Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ My Koi ❯ One-Shot
[ P - Pre-Teen ]
By: Just Silver 
Short and sweet Quatre/Trowa fic. Sorry the title sucks, I'm not good with titles.
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 09.15.2002 | Pages: 1 | Words: 742 | Visits: 420 | Status: Completed
Short and sweet Quatre/Trowa fic. Sorry the title sucks, I'm not good with titles.
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 09.15.2002 | Pages: 1 | Words: 742 | Visits: 420 | Status: Completed
Disclaimer--Don't own, don't sue, on with the story!
Warnings--shounen ai, 3+4; fluff and sap
A/N--One of the earlier fics I've written, I still like it (hope someone else likes it too). Kind of short too. Hope I didn't overdo the fluff/sap, I have a tendency to cut it pretty close. Also, I want to apologize now for every title of every story I write; I suck at titles -_-;;
"Master Quatre." A servant bowed his way into the room. "Your visitor is here."
A small blond-haired young man looked up from the papers he had been reading to see a familiar and welcome figure standing in the doorway. "Trowa!" he greeted the young man with cheerful surprise.
"It's been a while, Quatre." The blond was rewarded with a rare smile from his friend.
Quatre thought for a moment, reflecting on the time that had pasted. "Yes, six months is a while for friends. How's your sister? The circus? Everything?"
"Catherine's fine and the circus will survive without me for a little while. Everything is fine," Trowa told him, but Quatre thought he heard a note of sadness, longing in Trowa's voice.
'Some things don't heal easily,' Quatre thought regretfully, but said out loud, "Everything here is good, a little stressful at times, but not as bad as the war...." He trailed off, as if speaking of a forbidden topic. The servant had left and the two of them were standing alone in Quatre's study in a familiar yet slightly uneasy silence.
After a moment Quatre asked, "Are you hungry? It's almost dinner time and it must have been a long trip."
"Yes, I guess I am. The trip wasn't so bad though, it brought me here." The blond led his taller friend to the dining hall, wondering at a strange feeling that seemed to accompany the Trowa's last statement.
After dinner, Trowa put aside his usual silence and the two spent the rest of the evening on the plush couch of a sitting room, catching up on each other's lives. As Quatre realized how much he had missed his friend he began to regret the distance between them even more strongly. He valued Trowa's company and friendship even more than most would have suspected.
Somehow, later into the night, the conversation inevitably got around to talk of the war, now ended but still a large part of the two young men's lives.
"At least in the war there always seemed to be someone there to help when it got most important. We were all a team more than we wanted to admit," the young Arabian recalled wistfully, always the optimist.
"You didn't think we would let you go up against it all alone, did you?" Trowa teased uncharacteristically.
"I'm not a little boy, you know. You all treat me like I'm some little kid you have to protect! I'm as much of a soldier as any of you!" Quatre's voice, which had started at almost a whisper, was rising sharply. He stood up, aware of a heat in his face and a strange desire to prove to Trowa that he was more than a child. "I can take care of myself!"
"Quatre. I know that. I don't protect you because I think you're incapable. I protect you because...I care about you." At Trowa's words Quatre whirled around to face him. "I thought you knew that."
"Trowa...." Quatre sank back down on the couch, closer now to Trowa than he had before dared.
"And don't call yourself a soldier, Quatre," Trowa continued. "You are too unwilling to fight, too compassionate, too sweet to be a soldier. If you fought in a hundred wars, a million battles you would never be a soldier."
Quatre's forehead felt as if it was on fire as he leaned it against his freezing hands, looking down at the carpeted floor instead of at the young man next to him.
"But neither are you a child, my koi." Quatre was so sure that he had imagined the last two words that he was completely surprised by the hand he felt on his cheek. Another hand gently cupped his other cheek as Trowa lifted Quatre's face up to his.
"I love you," Quatre whispered into Trowa's lips.
"I know, my koi. I think I love you too," Trowa answered as he wrapped his arms around the blond and made any further conversation impossible.
Owari.
J.S.
Warnings--shounen ai, 3+4; fluff and sap
A/N--One of the earlier fics I've written, I still like it (hope someone else likes it too). Kind of short too. Hope I didn't overdo the fluff/sap, I have a tendency to cut it pretty close. Also, I want to apologize now for every title of every story I write; I suck at titles -_-;;
"Master Quatre." A servant bowed his way into the room. "Your visitor is here."
A small blond-haired young man looked up from the papers he had been reading to see a familiar and welcome figure standing in the doorway. "Trowa!" he greeted the young man with cheerful surprise.
"It's been a while, Quatre." The blond was rewarded with a rare smile from his friend.
Quatre thought for a moment, reflecting on the time that had pasted. "Yes, six months is a while for friends. How's your sister? The circus? Everything?"
"Catherine's fine and the circus will survive without me for a little while. Everything is fine," Trowa told him, but Quatre thought he heard a note of sadness, longing in Trowa's voice.
'Some things don't heal easily,' Quatre thought regretfully, but said out loud, "Everything here is good, a little stressful at times, but not as bad as the war...." He trailed off, as if speaking of a forbidden topic. The servant had left and the two of them were standing alone in Quatre's study in a familiar yet slightly uneasy silence.
After a moment Quatre asked, "Are you hungry? It's almost dinner time and it must have been a long trip."
"Yes, I guess I am. The trip wasn't so bad though, it brought me here." The blond led his taller friend to the dining hall, wondering at a strange feeling that seemed to accompany the Trowa's last statement.
After dinner, Trowa put aside his usual silence and the two spent the rest of the evening on the plush couch of a sitting room, catching up on each other's lives. As Quatre realized how much he had missed his friend he began to regret the distance between them even more strongly. He valued Trowa's company and friendship even more than most would have suspected.
Somehow, later into the night, the conversation inevitably got around to talk of the war, now ended but still a large part of the two young men's lives.
"At least in the war there always seemed to be someone there to help when it got most important. We were all a team more than we wanted to admit," the young Arabian recalled wistfully, always the optimist.
"You didn't think we would let you go up against it all alone, did you?" Trowa teased uncharacteristically.
"I'm not a little boy, you know. You all treat me like I'm some little kid you have to protect! I'm as much of a soldier as any of you!" Quatre's voice, which had started at almost a whisper, was rising sharply. He stood up, aware of a heat in his face and a strange desire to prove to Trowa that he was more than a child. "I can take care of myself!"
"Quatre. I know that. I don't protect you because I think you're incapable. I protect you because...I care about you." At Trowa's words Quatre whirled around to face him. "I thought you knew that."
"Trowa...." Quatre sank back down on the couch, closer now to Trowa than he had before dared.
"And don't call yourself a soldier, Quatre," Trowa continued. "You are too unwilling to fight, too compassionate, too sweet to be a soldier. If you fought in a hundred wars, a million battles you would never be a soldier."
Quatre's forehead felt as if it was on fire as he leaned it against his freezing hands, looking down at the carpeted floor instead of at the young man next to him.
"But neither are you a child, my koi." Quatre was so sure that he had imagined the last two words that he was completely surprised by the hand he felt on his cheek. Another hand gently cupped his other cheek as Trowa lifted Quatre's face up to his.
"I love you," Quatre whispered into Trowa's lips.
"I know, my koi. I think I love you too," Trowa answered as he wrapped his arms around the blond and made any further conversation impossible.
Owari.
J.S.