Chapter Text
'Ahh, now, who's a big boy?' Quatre crooned. 'Who's my little man?'
'You talk to the kid like he's a dog,' Trowa observed. 'Although it might make toilet training easier.'
Quat shot him an arched eyebrow. 'When you have children you can raise them as you like. Besides, he's all of three months old. He hardly understands me.'
'Hell of a formative memory.'
'It didn't do Kae any harm, did it?' Quat rubbed noses with his infant son, and bent him back over his lap for a loving tickle. Malcolm squirmed with a wide baby smile, eyes disappearing into folds of newborn chub. Trowa squinted at the clock, sure that minute hand hadn't budged in the last million agonising years of baby play. It couldn't still be nine o'clock?
'Beer,' Kaelin said, and Trowa reached gratefully for a cold bottle. Kaelin sprawled on the couch beside him, sharing a private eye-roll at his father's antics. For that, Trowa could spring a smile. Kaelin had returned from university ready to be pampered and coddled, and instead had been handily usurped by a surprise pregnancy that was twenty-two years late. Personally, Trowa thought Kaelin was handling it well-- not exactly embracing a baby brother with open arms, but resigned and puzzled were acceptable emotional reactions for a spoilt young man used to being the centre of his parents' lives. Kae even managed to be-- occasionally-- helpful. As long as he didn't have to change diapers.
'You haven't really told me anything about Tahiti,' Quat said then. 'I assume gorgeous and relaxing?'
'I was working,' Trowa reminded him.
'Oh, of course. Security analysts always choose popular holiday resorts in French Polynesia for the serious work atmosphere.'
'It was perfect,' Kaelin conceded. He traced a line down Trowa's neck. 'Except for Mister Farmer Tan here.'
'Too much sun is bad for you.' There were other things that were dangerous in copious consumption, and they'd done plenty of that. Trowa didn't get black-out drunk very often, but they'd managed twice in that week-long conference. Thirty-eight was definitely too old to recover easily from that kind of epic hangover. Kaelin, of course, breezed through it. To be twenty-two again. Trowa envied it. Then again, sleeping with it was enough of a handful. Trowa swallowed a large mouthful of beer. 'So. Malcolm. Not exactly a family name.'
'Honestly, we couldn't agree on anything else.' Quatre kissed the baby's scrunched forehead, and dangled him on one jouncing knee. 'I put my foot down on Vincenzo, and she rejected Saman.'
'Wise,' Trowa said. 'So did you just draw names from a hat?'
Kaelin stole his beer for a sip. 'The Watsons had a dog named Malcolm. They named my brother after a beagle.'
Trowa laughed. 'It was probably a coincidence.'
'No, it was the beagle,' Quatre replied. 'Why throw out a great name just because the beagle had it first? Besides, the original Malcolm died before the baby was born. It's kosher.'
'You're Muslim, Quat.'
'Married to a Catholic,' Kaelin added.
'I like kosher salt,' Quat said. Kaelin rolled his eyes again. This time, Trowa joined him.
'You're cracked,' Trowa told him, and gave Kaelin his beer. He went to the kitchen for another, and opened the refrigerator to check for treats. He rejected Quat's secret cookie stash, poorly disguised as a wheat cereal box, and reached for a yoghurt. 'Maybe Noin just finally sucked you dry.'
'He sneaked a piece of the pie at dinner,' Kaelin tattled, grinning toothily at his father. 'It's a sugar rush.'
'That's today's excuse, anyway.' Trowa rejoined them on the couches, flopping backward. Quat was chewing his lip, and Trowa let him off with a little sigh. 'Nothing wrong with the name Malcolm.'
Quat laughed at him. 'Thank you. Malcolm Mohomed Lucretius Winner.'
Trowa winced. 'That's just fucked up, Quat.' He peeled the lid off his yoghurt, and nudged Kaelin. 'What's your full name?'
'Kaelin Winner.'
'How come Malcolm gets three given names?'
'I wanted him to have options for nicknames,' Quat explained, as if he'd never actually examined the ridiculousness of that statement compared to those chosen names. 'Not that I'd trade my darling boy for anything, but I was hoping for a girl. You would've liked a sister, Kaelin.'
'I have twenty-nine aunts. And seven more on Mom's side.' Kaelin stretched an arm over Trowa's shoulders. 'The last thing we needed was another girl.'
Trowa had the picture of Quat surrounded by a bevy of little blond heads, and had to admit it it looked right. 'Hey, Lucy's still young. Go for it.'
Quat only made a face at him. 'I don't know if I can take more early wake-up calls.'
'You mean the ball and chain doesn't get up with the kids?'
'She gets PM, I get AM.' He jiggled Malcolm, who lolled uninterestingly. If Malcolm had the family looks in his DNA, it wasn't showing yet. Privately, Trowa thought the kid looked more like a potato than a miniature person-- chunky, pasty, and bald. And drooling. Then again, Kae had looked like that, at that age. Maybe there was no telling. Maybe it was Noin's side of the family.
'You're thinking mean thoughts,' Kaelin whispered to him. 'I can always tell.'
Trowa popped a spoonful of yoghurt in. 'You're lying.'
'Am not. You get a little wrinkle. Right here.' Kaelin touched a fingertip to Trowa's brow. 'Missing Tahiti already?'
'I haven't caught up on all the sleep I lost in Tahiti.'
'You and Mom should go,' Kaelin said then, to his father. 'When's the last time you actually took a vacation?'
'I'd love to, if I thought I could get away from the office for more than four hours. And we learnt our lesson with you, anyway. Never take a baby on holiday.' Quat stood, propping Malcolm onto his shoulder and walking him to the window. He pressed a tender kiss on his son's bare scalp, with a soft proud smile. 'Kae, you won't remember this, but your mum was ill for a long time after the birth, and your uncle Wufei used to stay up with me all night, in the Redecorating Room-- you loved that disco-looking chandelier, you'd stare at it forever, and Wufei would just hold you for hours and hours and hours. And you cried every time I touched you. I thought I was the worst father in the world.'
Trowa remembered that. How panicked Quat had been. Eighteen and running on no sleep, torn between a demanding company and a colicky infant. Kaelin had had an ear-splitting screech, those days. And if that half-remembered argument on one of the Tahitian bar-hopping adventures was real, still did have. 'Never would have guessed Wufei would be good with babies.'
'Oh, I think he loved it. Even when Kae had that bad patch with the formula and threw up every single bottle.'
Kaelin rolled his eyes again. Trowa grinned. 'I think we're embarrassing him.'
'I haven't even begun to pull out pictures yet, have I, Malkie? No, I haven't.'
'Of all the nicknames you could have chosen, Malkie? Give me that kid.' Trowa met Quat at the window and swept the baby up, protecting his head as he cradled him in the crook of his arm. Maybe not as ugly up close. And Quatre's blue eyes, very clear for a baby. Malcolm Whatever Winner. Trowa almost felt-- affectionate, for that. Probably a sign of incipient dementia.
'What's wrong with Malkie?' Quat retreated to his couch and made himself comfortable, propping his feet up on a cushion and pillowing his head. 'Kae, you won't remember this either, but Trowa dropped you once.'
Kaelin looked at Trowa on cue. 'You dropped me?'
Trowa winced. 'You were wiggly!'
'And what, you forgot to hold on?'
Quat laughed. 'Well,it was you or the beer...'
'That's low, Quat.' He eased Malcolm up to his shoulder. The kid was dropping off, eyes dragging closed, a string of drool leaving a wet patch on Trowa's shirt. He was a hot little weight in Trowa's arms, all limp sagging limbs and a big cushion of cotton diaper. 'It was at your second birthday party,' he told Kaelin. 'Your dad was taking pictures. Your mom was grilling, and no-one should ever let your mother near an open flame. The thing was flaring up five feet over the top of the grill. And you... you thought the whole thing was exciting as hell. You thought you could catch it. Anyway, I turned to say something to your dad about it and you just launched yourself.' He tapped his hairline, and Kaelin mimicked him, finding the small scar line there. 'Three stitches. I thought they'd never forgive me.'
'I never knew how I got that.'
'My fault.' He bent down to kiss it. 'Forgive me?'
'It's the gentlemanly thing to do.' Kaelin gave him a lick of tongue, and flicked his ear. 'Give me Malcolm.'
He made the handoff, and Kaelin settled back with his brother, awkward at it but making the attempt, at least. Trowa left him at it, sitting on Quatre's side of the room to finish his yoghurt. Quat was pretending to be asleep-- pretending, Trowa wasn't sure why, except maybe to ignore his son and his ex-lover making out in front of him. Fair enough. Trowa was fairly sure that was the vibe he'd been getting lately. Kaelin had come back from university a different person than he'd been when he'd gone in, three years ago. Had always been bright, had always been impatient and driven; but he was focussed now, too, wanting something he didn't have. Whatever that was, he hadn't said yet. But Quat seemed to be treating it as a bomb waiting to drop. For his own part Trowa had just been laying low and keeping out of it. Noin's pregnancy hadn't been easy and he hadn't seen the need to present her an easy target for her famous temper. He was running out of options now, though. Trips to Tahiti weren't in his usual roster of excuses. Maybe Kaelin could be convinced he needed to take a world tour for his further education, or something.
'Hey.' Kaelin nodded at Quat. 'Is he out?'
Trowa bent over to check. Those deep breaths did look real. Quat had an arm propped over his eyes, but his hand was convincingly loose. New father exhaustion was neither pretty nor convenient. 'I think so.'
'So's the baby. Let's leave them to it.' Kaelin laid Malcolm out in the crib in the corner, while Trowa binned his yoghurt and lowered the lights. Kaelin set one of the baby monitors beside his father's couch, and together they left the rec room. Trowa closed the door behind them as quietly as he could. Kaelin leaned on the door, snagging Trowa's fingers to his lips.
'Is it just me, or is he weird lately?'
'Yeah. He's pretty strung out.'
'I've hardly even seen Mom since I got back. She's coordinating some new campaign for the Preventers Foundation Support Network, and she's barely ever here. She wants to get a nanny, but Dad says no.'
'They never had one with you either,' Trowa pointed out. 'He had a crib in his office for you.'
'This must be the night for things I don't remember.' Kaelin smirked at him, enjoying the bumblebee sting of that sideways stab at their age difference. 'Come put me to bed. I have to get up bright and early tomorrow.'
'What's up tomorrow?'
'Dad wants me to come meet some people at the office. He's pushing me toward an internship somewhere.' Kaelin shrugged indifferently. 'If it makes him happy, I can shake hands for a few hours and pretend to be interested in R&D.'
A lot of pretending going on in the Winner family. That news did not make Trowa very happy, but he didn't think Kaelin realised yet what was behind Quat's not-so-little request. 'Who does he want you to meet?'
'Some of the partners, I gather. A couple engineers. You know Dad and his talent promotion schemes. He always has prodigies he's trying to push.'
Quat himself had been a prodigy, once. And yes, Trowa did know a lot about Quatre's schemes for moving talent to the top. Quat was a persuasive man, and there weren't many who could say no to him.
Except maybe Kaelin. Yeah. Kaelin had no problem speaking his mind. He knew what his dad was about and wouldn't let it change his mind. Kaelin was every inch as strong as his father.
'Put you to bed, huh?' he said. 'You staying the night here?'
'I figured it would be easier. Dad gets an early start, even with the baby. Come on. Tuck me in, sing me a lullabye.'
'Sure, brat.'
That Kaelin did remember. Trowa had hardly ever called him anything else. Kaelin glowed smugly at him, and kissed him hard.
Getting to Kaelin's old room in the Winner house meant a considerable trek up and down various stairwells, through the secondary kitchen and past an indoor swimming pool surrounded by arabesque columns and palm trees. Kaelin had his own suite, and for that matter so did Trowa when he cared to stay over, but at the moment he wanted to look at a place that didn't have a couple hundred years of history, didn't have elaborate portraits of dead ancestors and a blunt-force demonstration of obscene wealth. Winners were easy to love individually, but taken all together they usually left Trowa with a headache.
Kaelin shed his coat onto a loveseat in the sitting room, kicked his boots to the rug in the television room, threw his belt at the bath. Trowa caught the shirt when it came flying back, and leant on the bedroom door to watch the trousers fall to the floor. 'You must have been a total slob at university.'
'We actually had housekeepers at uni. If I could convince Dad to go for that, I'd have it made.' Kaelin stripped his undershorts, slipping them down slowly, and faced Trowa dangling them enticingly from a finger right in front of his nethers. 'Not that you're one to talk. I know you have your laundry sent out.'
'I'd rather spend a few extra bucks a month than figure out how to use all those weird settings on the machines.' He grabbed at the waving underpants and pulled Kaelin close to him. He kissed the dimple in Kaelin's cheek, then the vee in his upper lip, then the stubbly tip of his chin. 'Move in with me.'
'I already live with you on summer breaks.'
'You graduated three months ago.'
'True.' Kaelin let the shorts fall, and closed the last of the distance between them. 'You don't have room for all my stuff.'
'You don't have to make excuses. If you don't want to, just say so.'
'I wasn't saying no. I was saying I want a bigger apartment.' Kaelin popped the button of Trowa's jeans and played with the zip. 'Are you coming?'
He kissed Kaelin's neck, because it was just standing there pale and begging to be worshiped. But then he firmly removed Kaelin's hand from his crotch. 'Your parents wouldn't love the idea. And you need to get up early. Like you said.'
'My parents are in separate rooms a thousand feet apart, and in case you haven't noticed, they've got something new to focus on. Meanwhile, I would like to focus on you and me getting reacquainted.'
'That's what you said when you invited yourself along to Tahiti. Not here, okay? I'll sing you that song, then I'll take off.'
Kaelin, per his typical modus operandi, ignored everything he didn't want to hear. That was the other reason Winners gave him a headache. 'Why are you trying not to sleep with me?' he demanded.
'I'm not. I just don't want to fucking do it in your parents' house.' He had to swat Kaelin's hand away again, and physically removed himself from temptation. 'If you want a bigger apartment, I'll get us one.'
Kaelin stood there naked and annoyed, then heaved a sigh and flopped backward onto his four-poster bed. 'With a real kitchen. And a view.'
Kaelin could get a job and contribute some rent, if he wanted to start with the must-haves. Trowa took a stance against the sleek cherry bureau, this time. Kaelin rolled to keep him in eyeline, and knew exactly how good he looked doing it, the little imp. His pert backside made two half-moons on the dark blue duvet, framed by long legs on one end and the arch of a slim muscled back on the other. Kaelin set his chin on his fist, his eyes bright looking back at Trowa, challenging him to keep his distance.
Trowa managed a dry swallow, and kept a level tone. 'You could shop with me.'
Kaelin broke a real smile for that. 'Like old times. Although it just won't be the same, without that crappy hotel you had, in the beginning.'
'We've both grown up a little since then.'
Kaelin stretched out a hand. 'We don't have to fuck. But won't you sleep in the same bed with me?'
'Jesus, you're spoiled.'
'When all I want is you, it's easy to get what I want.'
Yes it was. One day Kaelin was going to come head-on to some real hardship, but it sure wasn't going to be tonight. Trowa melted like butter. Weak-willed, horny butter. He was up and kissing Kaelin before he could chide himself not to. Sitting on the edge of the bed became stroking a hand down Kaelin's bare skin, became lying on the soft duvet beside him, became rolling Kaelin under him and hugging those long legs up around his hips. He regained a fragment of sense when he felt his zip go again, and wrenched his mouth off Kaelin's with an effort.
'I'm not comfortable doing this here,' he tried to explain. 'Your parents--'
Kaelin gave up before he got the full sentence out. He sighed and slid out from under Trowa, dumping him on his side in the bed. But all Kaelin did was pull the duvet out and drape it over them both.
'They have rules,' Trowa said. 'And they're entitled to. Quat's my friend. Okay? And he could still make things hard for us.'
Kaelin fluffed a pillow and settled himself. 'He won't as long as he wants me at WEI.'
So. Maybe Kaelin did know what Quat was trying to do. 'You think he really does?'
'He says it's about laying out my options. I told him about the offer from the London Symphony Orchestra, and he says I should audition if I want, but I don't know.'
'So instead you're going to intern at the mines? You have a degree in music.' Trowa dropped onto his back, staring up at the plaster curliques decorating the ceiling. 'Maybe the two of you should stop playing blackmail games and just be honest about what's going on.'
'Honesty? That's a laugh.'
'That's a problem.'
Kaelin was quiet for a moment. Then he said, 'He does need help at WEI. The shareholders are trying to force him to bring on new partners.'
'Kaelin, you don't want to do this. You've never in your life given a damn about WEI. It's Quatre's business, Quatre's problem.'
'Because of his dad forcing it on him, I know. And he never tried to make me do it. Ever. All my friends, their dads were always having them on for internships, business school, all of that-- Dad let me do what I wanted. I don't know. I don't know when I started to care that WEI's going to end with him.'
'He's been a slave to it his whole life.' Trowa sat up, ripping at the button of his collar to give himself some air. 'Now you'll follow in his footsteps. This is Winner guilt. Shining example.'
'I can't follow him,' Kaelin pointed out. Trowa could feel Kaelin's eyes on him, but couldn't look. His head was hot and he stared at the wall, wishing he'd just left when he knew he ought to. 'Even if I wanted to,' Kaelin went on, 'because I didn't have those internships, because I majored in music, not business theory. And he would never say I'm letting him down, but I hate it, the way the shareholders talk about him. They think he's not as strong as my grandfather.'
'He's different. Not weaker.'
'You don't have to defend him to me. I know.' He felt the backs of Kaelin's fingers on his spine, then reaching around his elbow. He took Kaelin's hand. 'You really feel strongly about this.'
'I've been to this show before,' he said. 'I know the ending.'
Kaelin sat up and embraced him from behind. 'I'm not my father,' he whispered in Trowa's ear. 'I'm going to go there tomorrow and see whatever it is he wants me to see, and I'll do it because it will make him happy. But in the end what I choose to do with my life will be the thing that makes me happy. All right?'
He had to be content with that. Kaelin did, after all, get exactly what he wanted, every time. And he had plenty of time to reflect on that when Kaelin was face-down in his lap, and Trowa was trying to remember why he'd been objecting to them having sex in Quat's house.