I do not own Gundam Wing. If I did, I'd see what Trowa's hair looks like when it's wet.
For all you STUPID people, this fic contains yaoi (male/male relationship) If you don't like that, shame on you!.. uh.. I mean, don't read ^^.
EVER AFTER
Quatre shivered at the coldness of the room, shaking his head and pulling the violin to his shoulder nevertheless. He couldn't play however; he felt numb. Dejectedly he set the violin haphazardly on the piano top and rubbed his freezing hands together in an effort to keep warm.
"Are you cold, Little One?" Trowa's soft voice inquired. Quatre felt long fingers find his hands.
"You're freezing, Quatre!" the brunette commented, covering Quatre's trembling hands with his own. The frigid temperature was due to the storm plaguing the Winner Mansion, an endless mix of snow and freezing rain. Quatre looked up at Trowa and smiled thinly.
"I was going to play something; you know, lighten things up around here. But I couldn't.." the blond left off, noting how warm not only his fingers, but whole body was now that Trowa was close. To his disappointment, the taller pilot detached from contact and put Quatre's violin back into it's velvet-lined case. As he shut the clasps, he too gave out a shiver.
"You're cold too?" Quatre asked. Trowa shrugged.
"I should be used to it. Let's get you someplace warmer." he said, gently grabbing Quatre's once again cold hand and leading him upstairs.
"The library." Quatre said, stepping into the book-filled room. Indeed, Trowa was right, a roaring fire graced the hearth with an inviting armchair next to it. Despite this, Quatre still shivered. Trowa gave a sympathetic glance and sat down in the armchair, sitting the blond in his lap.
Amazed at the trusting gesture from his best friend, Quatre curled up there, laying his blond head against Trowa's shoulder.
"Are you warm now, Little One?" Trowa asked, his fingers straying to Quatre's cheek. The milky skin was flushed and radiating heat. Trowa smiled and fell asleep just like the one in his arms did.
---
*smack!* was the sound heard as a snowball hit Duo Maxwell squarely in the face. He laughed and threw a handful of the icy stuff at Quatre, who ducked behind a snow bank.
"You're not gettin' away wit that, Q!" Duo vowed, launching another frozen sphere. Trowa did too, striking Duo in the back of the head.
"Hey! 'S not fair! Heero! Help me wit these fools!" Surprisingly, the normally serious pilot joined in like Duo requested he do. Within minutes a snowball hit Quatre in the face, turning his platinum blond hair snowy. They all laughed, continuing the snowball fight like children.
---
Later, Duo and Heero had finally given up and gone inside. Trowa ventured over to the snow bank where Quatre sat, his sweet breath emitted in frosty puffs ever few seconds. Trowa laughed.
"What's so funny?" Quatre demanded, looking up at the smiling brunette.
"Your hair.. it's all snowy." Trowa commented, pulling off his gloves and reaching up to brush it out of Quatre's hair. The blond laughed as well, shaking his head of any remaining particles of the white stuff and smiling innocently up at Trowa.
"Better?"
"Y-Yeah." Trowa replied, looking away guiltily as the same feeling churned at the bottom of his stomach- the sickly sweet feeling of being in love with somebody who doesn't know it. He'd been trying to erase it for a very long time, trying to erase how he felt when Quatre
was close; or when Quatre was in danger and needed protection; whenever Quatre touched him; and laughed and sang and smiled at him. The core of every dreamy fantasy Trowa had ever thought about revolved around this blond.
"Trowa? Are you okay?" Quatre asked, biting his lip to keep his teeth from chattering.
"I'm fine."
The Arabian took that as a good enough answer, a childish glint of fun shining through his eyes as he stuck out his bottom lip.
"Bet you can't make me laugh."
Trowa smiled and reached bare hands out to tickle the blond, whom immediately snickered and ran. Trowa gave chase, catching up to Quatre and pinning him down in the powdery snow, tickling him without mercy.
"T-T-Trowa! Okay, okay, y-y-you win!!!!" Quatre admitted, writhing to avoid the long fingers that were making him laugh uproariously so. Trowa ceased, looking down at the vision in front of him embedded in the snow. Quatre was panting from running, his face flushed and cheeks rosy, aquamarine eyes bright and alive.
His white jacket blended in with the snow, his khakis contrasting against it.
Trowa also noted he was sitting on the blond's legs. Slowly, he leaned down and placed a light, feathery kiss on Quatre's lips, whom immediately gasped. Trowa pulled away and helped him up, avoiding the Arabian's heavy questioning gaze. Quatre was puzzled; he was shocked; he was deliriously.... not offended.
It felt so right for Trowa to do something like that, so right for the unibanged brunette to be so close.
Why was Trowa ignoring him now, acting ashamed? Was he scared? They didn't speak and went back inside the house.
---
"He can't keep avoiding me. We have to talk about what happened.." Quatre trailed off, a bright red blush gracing his features as he remembered being pinned under and kissed by Trowa Barton. He shivered, wondering why the thought of something like that brought little excited sparks to his spine.
He giggled, ceasing only when the shadow of a tall figure graced his doorway. Trowa stepped in, shutting the door behind him.
"Quatre.. I.. came to apologize, for the.. kiss." he said brokenly, emerald eyes dark and shadowed.
"Why?" Quatre asked, sitting cross-legged on the bedspread. Trowa's eyes sparked.
"What do you mean, 'why'?"
"It was.. nice." Quatre admitted, watching the taller pilot bite his lip in an internal battle.
"Quatre...?"
"You barely gave me any time to respond. Why don't we continue?" the blond asked, standing up and sliding small arms around Trowa's waist. Trowa sighed, and then smiled, feeling as if the sickly sweet feeling was being blotted out by just overwhelming sweetness.
He wrapped his arms around Quatre, leaning into the warm, comforting, and protective embrace.
"Ai-ai shiteru, Little One." he whispered, resting his chin on the silky blond hair.
"Ai shiteru, Trowa." Quatre replied, getting lost in the brunette's tight embrace. Trowa tilted Quatre's face up, claiming the soft lips with his own. Quatre sighed happily into the kiss, breaking away at the necessary moment for air.
"Tenshi." Trowa whispered fondly, fingers raking through Quatre's blond hair.
"Koibito." Quatre replied, bringing a warm feeling to all of his body. Lover. The word would suit Trowa for now.
"Ai dake." they whispered simultaneously to each other.
--
Well.. 0_0.. it was fluffy and kawaii... but R/R.
[note: Ai shiteru= I love you, tenshi=angel, koibito=lover, ai dake= my love]
For all you STUPID people, this fic contains yaoi (male/male relationship) If you don't like that, shame on you!.. uh.. I mean, don't read ^^.
EVER AFTER
Quatre shivered at the coldness of the room, shaking his head and pulling the violin to his shoulder nevertheless. He couldn't play however; he felt numb. Dejectedly he set the violin haphazardly on the piano top and rubbed his freezing hands together in an effort to keep warm.
"Are you cold, Little One?" Trowa's soft voice inquired. Quatre felt long fingers find his hands.
"You're freezing, Quatre!" the brunette commented, covering Quatre's trembling hands with his own. The frigid temperature was due to the storm plaguing the Winner Mansion, an endless mix of snow and freezing rain. Quatre looked up at Trowa and smiled thinly.
"I was going to play something; you know, lighten things up around here. But I couldn't.." the blond left off, noting how warm not only his fingers, but whole body was now that Trowa was close. To his disappointment, the taller pilot detached from contact and put Quatre's violin back into it's velvet-lined case. As he shut the clasps, he too gave out a shiver.
"You're cold too?" Quatre asked. Trowa shrugged.
"I should be used to it. Let's get you someplace warmer." he said, gently grabbing Quatre's once again cold hand and leading him upstairs.
"The library." Quatre said, stepping into the book-filled room. Indeed, Trowa was right, a roaring fire graced the hearth with an inviting armchair next to it. Despite this, Quatre still shivered. Trowa gave a sympathetic glance and sat down in the armchair, sitting the blond in his lap.
Amazed at the trusting gesture from his best friend, Quatre curled up there, laying his blond head against Trowa's shoulder.
"Are you warm now, Little One?" Trowa asked, his fingers straying to Quatre's cheek. The milky skin was flushed and radiating heat. Trowa smiled and fell asleep just like the one in his arms did.
---
*smack!* was the sound heard as a snowball hit Duo Maxwell squarely in the face. He laughed and threw a handful of the icy stuff at Quatre, who ducked behind a snow bank.
"You're not gettin' away wit that, Q!" Duo vowed, launching another frozen sphere. Trowa did too, striking Duo in the back of the head.
"Hey! 'S not fair! Heero! Help me wit these fools!" Surprisingly, the normally serious pilot joined in like Duo requested he do. Within minutes a snowball hit Quatre in the face, turning his platinum blond hair snowy. They all laughed, continuing the snowball fight like children.
---
Later, Duo and Heero had finally given up and gone inside. Trowa ventured over to the snow bank where Quatre sat, his sweet breath emitted in frosty puffs ever few seconds. Trowa laughed.
"What's so funny?" Quatre demanded, looking up at the smiling brunette.
"Your hair.. it's all snowy." Trowa commented, pulling off his gloves and reaching up to brush it out of Quatre's hair. The blond laughed as well, shaking his head of any remaining particles of the white stuff and smiling innocently up at Trowa.
"Better?"
"Y-Yeah." Trowa replied, looking away guiltily as the same feeling churned at the bottom of his stomach- the sickly sweet feeling of being in love with somebody who doesn't know it. He'd been trying to erase it for a very long time, trying to erase how he felt when Quatre
was close; or when Quatre was in danger and needed protection; whenever Quatre touched him; and laughed and sang and smiled at him. The core of every dreamy fantasy Trowa had ever thought about revolved around this blond.
"Trowa? Are you okay?" Quatre asked, biting his lip to keep his teeth from chattering.
"I'm fine."
The Arabian took that as a good enough answer, a childish glint of fun shining through his eyes as he stuck out his bottom lip.
"Bet you can't make me laugh."
Trowa smiled and reached bare hands out to tickle the blond, whom immediately snickered and ran. Trowa gave chase, catching up to Quatre and pinning him down in the powdery snow, tickling him without mercy.
"T-T-Trowa! Okay, okay, y-y-you win!!!!" Quatre admitted, writhing to avoid the long fingers that were making him laugh uproariously so. Trowa ceased, looking down at the vision in front of him embedded in the snow. Quatre was panting from running, his face flushed and cheeks rosy, aquamarine eyes bright and alive.
His white jacket blended in with the snow, his khakis contrasting against it.
Trowa also noted he was sitting on the blond's legs. Slowly, he leaned down and placed a light, feathery kiss on Quatre's lips, whom immediately gasped. Trowa pulled away and helped him up, avoiding the Arabian's heavy questioning gaze. Quatre was puzzled; he was shocked; he was deliriously.... not offended.
It felt so right for Trowa to do something like that, so right for the unibanged brunette to be so close.
Why was Trowa ignoring him now, acting ashamed? Was he scared? They didn't speak and went back inside the house.
---
"He can't keep avoiding me. We have to talk about what happened.." Quatre trailed off, a bright red blush gracing his features as he remembered being pinned under and kissed by Trowa Barton. He shivered, wondering why the thought of something like that brought little excited sparks to his spine.
He giggled, ceasing only when the shadow of a tall figure graced his doorway. Trowa stepped in, shutting the door behind him.
"Quatre.. I.. came to apologize, for the.. kiss." he said brokenly, emerald eyes dark and shadowed.
"Why?" Quatre asked, sitting cross-legged on the bedspread. Trowa's eyes sparked.
"What do you mean, 'why'?"
"It was.. nice." Quatre admitted, watching the taller pilot bite his lip in an internal battle.
"Quatre...?"
"You barely gave me any time to respond. Why don't we continue?" the blond asked, standing up and sliding small arms around Trowa's waist. Trowa sighed, and then smiled, feeling as if the sickly sweet feeling was being blotted out by just overwhelming sweetness.
He wrapped his arms around Quatre, leaning into the warm, comforting, and protective embrace.
"Ai-ai shiteru, Little One." he whispered, resting his chin on the silky blond hair.
"Ai shiteru, Trowa." Quatre replied, getting lost in the brunette's tight embrace. Trowa tilted Quatre's face up, claiming the soft lips with his own. Quatre sighed happily into the kiss, breaking away at the necessary moment for air.
"Tenshi." Trowa whispered fondly, fingers raking through Quatre's blond hair.
"Koibito." Quatre replied, bringing a warm feeling to all of his body. Lover. The word would suit Trowa for now.
"Ai dake." they whispered simultaneously to each other.
--
Well.. 0_0.. it was fluffy and kawaii... but R/R.
[note: Ai shiteru= I love you, tenshi=angel, koibito=lover, ai dake= my love]