Warnings: Trowa in a pissy mood. Trowa in a much better mood ;) Trowa and Heero, doing the wild thing.
by: Shoori


Marking it Down to Learning + Chapter 3
After Hours


Trowa scowled at the pile of papers heaped on the desk. No matter how many files he sorted through, it didn't seem that the pile shrank at all. If anything, it only seemed to get bigger.

Une had had her people contact thousands of police departments all over Earth and the colonies, and had asked them to send files of missing persons with prostitution charges in their files, as well as any missing persons files that they had closed. Going back forty years.

She was thorough, you had to give her that.

Thorough, and god-damned stupid, sometimes. Millions of the damned things had descended on Preventers Headquarters. They'd had to rent an additional building across the street to accommodate them.

That was going to look great on Une's end-of-the-year report.

So, needless to say, the stakes involved in solving this case had suddenly gone dramatically up.

Every spare agent had been put on the job of reviewing the files. Of course, the Preventers were chronically short of competent agents as it was, so everyone who was available had been working super psycho overtime for the last five days.

Of course, the elite unit, the former Gundam pilots, all got special assignments.

Except for him. He was so efficient and thorough, he got folder detail.

Lucky him. Nice to see that attention to detail and commitment to doing a good job got rewarded so handsomely. Everyone else got important assignments, and he got grunt work, because he'd do it right. Lovely.

But hey... what with all the extra space, he'd gotten his own office in the new building.

How special.

But considering this assignment, maybe she'd just given everyone their own offices so that when someone went insane from the tedium, he'd at least be contained. The work was long, exacting and boring. It was also horribly depressing.

He'd read hundreds, thousands, of files, files that concerned many different men and women. Most of the files he'd been assigned were from the L2 and L3 colonies, spanning a period of about forty years. There were many more from the last two decades, when poverty, disease and war had swept through the colonies, devastating the population again and again. But whatever decade they dated from, they all told the same sordid story of desperation and anonymity. Noone had cared about these people. They'd lived in misery, and they'd disappeared, and people had just shrugged and accepted it, no doubt pleased that there was one less human eyesore on the streets. Usually, only the most cursory investigations had been made into their disappearances, and sometimes, not even that.

The regular missing persons cases, not involving the homeless or hookers or those with criminal records were different. Often, exhaustive searches had been put into motion, but those too had generally turned up very little information.

His job was to look for a pattern. They all knew that not all of these disappearances could be placed at the door of the Order. But they had to research, to investigate, to see if they could find some kind of correlation between the cases - where the victims had disappeared from, their ages, their gender... anything.

Heero had argued vehemently that such a search could be conducted much more efficiently by computer. So he had gotten a stack of files and instructions to devise a program that would do what Une wanted it to do.

But there was no time to waste in the meantime. While Heero worked on that, the rest of them had files to go through. By hand.

He ran one hand over tired eyes, and determinedly took another file from the pile and opened the cover. He picked up the grainy photo and stared at it.

Another wasted life. The girl in the photo couldn't have been more than nineteen, but as he sorted through the papers he saw she'd had a rap sheet longer than his arm. Eleven counts of prostitution, the first when she'd been ten years old. Seven counts of possession, three of possession with intent to sell, one breaking and entering, two disturbing the peace, one drunk and disorderly, one aggravated assault - dropped - and six counts of resisting arrest.

He sighed. Her first prostitution arrest at ten years old. Someone should have put her in a home or a shelter or a counseling program or something and helped her. But they'd suspended her sentence, and sent her back to the streets. What the fuck had they expected her to do? Thank God for her second chance and sell her story to the afternoon talk shows?

Assholes. People were assholes. Noone had any concern for those too down-trodden or too weak to speak for themselves. If they had no voice that could be heard, they must not be there.

No politician ever got re-elected by helping the homeless and disenfranchised. They had no permanent addresses, so they couldn't vote.

Trowa carefully spun his chair around, and stuck a yellow pushpin in a map of L2 near the area the girl had last been reported seen. The map already bristled with pins - yellow ones, red ones, blue ones, green ones. Different colors for the different decades they had disappeared.

So far as Trowa could see, all that he had created was a mute, depressing testimony to crime. Lots of people had disappeared all over the place. He couldn't see any connection.

Oh well. Maybe Quatre or Une or one of the other number-crunchers could see something.

He turned back to the file, and began carefully typing pertinent information on the girl into a spreadsheet file. Heero had insisted that they all do that, so when - when, not if - his program was ready, the data would already be typed into the system, at least.

Une had approved that. She was all about killing two birds with one stone.

Or three. Or four. Or however many she could possibly destroy, or bring down, or maim. Une was perfectly happy. She had a potentially high-profile case to work on, that could generate some publicity for her agency if she solved it. If she didn't solve it, Trowa was sure she'd just find some way to hide it. Everyone was listening to her - she was getting all the work she wanted done. Plus, she had the added enjoyment of being able to punish the five of them, without seeming like the vindictive bitch that she was.

Trowa hadn't seen his lovers for more than a few minutes at a time since the case began. Une had, rather cleverly and very spitefully, split their shifts, so that none of them were working precisely the same hours.

The last time Trowa had stumbled home to nap for a few hours, only Wufei and Quatre had been there, both of them passed out cold, Wufei in one of the beds and Quatre on the couch. They were both fully-dressed, and looked as though they'd just passed out where they fell.

When he woke up four hours later, Wufei and Quatre were both gone, and Heero was unconscious on one of the other beds.

He'd passed Duo driving into the garage as he drove out, heading back to work.

Duo had looked tired. Trowa had desperately wanted to stop and talk to him, but the American had wearily waved him on when he'd started to slow his car.

Several times over the last few days, Trowa had fought the urge to chuck the files out the window, call Une a few choice names, and go home for a nap, a bath and some uninterrupted quality time with his lovers.

But then the picture of those two children, sitting behind the long table in the conference room, flashed into his mind, and he sighed and kept working.

The meeting had seemed to last for hours, as Michel and then Dacia told the stories of their brief lives.

The Order. Trowa had never heard of it - none of them had ever heard of it - but it had been powerful enough and strong enough to imprison people like Dacia and Michel for their entire lives, and had so far managed to completely escape detection.

Wufei was doing research, trying to find some mention of it somewhere. He too was going through old files - and old court reports and interview logs and newspaper articles and media blurbs - trying to find some mention of the Order. He was also putting the skills Heero had taught him over the years to work - he'd hacked several heavily protected websites across the world, and while he pored over his research and records, the computer beside him whirred away, going through files of suspect corporations and politicians and governments. He'd probably already found enough proof of tax fraud cases alone to enable Une to pay for this extra building rental, if she could fabricate some legitimate stories of how she'd collected her evidence.

Quatre was investigating the financial files of hundreds of corporations, looking for hidden sources of income, suspicious transfers of funds... anything to indicate that there was a shadowy criminal organization behind the corporate front. He'd found a few things that had excited him to the point of incoherence, and had burst in to tell Trowa about them, but the taller man hadn't understood a word, so the Arab had shot off to find a more appreciative audience.

Duo was on the move. He was one of the best field investigators in the Preventers, so he was being sent to various cities around the world to try to get information from people on the streets. Duo could blend in with those people - he put on an old pair of jeans and a ragged jacket, pulled on a faded cap, and he was no longer a world famous war hero or peacekeeper, he was just a short guy hanging out on the corner. He could fit in at any bar, any club, any seedy hole-in-the-wall joint where Heero would get jumped and Wufei would faint dead away from horror. When Trowa had seen him the other morning, he'd been returning from England. Now, he was somewhere in the Americas. Une had been very vague about when she expected him to return.

Trowa was glad that Duo had gotten that assignment. He would go insane in about fifteen minutes sorting through these endless files. He needed to be up, be doing something active, or frustration caught up with him almost instantly.

Besides, he had seemed to react very strongly to the stories they'd heard from Dacia and Michel. Very strongly.

Trowa sighed, faltering for a moment as he typed. Duo had reacted very strongly. He hadn't made a single joke, or comment or snide remark about the case. Of course he hadn't said anything in front of the kids. But he hadn't said anything later, either, hadn't protested the long hours or the traveling, hadn't tried to contact any of them while he was away.

And more than that... There had been a feeling of anger around him, anger and a steely determination to bring down the Order. They all felt that, of course, but for Duo... Trowa hadn't seen him much lately, but for Duo that urge seemed to be more... personal than it was for the rest of them.

The old photo of the laughing girl who had gone missing all those years ago stared up at him from his desk. What had happened to her? What had her life been like?

Had it been like the stories Dacia and Michel had told them? Sudden capture, incarceration in a dark room, where she was beaten and raped and injected with strange substances that made her feel sick and delirious and made her forget who she was and what had happened to her? Had she been kept from sleeping, addicted to drugs and made to perform sexual acts of all types on anyone that was sent her way? Was she forced to engage in the sexual fantasies of strangers, over and over and over again, all her life, until she was worn out and unattractive, when she was unceremoniously murdered, or sold to someone who probably wanted to murder her in some exotic or horrible way, as Dacia and Michel told them happened to the men and women, boys and girls captured by the Order?

Dacia and Michel had gotten out with the laundry. They hidden in a pile of soiled linens, been bundled into the laundry truck, and escaped when the laundry was unloaded and left somewhere for the night. They'd gone to the Preventers because they were certain that, no matter how hard they tried to hide themselves, they would be caught by the outfit if they remained on their own.

Wufei hadn't believed their story - he'd insisted that it was an old hackneyed plot device that hadn't been original in three hundred years. He'd thought that they were spies of some kind, or working for people who were playing an elaborate trick on the Preventers for purposes of their own, or to generate bad publicity for the agency as a whole.

He'd raved on and on until Dacia started to cry, and Duo snapped at him that cliches were cliches because they were true. He'd pointed out acidly that the reason that old plot devices became old plot devices was that they were plausible, and could happen, and Wufei, devoted student of history, should know that.

He'd been uncharacteristically short for Duo. The others hadn't seemed to notice. But... Trowa had always felt that he had more in common with Duo than with many of the others. They'd all had somewhere to go to bed at night all their lives, and had had someone to watch over them and tuck them in, even if it was a one-armed mad scientist. But he and Duo hadn't had that, and Trowa suspected that there were events that had occurred in Duo's past that the violet-eyed man never wanted to share, and that the others never suspected.

This case seemed to be hitting uncomfortably close to home for Duo. Trowa wondered exactly which aspects of Dacia and Michel's stories the American was most affected by.

He shook his head, forcing himself to abandon those thoughts. Duo would tell them what he wanted, when he wanted. One of the positive points of their arrangement was that they never pressed each other to reveal any of the uncomfortable details of their lives.

There were things that they wanted to hide, and that was understood. It was also understood that if they wanted to talk about anything, they could, but...

Trowa stopped suddenly, frowning. Was that understood? It had never come up, but surely Duo knew that if he needed anything, the four of them would...

But did he know that? Was that even as much of a given as he thought it was?

They never... talked. They'd never promised each other anything other than companionship and sex today. Tomorrow was never mentioned, and so far it had never come.

But... Trowa thought that the five of them had more between them than just sex... At least, he wanted to think that.

He scowled. He wanted to think that. But he didn't know it for sure. And if he didn't, it was probably a given that Duo didn't either.

It had never mattered before. But somehow, now, it did.

The door to his office banged open, and he jumped, startled. He looked up, and Heero was standing in the doorway, staring at him.

"My program is done," Heero announced.

Trowa raised an eyebrow at him. "It works?" he asked disbelievingly.

Heero stared at him in disfavor. "Of course it works," he said contemptuously.

Trowa grinned, shaking his head. Heero had just created a new missing persons database, compiling system and data tracking and collation program. In five days.

"Of course," he apologized mildly, leaning back in his desk chair.

"Let's go home," Heero suggested, just as abruptly.

Trowa frowned at the pile of folders on his desk. "I still have to go through all of those," he said, nodding at the stack. "It'll probably take three hours, at least."

Heero scowled. "I want to go home now," he repeated, with deceptive mildness.

Trowa sighed. "Well, you can go," he reminded the other man.

"I don't want to go alone," Heero told him directly, his meaning obvious in his tone.

Trowa grinned. He just bet Heero didn't. It had been five days since any of them had been together - much too long, as far as the Japanese man was concerned.

Who was he kidding? It was too long by his standards too, his body was reminding him, reacting... strongly... to the other man's presence.

But... the files...

"I really have to... I'm supposed to finish the files," he protested weakly.

Heero narrowed his blue, blue eyes, glaring across the small room at him.

"You... could bring Quatre or Wufei home with you," he suggested, trying not to let the disappointment he felt at the idea into his voice.

Heero shook his head, and crossed the room, moving behind Trowa's desk to stand bare inches from him. He leaned against the edge of the desk, and Trowa rolled his chair back a bit to give him room.

"They just started their shifts," Heero said softly. "Besides... I want you to come home with me."

"The files... " Trowa tried valiantly to remind himself that there was still work to do.

"The program is done now," Heero reminded him. "Anyone can type the information in, and the program will analyze it." He paused for a moment. "Une said that you and I can go home and get some rest. We'll get new assignments tomorrow."

"Une said I could go?" Trowa felt relief and a tingle of decided anticipation move through him. "Why didn't you just say so in the first place?"

"Because," Heero began, and his low voice was suddenly dangerous, "I wanted to see if you'd come with me without permission."

Trowa stared sharply at him, his eyes narrowed in apprehension.

"But you didn't. You put work before me. We'll have to... deal with that."

Decided anticipation. Heero didn't just want release - he wanted to play.

It should be a fun night.

Trowa bowed his head in apology. "I'm sorry, Heero," he murmured softly, in submissive tones intended to enflame his lover's idea of himself as the powerful one. They'd played this game before. "I shouldn't have put work before you," he conceded, almost meekly.

"Hn. Come on," Heero ordered abruptly, pushing himself away from the desk and striding out of the room.

Trowa caught up to him easily, but remained a step or two behind him as they moved through the halls to the parking lot behind the building.

He struggled to keep the small grin off his face. That wasn't part of the game, and it would annoy Heero.

The Japanese man led him out of the building, then stopped by one of the cars in the lot. Heero's car. Heero opened the passenger's side door, and peremptorily gestured for Trowa to get in.

Trowa opened his mouth to protest. He'd driven his car in, and he really didn't want to leave it in a parking lot in the middle of the city overnight. But Heero scowled at him so ferociously that he closed his mouth without speaking, and climbed obediently into the car.

A moment later Heero settled himself in the other seat, started the car and pulled it out of the lot into rush hour traffic.

Fifteen minutes later, Trowa was near to screaming with frustration. The townhouse they all shared was barely eight miles away from Preventer Headquarters. All you had to do was drive a few miles, cross the long bridge over the majestic river that flowed through the middle of Sanc's capital city, and you were there.

In theory.

In practice, all five lanes of traffic heading over the bridge were clogged. Congested. Not moving.

It was probably the damned toll booths at the other end. Trowa didn't care how much goddamned revenue they generated for Relena - they were the biggest pain in the ass in the city.

He squirmed slightly in his seat. They were only a few miles from home. Once they got there, he would be treated to probably several hours of mildly to moderately kinky sex, with perhaps, considering how long they had been abstinent, a few forays into extremely kinky sex.

But instead of that, he was sitting here. In the car. On the bridge.

He clenched his fists, trying to fight the almost-equal sensations of arousal and frustration. They'd get home eventually. And when they did, he'd finally be able to...

He jumped and cried out, banging his head painfully on the car window, when he felt something roughly squeeze his erection through his thin uniform pants.

He turned his head and Heero was grinning at him. He looked down and saw Heero's hand in his lap, and cursed as the other man again squeezed the sensitive flesh between his legs.

"For God's sake, Heero, knock it off," he managed painfully.

Heero raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't respond to the breathless order. Instead, he reached further up and deftly unbuttoned the pants, and pulled the zipper down.

Trowa gasped and tried to push him away, but Heero slapped his hands away and continued.

"Now," the Japanese man said calmly, "If you don't want the people in the next car to realize what's going on, and watch you, I'd advise that you sit very still, and try to look calm."

Trowa glanced out the window in alarm, to see that the people in the car next to him were staring fixedly ahead, mouths set grimly, following established traffic jam etiquette of trying to ignore the fact that you're surrounded by strangers, and pretend that you're sitting alone in some strangely unmoving oasis. But if he kept struggling, they'd look over to see what was going on, and they'd see...

Trowa gasped, and flattened himself against the seat as Heero's hand moved inside the unzipped opening of his pants, through the opening in his underwear, and wrapped tightly around his bare flesh. He clenched his fists by his side, leaning his head back on the headrest, turning his face to stare at Heero.

The Japanese man was facing front, looking for all the world as though he was bored. But his hand kept moving - slowly stroking up the length of Trowa's erection, thumb rubbing the head, pooling the moisture he found there and rubbing it along the rest of the length of his cock.

Trowa moaned, closing his eyes, unable to stop the small, agitated movements of his hips. He didn't dare move more, but he wanted to... he wanted to grab Heero and pull him on top of him... feel him inside him...

Heero began stroking him more roughly, more quickly, his strong fingers pulling upward on Trowa's cock. The taller man began to moan more loudly, moving upward into Heero's touch, squeezing his eyes tightly closed, his fingers closed desperately over the handle on the door. He felt his release building, felt the tightening between his legs, felt it... so close... almost...

"Well, what do you know," Heero said suddenly, his voice perfectly normal.

Trowa's head snapped up as the pressure on his erection suddenly disappeared, leaving him straining... wanting... so close, yet unable to find relief.

"Traffic's letting up," Heero commented pleasantly, putting his right hand back on the wheel.

"Heero, you can't just... " Trowa began thickly, moving his own hand into his lap.

"Zip it up," Heero ordered, turning to glare at him.

"But I need... "

"Wait until we get home," the Japanese man demanded.

"But Heero... "

"And say good-bye to your friends," Heero added as an afterthought.

"My... what?" Trowa demanded, glaring at Heero groaning painfully as he pulled the zipper of his pants up over his straining erection.

The other man nodded past Trowa, and Trowa turned his head to meet the horrified gaze of the man in the driver's seat of the other car. He had just enough time to register the man's expression, as well as the amused smiles of the woman in the passenger seat and the one in the backseat, before Heero moved the car ahead, with a polite honk of the horn and a wave at occupants of the next car.

"My God," Trowa muttered, feeling his face turn scarlet as he slumped down in his seat.

"Well, Dad disapproves, but I think Mom and Daughter like you," Heero commented, chuckling, as he pulled up to the tollbooth and handed the toll worker his change.

"Daughter?" Trowa repeated, horrified.

"Don't worry... she looked legal," Heero replied comfortingly.

Trowa groaned again, careful though not to move any more, to avoid allowing the material of his pants to brush against his overstimulated organ.

They finally pulled into the garage beneath their building, and somehow they made it up to their apartment.

As soon as the door was closed behind them, Heero roughly grabbed Trowa and pushed him against the closed panel of the door. Trowa eagerly bent his head down, his lips meeting the Japanese man's as Heero rubbed his crotch against him.

Trowa moaned, tearing his mouth away from Heero's, bending his head to the side as the shorter man rained rough kisses down the side of his neck, stopping frequently to bite and suck at the tender flesh.

"Heero," he managed to gasp. "I need you... I can't wait any more... "

The other man didn't respond, but he pulled back, taking Trowa's hand and dragging him back into the bedroom. He shoved Trowa hard, and the taller man staggered toward the bed. Before he could regain his balance, Heero was on him, pushing him onto his stomach on the wide mattress.

Trowa groaned, wantonly rubbing his erection against the firm but yielding surface beneath him. He felt Heero's mouth moving against the unprotected back of his neck, and gasped with pleasure, turning his head to the side, as he felt the other man's tongue trace the folds of his outer ear with surprising delicacy.

The next moment, Heero's hands were on his hips, pulling him up to his knees. He knelt, and groaned as Heero's hands slid beneath him, pulling him upright. The Japanese man roughly tugged on his shirt from behind, heedlessly tearing buttons away as he pulled the shirt from his body. Trowa felt his hands move to his waist, and he let his head fall back onto Heero's shoulder as Heero unbuttoned his pants and tugged them and his underwear down towards his knees.

Heero growled slightly, and his lips fastened on Trowa's neck right where it ran into his shoulder. The taller man shuddered with the sensation, and his body jerked as he felt one of Heero's hands wrap around his penis.

"Heero!" he gasped, his hips bucking, trying to slide himself through Heero's tight grip, desperate for friction, "I need it! I need you! Please... "

Heero pulled away, but before he could protest, he shoved him down again, back onto his stomach on the bed. He tugged on Trowa's legs, pulling his knees down, removing his pants the rest of the way.

A moment later, Trowa felt Heero settle on top of him, and moaned in pleasure as he felt the other man's bare skin, smooth and hot against his.

"Heero!" he gasped.

The other man only grunted in reply, but Trowa cried out loudly as he felt Heero's slick fingers enter him, preparing him for what lay ahead.

He didn't have long to wait - all this teasing had had its effect on Heero as well. After barely a moment, Heero withdrew his fingers, and again pulled on Trowa's hips, pulling him upward onto his knees. One strong hand pressed down on the back of Trowa's neck, pushing him down against the mattress, holding him secure, unable to move.

Trowa shivered, turned on at the vulnerability of the position, his untouched cock aching with need.

He shouted aloud, Heero's name, as the other man slowly but steadily pushed his entire length into him in one long, slow, sure thrust.

Heero paused a moment, his chest pressed to Trowa's back, and then he began to move, more quickly with every thrust. Both hands moved to clench Trowa's hips, holding him in place as he pounded into him again and again.

The taller man couldn't hold on very long. Before he knew it, he felt the tell-tale tightening between his legs, and he screamed as his pleasure erupted. Heero's hips held him up, held him unmoving, though, and the Japanese man continued to thrust in and out of him. Trowa moaned with pleasure, and purposely tightened his muscles around Heero's penetrating length.

That caught the Japanese man off-guard - he tensed, and an instant later Trowa heard his cry as he felt his pleasure explode inside him.

Heero collapsed heavily on him, and Trowa pressed his face into the mattress, struggling to calm his heartbeat and stop the fine trembling moving through his entire body.

After several minutes, Heero rolled off of him, and Trowa slowly turned his head to the side to grin up at the other man.

"Damn, Heero," he managed, his voice deep with satisfaction, "You're sure worth the wait."

The Japanese man raised a brow at him, but couldn't stop the arrogant grin that crossed his face.

Trowa yawned loudly. "That was just what I needed," he assured the other man, rolling over on his back and stretching.

"What you needed?" Heero repeated.

Trowa glanced over at him, catching the question in the other man's voice.

"We're not done," Heero informed him flatly. "Not by a long shot." He grinned widely, and Trowa eyed him somewhat nervously. Heero turned his back for a moment and opened the drawer in the bedside table. He turned back to Trowa, dangling the pair of handcuffs he retrieved for the other man to see. "Not by a long shot," he repeated.

Trowa stared at him for a moment, then stared at the gleaming metal hanging in the air between them like a challenge. He looked back up at Heero... and grinned.

"Not by a long shot," the Japanese man repeated for a third time, as he pulled Trowa's very unresisting body beneath him.

[part 2] [part 4] [back to Shoori's fic]