Warnings: R; Yaoi; 1X3
Disclaimer: I don't own GW, andI certainly DO NOT own "Passenger"
by Deftones and MJ
'He's not a soldier.'
The realization came to Trowa by instinct. It was not an analyzed thought
nor an assumption based on theory or reason. He had just glanced over
at his tired comrade and suddenly knew for certain what he'd hoped all
'He's just a boy . . . like me.'
The wind, as they flew down a dark highway at somewhere around ninety
miles per hour and nowhere near civilization, was cool and harsh as it
whipped through Trowa's bangs, stinging his forehead and eyes. Still,
he watched the boy on the seat across from him as he too, was assaulted
by the flurry.
Heero looked tired, as tired as Trowa knew he should be, as tired as Trowa
himself was. His face was tensed, glowing slightly red from the lights
in the dash panel, his eyes squinting as if the midday sun were glaring
upon them instead of the pale moon, and Trowa couldn't help but notice
a certain weariness in all of the boy's mechanical movements, making him
wonder if Heero had fallen asleep, and only the shell of his body and
that undying determination was left, driving them farther.
"Something wrong?" Heero asked, his voice as lifeless as his
Trowa looked away from where Heero sat, somewhat surprised at the boy's
awareness, and turned his face back into the wind. It seemed to blow softer
now, Heero must have slowed, and he enjoyed the cleansing feeling it gave
" . . .the breath of the night . . ." he murmured.
"Sorry?" Heero asked.
Trowa closed his eyes and laid his head on his arm, letting the air rush
over him. He was feeling strangely peaceful.
"The wind is nice, don't you think?" he offered quietly, and
Heero heard him even over the roar of the diesel engine.
"Yes," he agreed. "Should I go faster?"
"No . . . probably shouldn't . . . with the gundams and all."
Silence descended again and after long moments of basking in the cool
thrum of the air, he turned again to watch Heero.
'He's a boy. Not a machine. Not a soldier. Not a measurement of courage
Trowa slipped an arm out the window, running it along the cool metal of
the truck door, feeling it smooth and cold beneath his fingers.
'He's like me, and Quatre, and Wufei, and . . . even Duo.'
He let the wind catch his hand violently, bending it at the wrist and
making his fingers flail and tremble.
'He's like me. And I'm like him.'
He raised his arm a little, meeting even further resistance but not giving
in. The wind beat against his hand, advancing like a strong enemy force.
It whirled up his arm and into his sleeves, finally breaking against his
face and neck. He liked the wind.
'And I like him.'
"Are you sure you're okay?" Heero asked again. Trowa had thought
him unaware of his gaze but obviously he had underestimated the other
"Yeah. Just tired," Trowa returned, not averting his eyes.
"Go to sleep then. I'm fine by myself," Heero said, finally
turning to look at Trowa, and despite the fatigue that was apparent in
Heero's face, Trowa knew it was true. Heero could do anything, alone or
"Maybe we should pull over . . . just for a bit," Trowa suggested.
"Perhaps you should get some sleep."
Heero looked back at the road, setting his jaw. "I told you, I'm
Trowa didn't relent, the wind made him bold, pushed him farther. "Don't
you get tired, Heero?"
"Of course," Heero replied, "I'm human, just like you but
. . ."
'Just like me . . .'
" . . . I can't let that stop me."
"Which one Heero?" Trowa asked softly, he'd lain his head back
onto his arm again and regarded Heero through fluttering bangs.
"Which can't you let stop you? Being tired . . . or being human?"
Heero looked over at Trowa again, his expression inwardly pensive, as
if it were the first time he'd considered the question.
"Both," he said finally, breaking his gaze away. And then he
did something Trowa hadn't expected. He lifted his foot from the gas and
slowly yet firmly, applied the brakes.
It took a full thirty seconds or more to safely slow the vehicle, its
hefty cargo quadrupling its inertia, the brakes squealing in protest.
But finally, Heero seemed to find a suitable patch of dirt to pull over
onto and the cab was suddenly swimming in an intense silence as the engine
and lights died, soaking them in the haughty pitch of night.
Trowa immediately mourned the wind, wishing momentarily that he hadn't
asked Heero to pull over. Stillness could be so unsettling.
They sat for a moment, the sudden silence cutting into them. Neither moved
nor spoke, and the windows began to fog lightly.
"You sleep first," Trowa said finally, managing to get the words
out before Heero could use them on him. "I'm not sleepy, just tired.
I'll watch the truck."
Trowa heard Heero shift in his seat, the leather material complaining
with a creak. He hoped Heero wouldn't argue.
"Fine," Heero relented, taking the order like the obedient soldier
he was trained to be. And moments later, Trowa was surprised when Heero's
head was suddenly in his lap. There was no permission asked, none given,
none needed. Trowa tensed at first but, at length, he dropped a hand Heero's
head and stroked the soft hair.
here I lay, still and breathless
The moonlight found its way into the cab and Trowa could almost see the
soft outline of Heero's face, it's boyish angles softened further in the
darkness, making him look even younger than his sixteen years. Yet that
tenseness was still there, still determined, still driving.
just like always
"Trowa?" Heero's soft voice boomed in the quiet cab.
There was a long pause before Heero answered, after which, Trowa understood
the reason for his hesitance.
The strands beneath and between Trowa's fingers were silky and thick and
he could feel Heero's unease as the solid body trembled in his lap. "Of
"I don't know." Heero's voice, his uncharacteristic confusion,
was an encompassing discernible force, despite that he spoke hardly above
a whisper. "I think it may be -- like you said. That I can't let
my humanity stop me. But someday . . . it will."
still I want some more
"You're afraid of death?" Trowa asked. "That's understandable,
"No," Heero said, turning now to lay the back of his head in
Trowa's lap, staring into the same darkness but finding it more comforting
knowing that Trowa's face, his eyes were there somewhere. His own eyes
glimmered wetly in the moonlight. "It's not that, or . . . not entirely."
A tiny breeze picked up outside and scurried through the window. It was
cool and caressing and if Trowa closed his eyes he could almost imagine
they were driving again.
"I'm afraid that . . . I may become a hero--a martyr, for a species
that . . . I'm not even a part of." Heero's voice was impassive,
betraying his emotions only through the atypical speech and the gossamer
tones. Trowa wondered if it was the sleeplessness or something else making
him so reflective.
'He doesn't know . . .'
"Heero, you can't-"
"No," he interrupted, "I don't know how much humanity is
left in me." He seemed desperate now to tell his story and for Trowa
"You," he continued, "you have the circus and Catherine.
Quatre has his family; Wufei, his colony; Duo . . . his memories."
A pause. "And what do I have, Trowa? Years of training? The war?"
who cares what's behind
"I'm an army ant, Trowa, fighting the good fight to save a race of
just like always
Heero grew quiet. Trowa, not knowing what to say, continued to pet the
silken hair. God, he wished they were still driving.
"I only . . ." He began again, words faltering somewhat, "the
only time I feel anymore . . . I only feel right . . . when I'm with you."
I'm your passenger
Trowa's hand stopped. He hadn't expected that.
Another breeze found its way into the cabin as Heero began to sit up,
reaching a hand behind Trowa's neck, pulling it down even as his lifted,
and the cool air brushed his lips a second before Heero's did.
It was so soft, that kiss. As light as the breeze that caressed their
cheeks and ruffled their hair. Heero's lips ghosted tenderly over Trowa's,
not hesitantly, but without insistence all the same. It was a kiss like
the wind, the breath of the night. It pushed him and made him tremble
and took his breath all at once. It was human and it was Heero.
Heero was leaning on one arm, face inches from Trowa's, his breath tickling
Trowa's lips as he spoke.
"Quatre has his family," he said again, voice as soft but with
different undertone, "Wufei has his colony, and Duo has his memories
. . ." he leaned in even closer, speaking his last words against
the other boy's lips, " . . . can I have you?'
Trowa felt his heart lurch in his chest and he thought he might cry. But
Heero caught his lips again and was swept away in the other boy's flurry,
giving in to its force.
This time the kiss was more urgent and Trowa turned into Heero's warmth,
sliding down on the seat even as Heero turned over and got to his knees,
allowing the other boy to move beneath him. The noises the seat made,
the clanging of the metal on their suits, the deafening roar of their
hot and panting breath, it was so loud and surreal.
chrome buttons, buckles, and leather surfaces
When they broke again both were breathless and tangled and Heero still
wanted an answer.
these and other lucky witnesses
"Say I can have you, Trowa," he begged as he kissed the other's
mouth and throat, breath hot and sticky, "please . . ."
now to calm me
Trowa caught Heero's face in his hands, pulling it to meet an invisible
gaze. He smiled. "You already do, Heero. I'm yours."
'I want you to have me . . .'
Heero made a little noise that made Trowa quiver, and dove onto the other
boy, kissing him desperately now, lips crushing lips, Heero's eager tongue
tasting and exploring every crevice of Trowa's mouth. Insistent. Needy.
this time won't you please . . .
Their bodies were hot and flush against each other, the thick material
of their flight suits only slightly hindering the glory of their friction.
Trowa wrapped his arms around Heero, bringing his hands to stroke the
boy's back, grasping eagerly and pressing up into him.
. . . drive faster
Heero gave another little moan, the sound of unfamiliar emotions, and
the noise hitched in his throat. He scooped his hands beneath Trowa's
back and pulled the boy over until they lay on their sides. He held Trowa
close, squeezing him as if Trowa might turn to vapor and disappear if
he failed to hold tight enough, then he buried his hot face in the soft
flesh of Trowa's neck, and cried.
'Just a boy.'
Trowa held him as he shook and quivered. "It's okay . . . I'm here
. . ." he prompted quietly, there was no turning back.
They lay there for a little while, their passion cooling as Heero's turbulence
calmed and his tears dried, each one a kind of harbor to the other. A
strange flurry wuthered around the cab, whistling as it entered to soothe
the two aching souls.
roll the windows down, this cool night air is
'What an odd breeze,' he noted as he held Heero tightly, ' . . . unnatural.'
And as certainly as he'd decided the nature of the boy he held, he recognized
the nature of that most disturbing of winds.
Heero raised his head from the safety of Trowa's neck to stare into the
vast blackness of the other boy's face. Trowa could feel the sudden alarm
surging through him and Heero suddenly pulled away and moved toward the
open passenger window to peek out and a beat later Trowa was beside him.
They were both deathly silent, even as the wind began to make a noise
of its own: the sounds of an approaching vehicle.
The possibilities of the dangers were endless. Two gundam pilots on the
side of the road, two gundams lying dormant and defenseless. They could
be dead where they sat.
Blindingly bright lights, lots of them, were descending upon them. A pale
shower of dust was illuminated in their wake and their approach was swift
and full of intent.
"Oz," Heero growled, and started to jump to the driver's side
"No, wait!" Trowa whispered urgently. And they did wait. And
a moment later, the civilian mass transport unit was rumbling loudly past
them, packed to the gills with refugees and the wounded.
"My God . . ." Trowa uttered as he watched the eerily pale faces
that peered sleepily from the interior of the bus-like vehicle.
let the whole world look in
Children and mothers, fathers and an occasional pet . . . they looked
solemnly, blankly at the silent truck they passed, only a few noticing
the the curious heads of the two young boys. peeking from behind a misty
who cares who sees anything
It's passing was quick and threw a great gust of wind into the cabin,
but somehow it seemed that Trowa could see every face clearly, every moustache,
and spectacle, every frown and tear, and he ached for them all. But more
than that . . . he was glad he was not among them.
Heero had turned from the sight and was sitting in the wide expanse of
the floor board, his face invisible, but surely Trowa thought, melancholy.
Trowa bent wordlessly, and cradled Heero's head in his arms, pulling him
against his chest.
i'm your passenger
Heero's eyes were dry now, the few tears he had to spare having already
been shed. Still, Trowa's presence was a comfort and he reached a hand
to the back of Trowa's head as the boy bent over him. He turned. They
"Have me, Heero . . . please," Trowa said after they had parted.
I'm your passenger
"Trowa . . ." Heero breathed as he turned and rose to push Trowa
down onto the seat. Those faces, those people, they suddenly haunted him
and he longed to replace the memory, to put something in its stead, anything
to quicken the moment. " . . . Trowa."
They were writhing again, Trowa held beneath Heero's eager movements and
kisses, running his hands along the other boy's sides, fingers sliding
easily over the slick material of the flight suit and catching momentarily
on buckles or buttons.
Heero pressed down into Trowa, wanting to be a part of him, be with him.
It felt so good, so safe in those arms, and even as a night chill began
to settle over the sleeping land, neither boy noticed. They generated
their own warmth.
Trowa's hands wandered to the zipper at Heero's mid chest, pushing it
down to expose the flesh beneath. He pushed it to where it stopped just
above the groin, and slipped a cool hand inside until Heero groaned against
his mouth, wanting more than just a touch.
"Take this off," Trowa said, removing his hand so that Heero
could take action. The other boy didn't hesitate.
drop these down and put them on me
Trowa did the same, finding it only a little difficult to maneuver in
the confined space, and a second later, they were together again. Heero
straddled Trowa's hips, bending to kiss him more. He liked kissing, the
intimacy of it. It was the closest he could come to devouring the other
boy, and had he the capability, he would have eagerly done so.
nice cool seats
"You're hot." Trowa remarked after Heero had dipped his hips
to the other boy's, rubbing their arousals together, " are you okay?"
there to cushion your knees
now to calm me
The black world outside the cab of the truck was dimming. Their bodies
fit so perfectly together. Heero seemed to like to kiss every inch of
skin he could uncover and having the heavy body atop him was a comfort
Trowa had never expected. He could now hear the faint hum of crickets
even over his own stormy gasps. The world was still there, oh yes, it
would not disappear for the happiness of two boys of little or no consequence
to it survival. But, he imagined, as a lazy breeze drifted in, gliding
over and between his and Heero's bodies, it would at least slow for a
take me around again
Heero was panting and sweating now, and so eager to have Trowa that he
thrust lightly against the other boy, making them both gasp delicately.
He wanted every part of Trowa, he wanted everything, but he was reluctant
to pull his lips away, and even more unwilling to have the boy's hands
off of him.
just don't pull over
Trowa sensed this and spread his legs so that Heero's body was between
them, and raised his knees to offer himself.
"Heero . . ."
this time would you please . . .
Heero groaned at the gesture, a little lump forming in his throat, new
tears threatening to surface. He pulled away from Trowa, staring into
the tiny pinpricks that were the catch-lights of the other boy's eyes.
God! How wonderful he felt!
"I could die now . . ." his words began, " . . . and never
regret a moment."
. . . drive faster
Trowa hurt at those words. He ached. In his chest, in his throat, in his
gut, and he knew he wouldn't be able to stop the silent tears. They ran
hot from the corners of his eyes.
Heero kissed him again, and Trowa could taste the salt of the other boy's
tears. How foolish they were! Both crying when they should be at their
happiest. But oh how he knew they needed it . . . each other.
roll the windows down this cool night air is
A howling wind suddenly kicked up and Trowa thought it odd for only a
second before he felt Heero enter him, Heero's saliva making for a somewhat
let the whole world look in
But the wind was forgotten moments later, even as it whipped through his
hair, tangling it with Heero's;
who cares who sees what tonight
even as it shimmied through the spaces between their bodies, cooling and
caressing as it went;
roll these misty windows down to catch my breath
even as he sucked in great lungfuls of it, only to shout them out again
as he trembled with release and felt Heero do the same inside him.
and then go and go and go just drive me home
. . .
'He's not just a boy . . .'
. . . and then back again
"I love you," Heero murmured sleepily as he slipped from inside
Trowa and rolled onto his side to hold the boy close.
here i lay
"Mmm . . ." Trowa replied, knowing that Heero didn't need to
hear the response.
just like always
"In four hours, we'll drive again," Heero said long moments
don't let me
"I'll drive . . ." Trowa whispered. The cabin was beyond silent
now, even the outside had grown quiet. The crickets, the wind, they had
stopped. Stillness could be so unsettling.
He held Heero tight, and knowing the other boy was already asleep, blew
an airy breath over his face, watching contentedly as Heero wrinkled his
nose at the tickle of it.
" . . . and we'll leave the windows down."
go take me to the edge
God . . . he wished they were still driving.
[back to the Reverand's fic]