Pressure of a Blade

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He felt heavy. His limbs didn’t want to move. Opening his eyes took monumental amounts of effort, and when his eyelids did yield to his will, they felt like sandpaper grating against the surface. His vision shifted unevenly as he tried to look around. All of this, paired with the grogginess that pinned him to the ground left no doubt in his mind that he had been drugged, some sort of pain medication used on him.

Which reminded him that he should be in some pain, but, currently, there wasn’t any present.

As he came further back into awareness, voices traveled into his head, someone was yelling in the next room, but the sound was garbled. It sounded like he was hearing voices underwater. As he became fully aware of his consciousness, he felt a soft mattress underneath him and recognized the person yelling.

Maxwell and Chang must have arrived. How long had he been out?

Judging by the opulent setting, they were using Sanc palace for their meeting place to plan things out. If they were in Sanc palace, they were confident that the opposition had been neutralized and were waiting for Quatre to escort Relena back to the palace with her security team.

Moving his legs brought about two realizations. 1) The pain medication wasn’t strong enough and 2) There was nothing covering his legs but a blanket.

Sitting straight up, which made his vision blur, again, he realized his shirt and jeans had been removed in the time he was unconscious. He was wearing boxers, black ones. He didn’t own any boxers; why was he wearing someone else’s underwear? Trowa was far from modest, he didn’t get embarrassed easily, but this situation made him uneasy.

He trusted Heero, but he was waking up, drugged, in pain, in a room wearing someone else’s boxers. Needless to say, Trowa was less than pleased.

Even more so when he tried to stand. His right leg didn’t want to work, spasms racked his body from the right side of his low back down the back of his thigh. He was forced to stand up using only his left leg. Irritating.

He refused to hobble into the other room with the others, so he used the excuse of looking for his clothes as motivation to find some semblance of a normal gait pattern despite the pain and spasms.

Irritation turned to suppressed anger when he realized his bedroll was in the room with him, but the duffle with his clothes was not. He’d be damned if he wrapped a blanket around his waist like a scared virgin.

He shouldn’t have been affected by this situation. It should have washed over him as a meaningless event, but whether it was his discomfort over Heero’s professions finally coming to the surface, or just a side effect of whatever drug was in his system, this was not something that was just rolling off his back.

Subconsciously, he went into complete defense mode. But offense and defense are usually pretty closely intertwined, interdependent.

Because of his pain, his normally silent footfalls were not, but they weren’t nearly as loud as the conversation in the next room. Trowa positioned himself at the door for recon.

Maxwell was pissed. Apparently, he thought his stealth sensors were used rather carelessly, that the secret behind its making would come out after this. And it would, even if the most trusted Preventer agents cleared the battle sites, the mere fact that people know it’s a possibility to disappear on the battlefield would open the gates into investigations, experiments, and eventually successful ventures.

But Heero and Chang were trying to calm him, to convince him otherwise, assuring him that only the teams they considered trustworthy would be allowed to clear the wreckage. That Chang and Yuy would personally command the clean up crews.

Everything shut down in that second. Trowa had said he would try to handle having something more than a friendship with Heero after this situation was resolved. But since the others weren’t sitting in there planning a counterstrike, it would seem that the invaders had been handled for the most part: situation resolved.

And now 05 and 01 were back on Preventer duty.

Was Trowa supposed to drop everything he had built his post-war life around to “try?” Would Yuy try to convince him to join the Preventer agency? Not going to happen. He found too much freedom when he was flying through the air, a sense of completion coursed through his veins when he knew the only thing between him and death were the eddies of oxygen that he created with his acrobatics.

Yeah, he and Heero, there were some serious sexual possibilities there, but it wasn’t worth it. His life had been fine before he came to earth this last time, and it would be fine when he returned to the stars.

Maxwell continued to rant about his ousted secret technology. How the invisibility component was a slight of hand trick, a “did I just see that, right” moment that should be used sparingly. He went off about how the war would have ended much quicker if he had used the stealth in the same manner as the Boxes did, and now they would all have to live with the consequences of having to be prepared to fight invisible enemies in the future.

Oh yeah, 02 had worked himself into a righteous fit. They had all seen it before, and usually the fits were very easily pacified, but that wasn’t the case this time. Trowa was surprised Yuy and Chang were still actively trying to appease him.

And quite frankly, the Heavyarms pilot was more than done. He opened the door and walked into the room dressed only in the boxers he had woken up wearing, boxers meant for someone shorter than he was.

Maxwell was pacing behind the couch Chang was using, which faced the high-backed chair Heero currently sat in.

All movement and conversation halted abruptly, so Trowa decided to break the silence, addressing Duo.

“We both know, the only reason you used the technology in that manner was because you had no other choice. Those sensors are not capable of producing a distortion field big enough to encompass your entire gundam, or any full mobile suit for that matter. That’s one of the reasons why the Boxes were made with such small dimensions.” Trowa stated as he leaned against the wall, hiding his eyes behind his hair, but observing everything. “I studied the concept behind your stealth mechanisms, and I’m pretty sure I know a way to combat the field they produce.”

Chang coughed uncomfortably, Maxwell scowled and shifted, and Heero looked far from pleased.

Unsurprisingly, 02 recovered first. “Who called in the stripper?”

Trowa offered nothing in response, but he could see Heero’s shoulders tense, could see the muscles in his jaw clench.

Wufei coughed again. “Not that I agree with what was said, but he does have a point. Would you mind putting on some clothes, Barton?”

“I wouldn’t mind at all, Chang.” His voice was pleasant, but his eyes bored through Yuy, negating any intonation. “If Yuy would be so kind as to return them, I would do so with all haste.”

The other two picked up on the tension between them easily.

Heero responded evenly. “Your jeans are too tight to wear with your injury. You would rip out the stitches getting dressed.”

It made sense, but it was an incomplete explanation. “Does an injury at my hip prevent me from wearing shirts, too?”

Blue eyes widened, and Trowa was rewarded with a slight flush on Yuy’s face. Trowa noticed 02’s eyes narrow in response to the dialogue, but before he could comment, Chang jumped in.

“Perhaps the best option is for Duo and I to go in search of something you can wear, since I doubt you could wear anyone in present company’s clothing comfortably.” Maxwell opened his mouth to speak, but Wufei continued on regardless. “We can pick up something to eat to bring back while we finish planning out the clean up.”

“Wait, I want-“ but Maxwell was cut off as Wufei grabbed his arm and escorted him out of the room.

Silence reigned within the walls for a full minute. When had the silences between the most stoic of the pilots become awkward?

Heero broke first. “Why are you angry?”

Why was he angry? Trowa wasn’t entirely sure; he just was.

He gestured to the boxers he was wearing. “These are yours?” A raised eyebrow made sure Heero knew it was a question.

It was clear Heero was confused about the issue. “I thought that better than waking up naked.”

Wasn’t it? Trowa needed to clear his head…nothing was coming together right in his head. He was still groggy, his vision still slightly blurred, and he felt like he had no control over his body or his emotions. “I need a shower.”

“You shouldn’t. You will get the dressing wet.”

Trowa stared through him. “Unless you intend to physically restrain me, shut up.”

He watched Heero weigh the options mentally. “I’ll redress the wound when you get out.”

The Heavyarms pilot walked away without agreeing and headed back into the room from which he came.

Trowa had only been in Sanc palace once. After Zechs and the White Fang were thwarted, the whole planet seemed to be rejoicing. The pilots were invited to stay with Relena during the celebrations. In reality, Relena really only cared that one pilot in particular attend, but she was polite to all five.

Barton had only stayed for a day and a half to recuperate, but the decorative gold crown molding and pastel neutrals of the walls, paintings, and expensive looking knick knacks were enough to remember even years later.

They were also enough to have him running for the stars, too.

The room he woke up in had two king size beds and chests of drawers with a connecting bathroom. The room the others were in was a living area of sorts, with several sets of furniture arranged to encourage several different conversations. That room connected with other bedrooms, how many, he couldn’t be certain without further investigation.

But right now, he needed a shower in the worst way. And a shave, his face felt like a cactus.

As he let the water wash away the remnants of the medicinal fog, as he felt the flames of water hitting his wound, he let the emotions that were plaguing him melt away. This was not a situation that should bother him, and it wouldn’t. There was a very simple solution to everything that surrounded him.

It was time for him to go back to the circus.

He would leave behind the basic concept of how to counteract the distortion field created by Maxwell’s stealth sensors and disappear; it would be very similar to the last time he was housed in the palace of Sanc.

After he got some pants. That still irritated him, but it was controllable now.

And walking around in a towel was so much better than walking around in Heero’s underwear. Not that he was modest, but it was almost as if Yuy was laying claim to him. Trowa was no one’s property.

But he was also injured. If someone had it in his mind to keep Trowa here, it wouldn’t be very difficult considering it was hard for him to walk without limping, so it would need to be well timed.

Chang and Yuy would be on Preventer duty clearing the battle sites very soon. Maxwell would insist on going with them to protect his technology; he would claim expertise with clearing scrap.

They would go, and he would be left to heal. Alone.

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A little bit of a filler, but with characters as strong willed as 01 and 03, the whole "confession= get together" doesn't really work for me. They are both fighters, they either fight for it or fight against it, but I just don't find it very believable to just: "hey, I think you're hot. Let's get it on." "Yes, let's" sex scene, end of story. Sorry, there's a lemon coming, but they gotta work for it. Sex is so much better when it doesn't come easy. ^^