Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Of Textbooks and Temptations ❯ Quatre Learns to Appreciate Music ( Chapter 2 )

Standard Disclaimer:  I don’t own.  I don’t make any money.  I am a bag lady using the facilities provided by the public library.  Well, I might as well be.

Warnings:  Yaoi, language, humor, AU, Quatre's POV

Pairings (so far): Walkerx2, 2+1, 4+3

Beta: Harmonie Des Anges

Archive: The Vault (www.templeofthegoddess.com)

A/N:  Before you can think that he’s OOC, just remember that different lives can change little things about who a person is. This is all based on the University of Central Florida.


Of Textbooks and Temptations
By Solanum Dulcamara

Chapter 2:  Quatre learns to appreciate music

Cars creep around me, desperately searching for a parking spot, in a lot filled past capacity.  Don’t they know that nothing is available at 11:00 A.M.?  They honk at me before driving around.  Do I give a shit?  Not at all. My happy ass is going to sit directly in font of the visual arts building until I can find someone’s parking space to take.  Not that I’m getting a little antsy after sitting here for 20 minutes.  Every now and then, I begin to think that Duo’s idea of taking early classes has merit.  Then I remember that I hate early mornings.  Before I get around to working up a good internal argument, I see a pleasantly smiling face exiting the building.  Bingo.  I roll down the window and flash her a vibrant smile.  She smiles back.  Now to go in for the kill, “Hey!  Are you leaving?”

She looks surprised that I’m speaking to her.  This must be her first semester.  She then nods, bouncing her coppery curls. 

“Would you like a ride to your car?”  Her eyes widen and an undeniable smile graces her face.  She nods emphatically and rushes to my car.  Sweet girl… she’ll learn the technique; guaranteed parking and no effort.  She introduces herself, gives directions to her car, and begins chatting amicably.  I have an amazing ability to feign complete interest and attention.  We pull up behind her car and she gushes her thanks as she gets out.  Now all I have to do is wait for her to pull out and Ta-da:  insta-parking.  I’m glad Colbourn Hall is so close.  (1)

While first year students annoy the hell out of Duo, they amuse the shit out of me.  Seriously, every fall I’m amazed by their witless enthusiasm as they wander around the sprawling campus, hopelessly lost.  Plus, they look at you like you’re a god if you help them.  What can I say… I enjoy being admired.

As I enter Colbourn Hall, the muted sounds of a poorly tuned trumpet doing rhythmless scales seeps through the cracks of a practice room door.  And they’re a music major?  Sick. (2)  Time for ‘music appreciation.’  Isn’t it funny that music related fine arts majors are required to take ‘music appreciation?' We obviously appreciate music or we’d be engineering majors or something. 

The classroom is a decently large lecture hall.  Time to get lost in the sea of apathetic students.  A frantically waving hand in the back of the room catches my attention.  Ah… Hilde.  At least I know someone, and not just anyone.  Hilde is my “chop-my-hair-off-shorter-than-yours, ball-busting, percussionist punker, femi-nazi, male-friendly lesbian” friend.  You just gotta love her.  Besides, her smile is more infectious than mine. 

She gives me a critical look, “Red?  And a sweater vest?”

“I like red, and I like sweater vests.”

“You might as well get fag tattooed on your forehead.”

“Your hair got shorter.  Are you going for the cock-diesel G.I. Jane look?”

“Yeah, I missed you too.”

See.  Great friends:  the flamer and the dyke.  She’s more of a man than I’ll ever be and whenever her mom sends her ‘girlie’ clothes, she donates to my wardrobe.  “Hey Hilde.  Who’s the professor for this class?”

"Not professor.  Teacher.  And I heard he’s a grad student.”

Oh no.  I hate when grad students thank that they are qualified to teach.  Hilde’s expression reflects my thoughts.  But before I can open my shit-talking mouth, a tall, mysterious, leanly muscled specimen strolls in and randomly selects a chair.

“Down Quatre.”

“What?!”

“You had that look in your eye.”

“Which look?”

“The ‘he’d better be gay or I’m going to convert him’ look.”

“Oh… well, is he?”  Hilde has the most amazing gay-dar.  She can sense homosexuality in like a 40-mile radius.

The smile that she gives me cannot be described as simply evil.  It is superiorly maleficent in the most ill meaning way, “You, my dear Quatre, are going to have to find that out on your own… But if it helps, he is wearing a turtle neck.”

“Maybe he’s hiding hickeys from a GIRL.”

“Yeah, and maybe I’ll join a convent and marry the church.  Although… he might be bi.  It’s tough reading him.”

“Fabulous.  Now I’m going to spend an entire semester pining after him.”

“Bullshit.  You and I both know that pining involves too much emotional involvement.  You want to get in his pants.  And since when has the question of sexual preference ever diverted you?  Why don’t you set up a study date with him or something?”

“Since he’s beautiful, and who has study dates for ‘music appreciation?  On the other hand… you have a point.”  I’ve gotten some from much straighter guys than this one… but not nearly as beautiful.  Hilde and her never shut mouth interrupt my potentially self-depreciating thoughts.

“So, I wonder where this GTA is?  The natives are getting restless.”

“Who cares.  He’s late, so I’m going to take advantage of this opportunity.”  Mustered courage… check.  Charm turned on… check.  I stand and slowly approach my unsuspecting victim.  Wow!  He’s even hotter close up.  Time to use the ‘almost everyday, but subdued’ voice.  “Hi,” I offer, sliding into the seat next to him.

He gives me this super blank assessing look before returning a deep, “Hello.”

Did I just cream my pants?!  His voice is pure orgasm.  Recover and continue conversation, “So… don’t you think that it’s kinda weird that music majors have to take this class?  I mean we obviously appreciate music.”

He’s quiet for a moment… very pensive… very sexy… before suggesting, “I think, perhaps, this class is designed to bring students beyond simple appreciation to a deeper understanding of the life and power in every note they play.”

He’s not just a musician.  He’s an artist… a poet… my kindred spirit.  Sleep with him or not, I need to get to know this guy.  There’s obviously passion behind his cool exterior.  Time for my retort, “And what if my heart’s been the metronome for my life and every breath a note waiting to be played?”

“Then you and I should get together some time.”  SCORE!

“I’m Quatre.”

“Trowa.  So, what do you play?”

“Lots of instruments, but usually violin or piano.  And you?”

“I play a variety as well, but I have a bit of a preference for the flute.”
The flute?!  How could I have even doubted this guy?  He not only plays for our team, he’s Duo’s co-captain.  Composure Quatre, “So, when can we get together?”

“I’ll let you know after class.  Can you excuse me for a moment?”

I nod and creep back up to Hilde, triumphant  smile on my face.  Her smug smirk devours my expression, and I flop back in my seat, ready to dish.  I don’t even get to open my mouth before Hilde’s eyes just about bug out of her head.  It’s comical, really.  The only person I know with a face more expressive than hers is our mutual bestie, Duo.  I don’t get a chance to mock her melodrama because a deep, resonating, “Good morning, class” greets my ears.  Very slowly, with no small amount of horror, I turn to face the front of the room, where Mr. Mystery himself is standing behind the podium.  Hilde elbows my side, “Hitting on the teacher!  I’m proud of you, Quat!”

Sweet Jesus!  I can’t wait to tell Duo!  And I am so proven right.  Trowa… I mean Mr. Barton has the same love for music that I do.  It’s more than love, really… we’re rather intimately involved. 

As the lecture ends, Mr. Barton’s voice beacons, “Quatre Winner, if you’d please see me.”  I ignore Hilde’s suggestive looks as I attempt to wade through the wave of students filing out of the lecture hall. 

Upon reaching the podium, he smiles and hands me a slip, “I’ve taken the liberty of arranging an advising appointment for you.  All of the information is on that paper.”

Well, that took no effort.  “Thanks, professor.  I’ll see you then.”  I hope he’s watching me as I sway out of the room.  This is going to be a good semester, after all.

TBC
(1)    True to life.  The technique of giving people a ride to their car is still in effect today.  The parking lots are really that full.
(2)    Sad, but true.  Such unfortunate sounds can often be heard near Colbourn Hall.