”
“What’s WEI stock trading for right now?”
“68 and a quarter.”
“There are just some things you know,” Duo concluded knowledgably. Trini managed to get under the bar, though bobbled it a bit on her breasts, much to the delight of the gathered frat boys. “She’s also a total tease. But she’ll make it through at least one more round.”
She actually made it through two. A kid named Todd washed on his next round, along with a Tim and a Kyle, who apparently were all members of the gymnastics team at their university. A wiry African woman, Apara, according to Duo, with a very large number of ear piercings and a flourish of tattoos around her arms, lasted one round longer than Trini, and then it was only Trowa and Lao-Li who went at it neck and neck for two more rounds without faltering.
Quatre was hoping the crowd would wane as the lateness of the hour increased, but was disappointed to find that folks, roused by the cheers of the increasingly raucous crowd, started drifting over from the various other beach bars. By the last few rounds, the kitchen staff began drifting in, freed from their restaurant duties for the night and more than happy to “steal” Duo’s money as they laid down their cash for the undefeated champion. Trowa, at 6’4”, they referred to as The Tree and they ribbed Duo for his blind faith in the forestry service.
“Tsk,” chirped Duo at one point. “I hate to take their money, but if they’re going to ignore Shinigami’s advice, what can I do?” He glanced significantly at Fan who returned a calm nod to his opponent.
“I can’t believe this,” muttered Quatre, who, for his part, tried to look like he was casually enjoying the entertainment, while avidly scanning the crowd for reporters and photographers. Adding to his tension was the fact that every pass Trowa made, lower and lower each time, sweatier and sweatier, was a painful reminder of why Quatre had come down there in the first place. He’d actually penciled “Ravish Trowa” in his day planner right after “Attend Formal Anniversary Reception.” Leave it to his ne’er-do-well friend and society-shy boyfriend to sneak off early and get themselves embroiled in this.
He sighed quietly as the rod was lowered yet again. As near as Quatre could tell, it was now at the level of Trowa’s knees and was therefore impossible. Lao-Li stepped forward to thunderous applause, which quickly fell to silence as, unruffled as ever, she stepped forward, eyes carefully calculating her position. She would not have an easy time of it herself. Even with her shorter stature, it clearly below mid-thigh level for her. For the first time, Quatre doubted whether she could do it.
Fan maintained an air of quiet superiority, counting the money he’d already won so far, though Quatre was able to catch a few telltale hints of nervousness in the way he snapped some of the bills. Duo followed Quatre’s glance and grinned maniacally. Fan scowled.
“He has reason to be nervous,” Duo informed his companion. “Intel says this is the lowest it’s ever gone. That’s why there’re so many insiders here,” he added, gesturing to the smattering of bell hops, room service staff and valet parking attendants interspersed through the crowd. Quatre found himself leaning forward on the edge of his chair, the thrill of the competition finally stirring in his blood.
Lao-Li carefully bent her knees, leaned her weight forward, trying to keep it over her heels as she bent backwards a little at a time, getting her knees under before getting her shoulders too low. The audience held its collective breath. Someone had even suspended the lackluster slack key guitar music that had been blaring from the bar’s stereo all night long. Only the sound of the shifting sand beneath her feet and the distant waves on the beach could be heard. She inched along slowly, her hips clearing the bar, then her stomach, her chest... and then, distaster. She’d rushed the last bit and her upper body moved a fraction faster than her feet. Despite a valiant effort to compensate by hopping forward her knees crashed into the sand and she was officially out.
Offers of sympathy mixed with curses of disbelief. Fan stayed perfectly still as did Duo, their eyes locking, black onyx hard and defiant, amethyst amused and insufferably assured.
“So did we win?” Quatre asked quietly, since the audience appeared to be expecting more.
“Not yet. Tro’s gotta win this round, otherwise they tie and have to replay the previous round.”
Quatre licked his lips and watched his lover prowl out from the crowd. He didn’t earn as many cat calls as Trini but he got his fair share. Quatre added a couple of his own, which won him approval from Duo at last.
Trowa’s expression remained neutral as he stepped into position. He spread his legs, bending deeply at the knees, carefully keeping his weight balanced over his feet as Lao-Li had done. The sweat-soaked white cotton of his trousers clung to his widely splayed thighs, clearly outlining the strength of the straining muscles there as well as what lay between. The tendons in his ankles seemed as taut as bowstrings, his abs, peeking out of the gap between trousers and top, rippled under the stress. His progress was painstakingly slow, but his balance was rock solid. His hips went under, but he didn’t give in to the temptation to rush from there.
A bead of sweat trickled down his temple to dance around his ear lobe. Quatre wanted more than anything to crawl forward and lick it off. Apparently he wasn’t the only captivated by the performance, because he heard a low voice murmur “Jesus!” behind him. A few more inches, and then a few more, and then the broad shoulders cleared and then was the moment of truth – could he rein in the forward momentum and stand before his knees hit the ground. Much to the crowd’s astonishment, he could. He shot his arms upward, using his superior upper body strength to pull him up and, while he took an awkward step forward before regaining balance, nothing illegal hit the ground.
There was a moment of stunned silence before the audience broke into cheers, variously, of congratulations, amazement and dismay. Trowa disappeared into a throng of admirers. Fan sat still, looking devastated.
“You’re not really going to take his money, are you Duo?” Quatre asked.
Duo shrugged. “Of course not. I just wanted to prove to him that no one’s invincible. Except me of course.” Quatre smacked him on the back of the head. “Hey,” Duo protested. “It’s an important lesson for all street rats to learn.”
Their moral debate was cut short as Quatre heard someone shout “How ‘bout a picture Mr. Barton?” His brow creased with worry as his eyes darted between the well-known news correspondent and the gradually increasing pile of money on their table. He was reaching for his phone when Duo caught his wrist with a wink.
“I said not to worry Q-ball, and I meant it. Everything’s fine.”
“Duo.....” Applause distracted him from his well reasoned explanation as to why this was going to look sooooooo bad in the papers. A group of people parted to reveal Trowa standing up from where he’d been kneeling next to Lao-Li. He strode out to the area next to the torches and looked back at her, offering a brief conspiratorial smile. As she stepped out onto the sand toward him, he bent backwards, planting his hands in the sand, creating a human bridge. Lao-Li, much to the delight of the crowd, proceeded to limbo beneath him. The reporter laughed along with the rest of them and snapped a barrage of pictures.
Quatre watched his lover fondly, marveling not for the first time, how at ease he could be in the spotlight surrounded by dozens or even hundreds of ordinary folks, but how uneasy he was at a simple reception of the upper echelons. When Lao-Li finished, Trowa flipped up into a standing position then offered Lao-Li a high-five, which she accepted with a shy smile.
The reporter turned toward their table, and Quatre felt his tension return. The phrase ‘public relations nightmare’ kept floating through his head. Instead of aiming his journalistic talons at Quatre, however, the man pulled a bill from his pocket and handed it to Duo.
“There you go, Maxwell,” he said ruefully. “When am I going to learn not to bet against a gundam pilot?”
“I don’t know, Gene,” Duo replied cheekily. “When are you?” They both laughed like old friends, much to Quatre’s surprise and relief. Gene looked pointedly at the pile of cash.
“Another donation to the Sister Helen Orphanage?”
“Not this time!” The reporter frowned at Duo’s reply and Quatre held his breath. “There’s a perfectly good orphanage right here on the island that this is going to.”
“Good man,” said Gene slapping Duo on the back. “Now lead me to those drinks you make with the tequila and the green stuff and the smoke.”
“In a minute...” Duo said, catching sight of the small boy approaching the table.
“Here’s your winnings,” Fan said sullenly.
“Keep it,” said Duo coolly.
“I don’t need your pity.”
“And I don’t need your money. I just wanted the title.”
“You cheated. You used a ringer.”
“So did you. Mine just happened to be better than yours.”
Fan scowled but refused to take the money back until a firm hand descended on the stubborn boy’s shoulder. “Take the money, kid,” said Trowa, kneeling down beside him. “Buy your sister something nice. She earned it.” Both heads turned toward the girl reluctantly talking to the reporter. Quatre could see the moment when the boy chose his sister’s happiness over his own pride, and felt a swell of affection toward his lover.
Once Fan left, Quatre was on his feet, one hand firmly around Trowa’s bicep.
“And now, my dear, we have some unfinished business to attend to,” he growled.
“We do?” Trowa asked in confusion. Quatre let his arousal brush against Trowa’s hip.”
“Ahhhh. So we do,” confirmed Trowa, a sultry smile creeping onto his face.
“And what am I supposed to tell your adoring fans?” Duo asked in mock exasperation.
“Tell them he had an important meeting with a talent scout,” instructed Quatre as he pulled his lover away. Duo chuckled, watching them go.
”Happy scouting,” he called after them before turning back to the crowd to look for Heero. He had some scouting of his own to do.
- fin -
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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on 2007-08-08 06:54 am (UTC)Thanks for writing and sharing!
*wipes muse drool off the keyboard*
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on 2007-08-08 07:06 am (UTC)no subject
on 2007-08-08 02:06 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-08-08 05:14 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-08-08 04:39 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-08-08 05:17 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-08-08 06:16 pm (UTC)I love Quatre and Trowa when they behave like real people. And a scheming Duo? How could I pass this up!
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on 2007-08-08 09:23 pm (UTC)(Love your icon!!)
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on 2007-08-08 07:02 pm (UTC)lovely ficcie! thank you!
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on 2007-08-08 09:33 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-08-08 08:24 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-08-08 09:38 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-08-09 12:44 am (UTC)The descriptions were wonderful, enough detail to create the visual but with space to fill it in. I loved Duo and Trowa scheming together especially since they would be the ones to know about how important that life lesson is. You did a great job of balancing Quatre's response against that of Duo's and the ending was perfect with Duo and reporter.
*glomps you again because I can*
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on 2007-08-09 03:18 am (UTC)Cool that you liked Duo and the reporter! I was kinda picturing this as being set 5 years after a series of stories I did last year where they were all at a resort for the war's 5th anniversary and Duo had quite a few poker buddies in the press corp. It's easy to see him hooking up with the working stiffs while Quatre's stuck off doing his Winner Industries BS.
And once again I leave a note to myself to get a life...
Anyway, thanks for the great feedback! <3
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on 2007-08-09 03:29 am (UTC)I'd love to read more from this universe, its fun and it always makes me smile. Duo hanging out with the guys in the press amuses me especially with all the trouble he
doescan create for Quatre.no subject
on 2007-08-09 04:24 am (UTC)Thanks for the encouragement!! It's always bothered me that I stopped before the couples actually got together. But they kept out-pranking each other to the point that I couldn't figure out how to continue. My mind is not nearly as devious as Q's. Maybe if I could get my hands on a zero system for few minutes I could figure it out!
Actually... I did have one idea... but I couldn't seem to quite make it work. It was a little too contrived, I think. Maybe I should try again.
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on 2007-08-09 05:27 am (UTC)They will do what they want to do and if you try to mold it into something else they rebel big time. I'd be happy to help you brain storm if you want to bounce your ideas off someone.
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on 2007-08-09 02:02 am (UTC)Excellent work. Love the visuals and that Duo was donating all his 'profits' to a local orphanage
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on 2007-08-09 03:26 am (UTC)Hehe - yeah, I couldn't let him keep the money!! And we all know Duo's a big sap deep down inside.
(Hey, Scary Icon is back! Awesome. I love it and it gives me nightmares at the same time. And I'm always psyched to see it in my in-box!!)
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on 2007-08-10 02:44 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-08-11 02:09 am (UTC)no subject
on 2007-08-10 02:45 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-08-11 02:14 am (UTC)no subject
on 2007-08-11 04:44 am (UTC)no subject
on 2007-08-11 03:58 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-08-11 01:58 pm (UTC)ANYWAY! *_* You do the bestest funny and sexy fics ever. Seriously. I totally envy your ability to write such fresh and funny and fun and sexy. <3 Hurray for Horny!Quatre, Player!Duo, and Flexible!Trowa. And Double hurray for Trowa ogling!
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on 2007-08-11 04:37 pm (UTC)And thanks so much for your wonderful feedback!!!! *blushes* I'm so glad you enjoyed the humor and the ogling. I think my personality is just one that tends to find humor in anything, which does make it difficult to do serious fics, but hey, everyone needs a niche, right? I know I'd kill for your ability to mix complex emotional interaction with super hot smex!! So here's a triple HOORAY for variety!! <3
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on 2010-01-26 10:04 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2010-02-01 06:34 am (UTC)