Warnings : 4x3, 1x2, OOC, angst, Trowa POV, language.
Death Fic of the psycho character kind.
The story that spawned the ‘Psycho Trowa Write Your Own Sequel Contest’.

Sleep Deprivation

There is something deliciously sinful in being guilty as hell and nobody knowing. I can stand here doing nothing more than looking morose, and everyone comes and pats my hand and squeezes my shoulder and tells me how sorry they are. I wonder sometimes what it is about being a ‘mourner’ that makes people think you’ve gone deaf? I can hear them, for fuck’s sake, all over the room. Not like any of them are trying to keep their voices all that low. Especially not for someone like me. Not that I care, I’m finding the whole thing amusing as hell.
‘Oh, the poor dear…’
‘He was so devoted…’
‘I don’t know how he’s holding up…’
‘Such a brave young man…’
‘So loving…’
‘Such a perfect couple…’
Yadda yadda yadda. The funniest damn part is hearing those lines from Quatre’s darling sisters. The ones who were horrified when they found out their Fairy Prince brother really was a fairy. ‘Opposed to the union’ doesn’t come close to describing the out-cry. But Quatre always got what Quatre wanted and since he wanted me, they learned to shut the fuck up. And then, being the Winner clan, they learned to put the right spin on it. Deciding if they couldn’t oust me, that they would be politically correct about the whole thing and embrace my presence. At least during the photo-ops.
They’d be pretty damn appalled if they knew I’d killed him.
Devoted. I had to bite my cheek to keep from grinning over that one. Devoted to the life-style. Devoted to the money. At first it wasn’t such a bad trade-off… pretend to be in love with his royal blondness and I got pretty much any damn thing money could buy. And honestly, Quatre wasn’t all that bad in bed either. So it wasn’t like it was a huge ordeal. I grew up a mercenary, after all, selling my skills to the highest bidder was not such an alien concept.
Until something happened that I hadn’t really counted on. Heero and Duo transferred back to the city to the local Preventers’ office. We started seeing them on a regular basis again. Going out together. Having them over for dinner. Going to Heero’s place for movies. Going to Duo’s for cards.
And I started lusting after Duo Maxwell’s ass.
Hell… I’ll be honest; it’s more than lust, though I hate to admit I could be as stupid as the next guy and ‘fall in love’. But… the man was everything Quatre was not. Earthy and alive. Bigger than life and reckless as hell. An adrenaline junkie with a grin that could make your balls tighten just being in the same room with him.
And the more I was around him, the less I could tolerate Quatre and his damn upper crust breeding. Duo didn’t drink tea from little china cups, he drank beer right from the bottle. Duo probably didn’t own a damn business suit, but wore jeans that just accented that lusted after ass. He hadn’t grown soft from working behind a desk. His idea of a weekend away was diving with sharks, or free jumping off a damn cliff.
The man made Quatre look like a pale, sad copy of his father.
But Quatre did have one thing Duo didn’t. Money. And lots of it. But not only that; my dear, sweet Princeling had seen to it that I was more than taken care of. We couldn’t marry, but there was every provision that could be made, to see to it that I would be treated as his ‘husband’ in all things. Our accounts were joint and the cars were in both our names, as was the house and all the property. I could step into any part of Winner enterprises in his absence and people had to do what I said.
And best of all… there was a will. A wonderful will written up by a man madly in love. In the event of Quatre’s death, I got everything.
So… I could have my cake, and eat it too. Had I tried to leave Quatre to pursue Duo, I’d have lost everything. But now Quatre was conveniently out of the picture, I hadn’t lost a thing, and Duo was fair game.
And best of all, no one in the Earth sphere suspected a damn thing. The perfect crime.
How’d I do it? Simple; sleep deprivation.
It had taken the better part of a year, but the absolute and total inability for anyone to pin a thing on me, had made it more than worthwhile.
It had started simply enough… I just played on Quatre’s guilty conscience about how much time he put in at the office.
‘Oh please, wait up for me love… I won’t be too late, and I want to see you!’
Or I would come in late and accidentally wake him up. Which, of course, would lead to something else ‘since he was awake anyway’. Sometimes I would just lie there and stare at him. It never failed to disturb him eventually, but how did you complain when your lover said, ‘I just missed seeing you today. I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to wake you… I just love to look at you.’?
I bought him a cat for his birthday. A breed that I knew was very people oriented. Beast couldn’t stand to be left alone. I made sure it bonded with Quatre and then it wanted to sleep with him. Every night. It made Quatre sleep restlessly. If he put the cat out, it would cry to come back into the bedroom. But how could he complain about a gift from his devoted lover?
If he tried to nap, I would somehow always manage to get a phone call. The kind that necessitated that I talk loudly. If he tried to go to bed early, I would watch television, and somehow the volume would work its way up. Or I would manage to drop something. Or would ‘unconsciously’ sit and tap a pen.
There are a million ways to see to it that a person can not sleep.
Sometimes, rarely, if he got tired enough, he would snap at me, but the resultant guilt would make him an easy mark for weeks on end. I could wake him at all hours because I ‘needed the reassurance of his touch’ and then I could keep him awake for hours with sex.
He was too conscientious to skip out on work, always going in. Making up the slack. The perfect son. The perfect business man. The perfect lover.
And now… the perfect corpse.
It had taken almost a year, but eventually he’d fallen asleep at the wheel of that hot little sports car I’d gotten him for Christmas. The convertible.
Looking at him lying there in the coffin, I was rather amazed at the job the coroner had done hiding the damage.
A hand landed on my shoulder and I glanced to the side with my well-practiced watery eyed look to find Duo standing beside me. His watery eyed look was better than mine, probably because it was genuine.
‘Holding up ok, Tro?’ he asked me gently, and I opted to nod. People assume you can’t speak sometimes when you choose not to. The hand on my shoulder tightened and I squeezed my eyes shut to express a bit of water just for the effect.
‘God,’ he burst out. ‘I’m so, so sorry. I still can’t believe this happened…’
I took the opportunity to raise a hand to place over his, patting gently. He gave me a soulful look that had me wondering if I dared start the ball rolling with him right away. Maybe I could beg him to stay with me for a few days? Just until I ‘got my feet’ under me again? I might even be able to parlay it into a little pity sex. A lot of relationships start out based on less.
His tears escaped him and I squeezed his fingers, trying to look pained and sympathetic at the same time. And then Heero was there, his hand falling on my other shoulder and I had to fight not to frown at him. His timing has always been impeccable.
‘I’m so sorry, Trowa,’ he told me and then looked up to see Duo struggling with his control. I was… somewhat surprised when he held his hand out to his partner with a soft, ‘It’s ok, love.’
And Duo left my side to step into Heero’s arms where he wept unashamedly into his shoulder.
The moment required a great deal of cheek biting. I think I tasted blood. This… was not in the plan. When had they become more than just working partners? This… was a complication. It had taken me over a year to position myself where I was, and I was not happy about finding another obstacle in my way.
Heero unwrapped an arm from around Duo and reached out to give my arm a squeeze. ‘Anything you need, Trowa,’ he told me huskily. ‘You know that, right?’
The line allowed me a tiny smile and I replied softly, ‘I know.’
Oh yes… anything I need. Anything at all. I had the time, and I had the money, and I more than had the experience. Heero Yuy would require a different tact, but I had no doubt I would get that thing I needed in the end. It would just take a little bit more time. Heero would not be as easy as Quatre had been. But I am nothing if not patient.
And if there was one thing I learned from Quatre, it was that I liked getting what I wanted.

End.

 

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