Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ While You Were Out ❯ While You Were Out Part One ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

While You Were Out
By: DentelleNoir
Summary: AU. Romance. 3x4. One shot in two parts. Decorating for a moving reality-design show doesn’t leave much time to get to know people. But more goes on behind the scenes than what the cameras catch.
Warnings: Fluff, one or two hard curses, the terminology of one who watches WAY too many designing shows, Jason bashing (if you don’t know who I mean, then it won’t really matter), and the use of the ‘While You Were Out’ Show. This began as a one shot and sort of morphed into two parts, but I still call it a One Shot because I just broke it up to make it less daunting to read.

While You Were Out
Part One
There was an absolute flurry of movement from all sides, but Quatre, smiling angelically for the camera, ran inside the room to place the plum vase and arrange the vines inside to complement the tab curtains he had searched through half the city for. The camera panned out to show the carpenter putting hammer to nail by the fireplace in a last minute effort to finish before the reveal. Why the public liked him so much, Quatre never knew. Sure he was definably hot, but off camera he was a quality grade-A asshole. But, smiling brightly again, Quatre waited for his cue and stood in place to help heave the picture onto the less-than stable mantle with Jason flanking his other side. The shot moved to the host outside, stating they had ten minutes while fifteen staff members ran in to the room to set up what was left so that when the camera panned back there was Quatre, amidst the finished room, daintily straightening one of the pictures and polishing his nails on his shirt.
The homeowner was back and wired up with the microphone. Quatre, the designer, flanked by the two carpenters and Evan (the host) were all standing ready to surprise them with their new room, courtesy of a two day madness known as the While You Were Out television show. They shook hands, Evan made his finishing speech of “look what happened While You Were Out!”, and off they went to the hotel for the night.

Quatre finally let his facial muscles relax. It was hard to be the lovably, sunny designer all the damn time. Quatre had been ready to hit that boorish, crude carpenter over the head with a chair that last show, but it was a classic Queen-Anne chintz with cherry wood arms, and no asshole jock-strap was worth destroying something that lovely. Unlocking his room with the plastic card, Quatre walked into his suite and tossed his things onto the front table. Utterly exhausted, Quatre began to strip out of his clothes piece by piece as he made his way towards the lavish bed. There were perks to being a TV design star--he got his own suite paid for by the studio. He knew that most of the traveling crew had to bunk in the two-to-a-room kind of boxes in a motel down the road while he had a room with satellite TV, three couches, a dinning area, and a king size bed with a gold-trimmed down comforter.
Quatre flopped backwards, narrowly missing hitting his head on the canopy brackets in his haste, onto the gigantic bed in a heap of half-dressed designer. Spreading his arms out, not even reaching the edges on either side, Quatre simply starred at the ceiling.
It was such a waste. He was all by himself. He would get into his pajama’s, order room service and eat it quietly by himself in front of the TV watching A Wedding Show and critique the bridal floral palette, then pick out his traveling clothes for the next day (they had another show in Illinois the day after), send his clothes to the hotel laundry, then go to sleep. He never touched anything other than the bed and the TV for goodness sakes! All the space was lost on him. And every time he found himself enshrined in some gigantic tastefully-decorated suite that would comfortable live four it only served to remind him just how small and alone he was.
Sniffling like the big baby he was, damn it, Quatre decided to get a tissue before he smeared his TV make-up onto the cream throw pillows, they were just too cute to mess up. Sliding bonelessly off the gigantic bed, Quatre moved across the yards of crimson carpeting into the bathroom.
Well, there was one thing he liked about being in a fancy hotel anyway, Quatre reminded himself as he stood in front of the wall mirror that took up everything above the long marble vanity counter which was outfitted with shining bras hardware and finished with tasteful studio lighting. Quatre felt better already, taking in the reflected image of the large whirlpool tub with complimentary bubble bath in five separate scents. Quatre turned and decided he would miss his shown tonight and take a late supper after nice long soak.
He was already half undressed anyway, so Quatre simply removed the last of his garments and turned on the faucet to fill the tub while he paid attention to other essential business. At the toilet, Quatre hummed absently to himself until he stopped speechless. Absolutely cowed, Quatre reached out a hesitant finger, then retracted in shock.
It was! Oh good god! The wall was done in a gorgeous cream-- no parchment, with grey dusted marbling effects and, goodness gracious, it was a paper!
Moving away from the toilet (which he never did use, actually) Quatre groped blindly for the phone he had seen on the wall near shower and immediately rang into the front desk.
“Hello. Hilton Concierge desk, how may I help you?” a friendly lady answered.
“I’m in the Crimson Suite, floor 2, and I must know where to find this lovely parchment wallpaper I’m looking at in my bathroom. It’s lovely.” Quatre replied, almost in awe of the makers of a paper so rich, yet subtle.
There was a moment’s pause on the other side of the phone before the woman came back, “I’ll patch you into the manager. Please hold.”
Sighing as the tacky music began, Quatre finished his business with the toilet, poured in the bubble-bath, and tested the water, all before he came to hear the voice of the manager. “Mr. Winner. You have a complaint about your bathroom wallpaper, Sir?”
Quatre sighed, and corrected the man, only to be asked to hold again as he tried to contact the hotel’s designer’s records. Quatre dipped one foot into the hot tub, then the other, and sat at the side, simply swishing his feet around and planning out his outfit for the next day. The manager came back on the line about five minutes later and Quatre agreed to wait until tomorrow, when the manager assured him the information would be with his morning breakfast.
Quatre hung up the phone and slipped into the bath, letting the floral scent sooth his frayed nerves. He always got so damn anxious when he had to work with Jason-- the carpenter never finished his work on time, they were always waiting on him, and he just...rubbed Quatre the wrong way. Others seemed to like him well enough, but Quatre couldn’t stand the carpenter. Letting his head fall back against the tub, Quatre just let his mind drift. They were headed to Illinois tomorrow, they had an outdoor space to transform, and Quatre was excited. He’d never done an outdoor-scape before and he just couldn’t wait to get in there.

Rolling his luggage along, Quatre made his way through the airport and into the first class cabin of the plane fairly easily. It was almost noon, and the stars got to fly while the rest of the crew (and the substantial amount of gear) had set out before dawn on the road. Even with an almost 6 hour difference in departure time, Quatre knew the stars would be set up in a hotel and meeting the homeowner before most of the crew even passed the state line.
Unfortunately, Quatre knew he was designing this space with Jason as his carpenter. It made him anxious, but at least Quatre had a great design to fall back upon to calm himself. This time, Jason would have very little to build; he just had a lot of ‘digging and rigging’, as they said, which would be done mostly with the extra crew with some shots of Jason for the ladies at home. But, that wouldn’t bring his spirits down today, nope, today was Planning Day 1 and he had such great ideas for the outdoor space he was practically drooling in anticipation.
This was his life.

DAY ONE --Morning
Quatre was under the tent set up on the road in front of the Chang’s house grabbing a coffee to amuse himself until he had to get to wardrobe. He was never this early, nor was he usually in the staff tent. But desperate times called for desperate measures.
He hadn’t been able to sleep much the night before; the Chang’s yard was on a slope. A big slope. They would have to build an entire deck to support Quatre’s outdoor dining area and that meant that they could barely begin the main center piece of the design until--and he shuddered to think it-- until Jason was finished building the deck. They would be able to do most of the planting and landscaping, but Quatre had not planned for that slope. But, as Evan said to the camera “Well, That’s While You Were Out, for you!”
Quatre toyed with his necklaces as he drowned his coffee in milk and began to hum as he rocked from foot to foot to sooth himself.
Another voice started to accompany his, deeper but strong. Quatre turned, almost spilling his coffee on his Dolce powder-blue buttondown and matching strappy camisole. The other just chuckled and continued to hum into the next verse. Quatre looked up, knowing a clothes-crisis was thankfully averted, and found a few other crew-members milling about. Quatre couldn’t say he really knew any of them. When on set he was often awfully busy, and the only two he knew were the over-friendly cameraman with the long braid and one of the drivers of the equipment truck, who was the cameraman’s boyfriend. Neither of them, though, were under the tent at 7 am today.
Quatre decided to try to find the source of his impromptu accompaniment and after surveying the faces of the three others milling about, whom were half asleep, through process of elimination he deemed it had been whomever was sitting behind the morning paper a few tables away from the buffet-style table Quatre was leaning against.
God, Quatre hated confrontation. Duo, the Cameraman, had come up to HIM, so he didn’t need to go through the awkward moment of approach. But Quatre had told himself over and over that he’d never make friends if he didn’t take the opportunities when they were presented. So, Quatre painted on his best smile and walked confidently over to the newspaper. “Great accompaniment. We should get together and make a band.” Quatre said merrily.
There was no response.
Then ever so slowly, the left corner of the paper rolled back to reveal one piercing green eye. Quatre smiled nervously, his gut twisting with the intensity of the look he was receiving. He couldn’t even decipher what it meant. Nothing was said.
“...Sorry to bother you...” Quatre stammered out and began to retreat hastily.
“What should we call ourselves?” A deep rumbling baritone asked with amusement.
Quatre turned, stunned, to see the rest of the newspaper brought down and then folded up, revealing the man behind it. Green eyes were framed by a chiseled face on an equally muscle-built frame, all complimented with a sweeping bang of deep roan hair, cut short at the back so that it fell to one side of the man’s face mysteriously. Quatre swallowed, but held his ground. Damn, he hated this sort of thing; walking up to new people for friendship purposes made him so self-conscious despite his fame. It was easy when he was on the show: he was the homeowner’s best friend for two days and then he never heard from them again. That was it. But when it came to people he hadn’t always known, it was like treading water in shark infested seas. He never knew when he’d get bitten.
The other man smirked at the silence, “Why don’t you sit down before you spill your coffee again?” he asked, seeing the blonde’s hands beginning to tremble. Dumbly, Quatre made his way to the table, and delicately placed himself in the chair, all the while staring at the other man as if he would bite. All in all, it was a rather odd moment.
“My name is Trowa, Trowa Barton. But I take it you thought I was someone else that you knew humming or something...you look like you swallowed a fly.”
”Perhaps I may die.” Quatre responded immediately, before blushing brightly, “Sorry, Mother Goose habit. I’m Quatre...Quatre Winner.”
Trowa rolled his eyes dramatically, “Well, I knew that. I have been working with this crew for almost a year and half now.”
Quatre blinked, surprised, “Do you work camera equipment?” Quatre asked, and then promptly slapped himself mentally for rudeness.
Thankfully Trowa simply chuckled, “Unfortunately, no. I got the hard job around here. I do all the grunt work and calculations the celebrity carpenters don’t do. I am the understudy carpenter, at your service.” Trowa said, extending a hand across the resin table. Quatre found himself returning the shake easily with a real smile.
“You work under both the carpenters on the show?” Quatre found himself asking with a gossip-hungry gleam, leaning back in his chair more comfortably and taking a sip of his coffee.
Trowa smirked, “I do. I don’t like Jason either, if that was what you were alluding too. Andrew treats me better-- he gives me my own projects and he gets his own stuff done.”
Mouth agape, Quatre stammered, “Am I THAT obvious?”
Trowa started to chuckle, “Not at all. Don’t worry. On-camera you two work fine together. But I know he picks on you off-camera all the time, and I can see you practically having anxiety attacks waiting for him to finish his work. You avoid the carpentry tent as much as possible when he is there, which is probably why you didn’t recognize me. I just put two and two together.”
Quatre threw a crushed napkin at the smart ass with a smile, “Know it all.”
The two sat in silence for a while, Trowa seeming to be scanning his paper and Quatre sipping on his too-hot beverage and playing with his necklace. Trowa had to admit, though, he was looking at Quatre. The blonde was definitely talented in design: he had put together a light blue silk shirt with a huge length of faux pearls which he wrapped tight once around his neck then let hang low, just short of his waste, and then completed the outfit with grey trousers-- all of which fit stunningly on the baby-blonde.
It was Trowa who broke the silence first, “So, I hear this is going to be very little carpentry. An easy build for me.”
Quatre looked at him surprised, “Didn’t you get the plans already? I sent them off yesterday evening. This space is going to need a lot of carpentry.” Quatre saw the roan-haired man lift a questioning brow, “We have to build an entire deck, which wasn’t part of the original plan. The yard slopes...”
Trowa groaned.
“Well, it’s won’t be so bad, with having to budget for more wood, I had to cut out a lot of the landscaping and the heat lamp, so there is much less digging and grunt work. But I got a wonderful idea from Mrs. Chang’s kitchen centerpiece-- the inside is done in a lovely Chinese motif, and it’s heavy on the rod iron-- and I’m planning on doing an incredible light fixture to make up for the lack of shrubbery. It’s going to be gorgeous.” Quatre raved.
Trowa leaned in with interest, “Really? We never get to find out what it’s all going to look like. We’re just given blueprints of this cabinet or that frame and sent on our way. But you’re planning light fixtures outdoors?”
Quatre shook his head in affirmative vigorously, “Oh yes. It’s a lantern theme. I’ve gotten ten glass lanterns and a box full of string lights. I want to do a four sided knot of string lights then a triangle apex to hold up the lantern.” The love for the design practically radiated off the blonde and when he was talking about his design, he seemed to loose all that self-consciousness he was filled with just five minutes previous. Trowa had to admit, he liked the real smile a lot more that the television smile that he just realized he had always seen on the celebrity designer. There was something more real about the boy sitting across from him jabbering about his lights...which seemed awfully important to him.
“Oh yes, there are going to tie the whole design together. They are absolutely integral.” Quatre responded to the question Trowa hadn’t noticed he had asked aloud, “and the string lights I bought can be timed as well as dimmed and brightened. It’ll be breathtaking with the soft wicker chairs. And I’m doing a knot...” before Trowa knew it, Quatre’s faux pears were twisted into the four-looped, three-tied, almost butterfly-looking backdrop for his lamps. Quatre was absurdly delighted to find an interested audience.
Soon, though, the director came bursting madly into the tent and swooped down upon the distracted blonde, whisking him off to the make-up trailer so fast Quatre only managed a hurried wave goodbye to his new friend.
Camera’s rolled and Evan began to explain the show-- 2 days, One room, and a $1,000 budget. It was the beginning of Day One and they had a lot of work to do. Quatre set out with his design plans, sicking Jason on the deck immediately, and then delegating the pruning, painting, and staining out to the rest of the crew.
This home owner, though, was fairly difficult to work with. He refused to sew, refused to paint, and downright walked away when asked how he felt about gardening. Mr. Wufei Chang was one of the most difficult homeowner’s yet, but Quatre was wiser and soon he had him painting the high outdoor wall on a ladder, since Wufei wouldn’t let some woman do such dangerous works. Quatre was a little disturbed to think Wufei was classifying him as a female...but at least Wufei was working!
By mid morning, Quatre was running madly to the local greenhouse because the trees he ordered were delayed, he was mixing paint like a madman to create the dusty stucco for the wall, vaulting over holes being dug and foundations being laid, and loving every minute of it. It was a mad dash, but there was nothing like finding that one piece you needed and coming back to see the progress. Although on Day One, it just seemed like more rubble and junk was accumulating across the once-sparse lawn.
By the time they broke for lunch, Quatre was already planning the next few hours in his head. Quatre saw Jason occupied at the doughnut table, flirting with one of the female stage hands, and counted his lucky stars. Quatre hurried towards the carpentry tent to survey the progression of the patio for himself. He had visited earlier with the cameras just to find Jason putting something through a buzz saw, trying to look burly and rugged, and when Quatre asked point-blank about the deck’s completion, Jason had said it was his number one priority; Not an hour later, Quatre saw him throwing a football to Evan down the street.
Seeing his chance now though, Quatre snuck out of the ‘Cast’ lunch trailer and around the Chang’s house to the carpentry tent set up on the road. Quatre walked in to find hundreds of rows of wood boards sitting in unorganized heaps of all different lengths and widths. He wasn’t even sure which were already cut to fit and which were supposed to go in the ground or above. Damn it. He learned nothing with his little escapade. He was going to have to take Jason’s word. He shuddered to think of the consequences.
“OI! Mr. ‘I’m so talented with the buzz saw’ is eating lunch, the coast is clear!” A very loud voice called. Quatre recognized Duo, his cameraman friend, immediately. A second later a pulsing vibration shook the ground. Loud and strong, a heavy beat strummed through the tent, ‘The Cult’ blearing it’s sensuously melodies over the cacophony of a buzz saw and drill.
“I’ve still got your FACE Painted on my Heart!” belted out to the vocals of a strong singer, not on the album. Quatre made his way through the maze of wood stacked higher than his height (probably why Duo hadn’t noticed him and called an all-clear for pumping up of the music) and winded around to find the epicenter at a worktable. Perched atop it was Duo, just rocking out to the beat with his hands swinging in the air-- but right beside him, bent to the task of guiding a piece of lumber through a table saw, belting out the tune in a sinfully good rendition, navy WYWO Crew T-shirt sweat-stuck to a sculpted chest, hips and shoulders swaying lightly to the beat, and gorgeous green eyes covered by a pair of plastic surfer-style safety-glasses, was Trowa.
Quatre just about fell to his knees in worship
Duo had to jump off the table as the board continued over his spot and Trowa had to stretch to keep it going. Twirling slowly with the song, Duo spotted Quatre, and with a wink, he continued to dance. A moment later, Trowa was finished with the one piece, and he pulled out a piece of sand paper and began to smooth the edges rigorously, while flicking his slim hips and rolling his body to the music, dancing as he worked the wood. It wasn’t until the song had long since ended, and another rock-violin song had taken its place that Trowa acknowledged him. “Are you going to stand there all day, or is there something I can help you with?” Trowa called over the loud beat.
“I wanted to find out how my deck was going, but I can’t tell!” Quatre shouted over the music.
Trowa nodded in time to the beat, “It’s got a long way, but it’ll get done. I’M working on it; Jason’s only doing the trimmings!” Trowa called back over the music. Quatre had the ludicrous idea that perhaps it was too loud, but a few minutes later he was shown why. Jason came back from lunch and with a heavy push sent Duo and the other crew out of the tent, effectively ending the party. Trowa slowly finished up the board, and then moved onto another. Trowa was taking up the far, far left work table where it was placed curved behind the big white plastic While You Were Out sign, while Jason took to the main table, where the camera’s always filmed, and blocked out the others.
“Did you want something, Miss. Decorator?” Jason asked snidely.
Quatre just glared with renewed dislike for the man who just kicked people out of his tent when they weren’t even in his way. Instead of asking nicely with his made for TV smile, Quatre found himself practically spitting venom at the muscle-bound jack ass, “Yeah. When is my deck going to be done? I can’t even begin to stain it or put up the furniture until it’s done. You told me you’d be half done by Noon. It doesn’t look like it to me?”
Jason, the blonde carpenter, sneered, “It’s my top priority.” He informed Quatre and went back to cleaning one of his tools.
Quatre nodded curtly and turned on his heels, anxious to have a minute left to grab lunch before he was back to the landscaping. He silently fumed, but was able to take it out on the soil as he dug support for the new trees.
The end of Day One rolled around as fast as it usually did, they were able to finish all but the last coat for the cream-stucco paint effect, their craft was done, the trees were all planted, and Jason had even sent in some supporting beams for the patio, so there was a skeleton of where it would go. They still had walkways, the second coat, all the staining of the deck wood, the staining of the dated fence, and Quatre’s glorious lights left to be put up. Today had been a good day, though, Quatre mused with a smile noticing that, if he listened hard enough and there was a moment of stillness between all the clamor of the build, he could just barely hear a hint of rock music drifting in from the carpentry tents.
Quatre tumbled into his hotel room exhausted again, pulling off his clothes bit by bit again until he was left in his trousers and his rope of pearls. This time, Quatre managed to climb onto the big king size bed (done in a classic blue this time), and flick the TV on. The ‘A Wedding Story’ theme began to play as Quatre began to survey the room service menu and ordered during the commercial. A turkey breast with mashed potatoes was sent up and was across his lap in time for the vows.
Then he went to sleep, all alone in a bed he could never find the edge of. Routine claimed its victim again.

Day Two
Quatre was up early again, finding himself so awfully excited he couldn’t sleep a minute longer. He attributed it all to finally being able to put up his light design; damn he was so proud of that, he had worked for hours perfecting the knotting strategy and exact length so that the strings would create a perfect arch that would last weathering. But, as Quatre found himself practically throwing his suitcase around to find something better to wear, Quatre had to admit that since his lights wouldn’t care what he wore, that he, maybe, was a little, only a bit, excited over, hopefully, seeing Trowa again. Maybe. Just a bit.
Quatre found himself pouring coffee for himself at 7am again in the Crew tent, trying to find the roan-haired newspaper reader without looking obvious about scanning every moving object within his vision.
“If you are trying to be sneaky looking for me, you’re failing spectacularly. Duo came over to the carpentry tent a minute ago and said there was a little lost designer in the crew tent looking forlornly for a friend. He assigned me the duty of letting you follow me home.” Trowa leant against the other side of the buffet table, smiling merrily and filling a styrofoam plate with doughnuts, “I was also told to bring a Honey Crueler, a Boston Cream, and a Lemon Filled back with me as bait.”
Quatre turned to see Trowa smiling roguishly at him, “Personally, I think Duo was trying a dramatic way to ask for food. That man is like a garbage disposal.”
Quatre chuckled and helped Trowa find the hiding Boston Cream before following him back to the carpentry tent, where it seemed there was quite the gathering. Not just Duo, Heero, and Trowa were there, but it seemed almost the entire population of the crew was lounging around Trowa’s workbench. A few of the people Quatre recognized from working with them, but most he didn’t know at all. But they all seemed to know him, and waved kindly. Trowa weaved through the loose crowd and leaned against the worktable, offering the one stool to Quatre. It was a merry bunch, everyone was lively, especially Duo, who kept teasing Heero until the stoic man threatened to beat him with the chair Quatre was sitting on.
“Your deck skeleton is completely finished, the foundation is in and we just have to secure the floor boards to it. All we are waiting for today is the railings and detailing you wanted, which unfortunately, is all Jason’s job.” Trowa said, biting into his Lemon Filled doughnut. Then he got to watch as Quatre practically lit up like a firework.
“Oh that’s WONDERFUL! Thank you so much, Trowa! I’m so happy to know the base will be finished. I can start the staining as soon as it’s together.” Quatre gushed, his genuine smile shining.
Trowa, though, lifted a skeptical brow, “But Quatre, I have yet to see those raved-about lights go up. Should I expect them finished ever?” Trowa teased.
Quatre simply smiled, “I’m beginning them the moment the day starts. I got the extra large ladder and everything. It will probably take me a good few hours to hook them all up, knot them, and hang all ten lanterns, but it’ll be done before noon!” Quatre said definitively.
Duo had been listening over Quatre’s shoulders and quirked a brow, “Don’t get all hot over some lights, dude.”
Quatre flushed in embarrassment, and stared down at his pointed zip-up boots with the cross-stitched edging. But Trowa came to his rescue, “Duo! Designing is his thing, so what if he gets excited about it? You have to see the rig he’s got set up for these things, he showed me yesterday, and I think it’ll look great. To bad he doesn’t have those pearls on today, or he could show you. But he looks great in the Victorian look, too.” Quatre fingered the cameo chocker he wore today with a slight smile. His look had aged from Elizabethan pearls to Victorian chokers in one day, and he was ludicrously delighted that Trowa had noticed.
Duo rolled his eyes, “That’s one of those antique things you love so much, Trowa, isn’t it?”
Trowa lifted a brow, “I believe that one is probably new, but it is designed after the traditional silhouette bust found in later Victorian jewelry.”
“You enjoy Antiques, Trowa?” Quatre asked with a delighted smile.
“By brother can find a Michelangelo at a garage sale in Oklahoma.” Heero stated, “Our grandmother loved antiques, and she used to pull us along every damn weekend. For some strange reason I have yet to comprehend, Trowa came to enjoy it.”
“Shut up, Heero. You collect guns. I collect pieces of functional history. Who’s the more evolved?” Trowa flung back with practiced ease.
Heero snorted, “Well, when a burglar breaks in, you can take one of your ‘historically functional’ chairs and break it over his rock-hard skull. I’d rather a bullet, thanks.”
“You always were the more violent of the two of us.” Trowa stated calmly.
Heero grunted, “Yeah. That’s why mom refuses to believe I’m engaged to Duo, but didn’t bat a lash when you came out of the closet.”
A wood chip was flung into Heero’s hair while Trowa oh-so-innocently whistled.
Quatre was still laughing when he was, again, lassoed into the make-up trailer by the director.

DAY TWO-- On set
The day was going quite well. True to his word, the foundation was in and the deck skeleton was up within the hour, just as Trowa had promised. Mr. Chang was even proving to be rather happy doing manual labor, and was sent to place the rocks for the pathway. Evan was working on staining and Leslie (the other cast member) was painting the wicker outdoor set by the carpentry tent. Quatre was anxious to get to his lights, so he set up the ladder against the left edge of the two-story roof.
The ladder leant on the roof edge, its supports stuck firmly into the grassy ground which would soon be covered by the patio, so he had to work quickly so as not to encumber the progress of the deck. Quatre stood almost at the top, knotting the first of his masterpieces then twisting in the triangle apex, and hanging the electric lantern before nailing in the supports to keep it in place. It took him almost twenty minutes to knot and secure the first one, but seeing his idea come to fruition was well worth the time.
The cameras were rolling on the building of the deck below him, Jason making his appearance carrying loads of sanded floor boards that Quatre now knew were not even cut by him, and making a show of laying a few down and putting hammer to nail for the shot. Quatre could even see Trowa working in the tent from his elevation, and watched the roan-haired man take a load of lumber onto his shoulders and begin towards the yard. Trowa spotted Quatre perched atop the ladder and smiled as he carried his load towards the yard. Quatre waved to him, but had to turn back to his task when Trowa came too close for him to see from his angle.
The flooring was starting to get closer to his ladder, but Quatre wasn’t worried yet. It only took him 15 minutes to get the second light tied off. Quatre measured his distances, and placed the lantern so that the string lights fell into the perfect dip above the yard and began to hammer in the supporting nails, the sound of his own hammer deafening him.
Jason lugged more planks over than he wished to nail down, so he hefted the rest of his load to lean against a stack of peat moss pilled inside the deck structure and promptly left to sand more of the railing beams.
Trowa had already placed his load of lumber within easier access for the finishers, and was turning to leave when he heard the terrified scream.
The lumber leaning against the peat moss slid off the side, the 60-some-pounds of wood thumped against the bottom of the ladder. Swaying backwards, one hand holding up his light display and the other hammering, Quatre let go of his precious lights as the ladder resonated with the blunt force.
Before he even had time to drop the hammer, Quatre was arching off the ladder and free-falling towards the foundation speckled ground.
There were cameras and people surrounding him seconds later, catching every second of his agony. He only narrowly missed the meter high foundation spike. He was lucky to have not been skewered alive, but pain was ripping through his entire body. Quatre rolled off his arm, cradling it to his chest as the camera’s filmed on.
“Quatre!” He heard yelled from the chaos, and there was Trowa, kneeling in front of him and trying to hold Quatre still so he could get a look at his arm. People swooped in from all sides; Evan, the cameras, and anyone nearby surrounded him.
Quatre heard someone determine he needed to be sent to the hospital. But he couldn’t! He had to be there, he had to finish his lights. If he lost all that time there was no way he could finish!
“I’m fine.” He lied through his teeth, “It’s just bruised. I’ll be okay! I have to finish.” Quatre rolled, and found Trowa’s shoulder to try and prop himself into a standing position, but his arm screamed in pain at even the smallest movement.
There were four others pulling at him to get him up and even more herding him towards one of the SUVs on the road. Quatre didn’t know any of the faces except Trowa’s, and he reached out with his good hand and grasped at Trowa’s T-shirt for an anchor. But despite the pain from his arm, Quatre felt his heart breaking, knowing he couldn’t finish his design, it would be nothing without the centerpiece lights! And since they weren’t on the blueprints, no one else could finish them because no one else knew how to knot--
Quatre yanked Trowa’s T-shirt, hurdling the carpenter towards him desperately, “Trowa! Please. Finish my lights! Please! No one else knows how! Please!” Quatre begged through sobs of pain. Quatre was manhandled into the SUV while Heero climbed in the driver’s side and burnt rubber out of the driveway.
With a few good shots of the retreating SUV, the camera’s dispersed, and the road was abandoned, except for Trowa, who stood looking stupidly where the car had been.
Evan was in front of Duo’s camera giving a summary of the situation to be cut in to the shots of Quatre falling. Someone from the crew had gone in and removed the ladder and the cacophony of building and planting and filming resumed around the Chang house. Trowa, after someone had bumped his shoulder accidentally, found himself wandering back to his work bench to finish sanding the detailing for the deck-- his spot in the perfect view of the long string of lights hanging broken and limp from the second knotted lantern.

“Please, just fix me quickly and send me back!” Quatre begged the doctor looking at his arm. The man lifted a brow, and just sent him for X-Rays. The only good thing about the whole ordeal was that Quatre had never been sped through an emergency room so quickly before. But even with one of the PR men standing with him and despite the menacing phone calls from the producer, Quatre was still stuck waiting for his X-rays to develop in the waiting room for a long, long, LONG time wishing that Heero had stayed after dropping him off so he’d at least have someone to talk to.

“Evan?” Trowa beckoned the host as he walked by his table on his way to check up on Leslie’s chair painting. The man locked eyes with the carpenter and stopped at his workbench, even giving him a hand hefting the next slab onto the table.
“It’s been about an hour since Quatre left, and, uh, isn’t someone going to get to work on those lights? They’re still hanging there, and I know it was taking him about 20 minutes per knot. They aren’t going to be finished if someone doesn’t get to them soon.” Trowa tried to seem nonchalant about it. He had his own workload, but the guilt about ignoring Quatre’s pleading eyes was really starting to bother him.
“Yeah. We’re scrapping them. The only thing we have on the plans is just hanging lanterns, not those string lights, and were already one crew man down. It’s not a bog deal of we don’t finish them.” Evan replied lightly.
Trowa was speechless, just about putting his fingers through the saw in his shock.
Trowa turned the saw off to avert further injury, “You can’t do that. He- he’d be crushed. Quatre was really excited about those lights. You can’t just take them down, it’d kill him when he got back.” Trowa told the host.
Evan lifted a brow, “Since when did you even know what was being done?”
Trowa’s eyes narrowed, ready for a fight. He and Even had always been on good terms since Evan had come to the show. Evan understood the amount of work being done behind the scenes and had always respected the backstage crew, so he was well liked by them all. But he was known for being very stubborn at times, despite his great leadership skills. “I was talking with Quatre yesterday morning, and he raved about his lights, his precious, integral, masterpiece lights for almost an hour. He didn’t want to go to the hospital because he couldn’t finish his lights. He begged me to make sure they got done. He would be crushed if they were just scrapped. Just get someone up there to finish them, okay?”
Evan smiled indulgently, “Sorry, Trowa. But when things happen we can’t all just bend to the whimsy of one of our designers. We just don’t have the people, Dude.” He explained again and left the table to rejoin the cameras over by Leslie’s spray painting fun after Trowa turned his saw back on with a frustrated curse and bent to finishing the last of the planks for the deck.

DAY TWO-- LUNCH
Trowa stayed on set to finish setting down the boards after most of the crew had gone for lunch. They were only allotted some half hour and most did not dawdle. Trowa, though, was working to finish the top of the deck. He had only three boards left to secure. And then he would probably loose his job.
Those string lights had been swaying in the wind for a while now and Trowa decided to do something about it. With the last nail securing the boards to the foundation, Trowa now had a stable surface to plant the ladder on. He hefted the giant thing up onto the deck and positioned it in place, this time securing the bottom with a few bricks so it wouldn’t move either way. With his tools around his waist and his mind set, Trowa began to climb just as the first few crewmen began to filter back into the yard. He was at the top for almost ten minutes, the string lights in hand and his fingers working, trying to mimic the twists Quatre had shown him with his pearls yesterday morning, before someone finally caught on.
“What are you doing up there, Barton? Get off the set, we’re filming!” Jason hollered, bringing everyone’s attention to the understudy carpenter working aloft.
Trowa took a deep breath and continued tugging and threading the string lights into what appeared to be a tattered mess. But Trowa had a smile upon his face and in front of everyone he gave both sides of the string lights a good pull and the center tightened to create a perfect replica of Quatre’s knot. Trowa measured the distance of the arch, and even though he had a few meters more space, Trowa decided that the victory was in making the right knot. He undid it quickly and, letting more of the string lights go slack, began again, creating the third knot in the time it took Jason to raise hell with the Director and get all the management on the set.
“Mr. Barton. Get down from there!” the Director shouted after a few select curses.
Trowa nailed the supports in and hung the knot, spaced correctly, and in a perfect replica of Quatre’s knot. “I’m sorry, Sir. But Quatre asked me directly to hang these lights for him. It meant a lot to him that they get done, and he begged me to finish before he went to the hospital. I tried to ask, but you were trashing them without a thought.” Trowa hollered down. Duo was filming, although the director gave explicit instructions for the cameramen to ignore Trowa’s little mutiny. It would look bad if the people at home got to see the extras working behind the stars without credit.
“Get down now!” The director yelled again, “They are just stupid lights!”
“Not to Quatre.” Trowa answered fiercely, “I’m sorry, Sir, But I’m not leaving them for your team to tear down. Quatre broke his arm, and even if he did get back with enough time, he wouldn’t be able to finish. I’m afraid you’ll just have to film around me.”
“This is ludicrous.” The grey-haired director said, looking around for an idea. He spotted Duo filming. “Turn that off.”
“Sorry, Sir.” Duo said swinging the camera to take in the Director, catching Trowa’s mutinous spirit. He was sick of working like a dog without respect. “I’m afraid my camera just won’t shut off. Can’t stop it. Figured I might as well catch the interesting stuff!” Duo retorted cheekily.
Jason began towards the bottom of Trowa’s ladder purposefully and Trowa feared that he would have an excuse for not finishing the lights because he would be lying in a hospital bed beside Quatre.
But before he had time to recite the first line of prayers he saw Heero taking a stance right beneath the ladder, his arms crossed and legs apart sturdily. More of the crew came out from around the yard to flank him at the bottom, or jump on with Duo cheering while filming it all and dodging the director who was trying to forcefully cap his shoulder-held camera.
As the ruckus escalated out back, the black While You Were Out SUV pulled up out front and Quatre stepped into the house. He was, thankfully, not too stoned on medication to miss the arguing and hooplah out back. Quatre, not ready to face it just yet, instead took to the master stairs, weaving his way around stationary cameras to come out in the second floor study, where the large bay window was open to the outside and the voices came in the clearest. What he didn’t realize was that it was so loud from there because directly outside the window was Trowa’s shoulders and the lights he was fighting for.
Quatre sucked in a breath for courage, then popped his head out the second story window, “WHAT’S GOING ON!” Quatre bellowed, nearly shocking Trowa off the ladder, but effectively shutting everyone up below. Nobody wanted to get in the way of an angry designer in pain.
Trowa took a seat on the ladder rung and came face to face with the blonde designer, “Hey. How’s that arm doing?” Trowa asked with concern. Quatre smiled and lightly laid his hand on Trowa’s arm, reassuring him without words. Using Trowa’s ample bicep as leverage, Quatre leaned further out the window and took stock of the mess below.
“Quatre?” Evan called up, “We were just discussing your lights, and...”
Quatre used his pause for breath to take stalk of Trowa’s handiwork. “They’re WONDERFUL! Oh, thank you Trowa! I would’ve been so upset if they had ditched them! Thank you so much!” Quatre cried, practically vaulting out of the house in order to hug the apprentice carpenter. Trowa had to ease him back onto the firm floor of the house carefully before he could let him go.
Quatre looked down, his smile shining like a 100 watt bulb, “Thank you so much for letting him finish my lights!” Quatre hollered down to the director, “They meant a lot to me to get done. Thank you, everyone!”
The heartfelt declaration of thanks seemed to cow even the loudest naysayer (the director) into submission. Quatre jogged back down the stairs and swung out to meet the crew downstairs and get a ground-view of his beloved lights. They looked even better than he thought (and the lovely angle of Trowa’s ass next to them only added to the design). Crisis averted, Quatre began to take stock of what had been done in his absence and began to one-handedly plant where it was needed most.
The last light went up. Trowa’s nail gun shot the lights into place, and then he added two more to the end to secure the whole thing. Giving the gun a western-style barrel blow, Trowa swung it around his trigger finger and holstered it into his tool belt. After he climbed down the cursed ladder of doom, he prepared to bleed back into the woodwork behind the scenes again. There was only another hour until the reveal, and Trowa knew Jason had left the workshop in a mess. Truth be told, Trowa was a little suspicious of what shape he would find the carpentry tent in, since there was STILL no fencing or stairs on the deck.
Quatre was perched dejectedly on the deck, his legs swinging into the gaping hole where the stairs should be. Trowa leapt down easily, it was only about two feet off the ground, and took a patch of deck beside him. “Don’t freak out yet. There’s still an hour. Jason will get the finishing done on time.” Trowa said with an amiable shoulder push.
Quatre nodded and jumped to his feet, “You’re right. We’re just about done, but I’m not being very productive moping around here, am I? I should go work on the finishing details and just...let the deck come together...” Quatre said, trying to look at the bright side and let his anxiety go with a deep cleansing breath.
His breaths were working, too, until he turned towards the path and saw Jason, who was supposed to be diligently enclosed in the carpentry tent finishing the railing, dropping a sapling into a hole and beginning to burry it. Quatre’s calming breathing turned to anxious hyperventilation in a heartbeat. Quatre took off in the direction of his attention deficit Carpenter and gave him an angry tap to the shoulder. There were three cameras near by, eager to catch the fireworks.
“There are no stairs on that deck! Why are you planting! The garden isn’t even your job; It’s mine and Wufei’s! The deck had to be finished. People walk on that, children play on that, one less tree won’t matter!”
Jason sucked in a breath and raised himself from his crouch. He towered above Quatre by almost a foot, and when he turned to face him, his chest was straight in Quatre’s face. “The stairs are being finished, but I am not doing the railing. Your stupid little lights were obviously more important. You took away my help, so it isn’t going to get done. Now get out of my face, Winner!” Jason bellowed, his temper rising.
Quatre was not afraid. He was finished with this crap, it was enough, (or it was the pain medication) and he wasn’t going to stand down this time. “Damn it, Jason. You had all afternoon to do stairs and a railing! You are supposed to be the expert carpenter on this show, and you NEVER get your work done! This deck should’ve been finished by the end of Day One! It’s an hour to the reveal, and it is STILL not finished!”
Jason was ready to clock the pansy-assed blonde, but his way was blocked when Trowa took up stance right behind the designer and glared.
“I finished the entire deck before I even touched those lights, don’t you dare blame me for your work not being complete. From the beginning your sole duty was the finishing. If you couldn’t finish the damn railing, then it’s no one’s fault but your own, Jason.” Trowa seethed with a frosty bite.
Jason tightened his fist, “You, Barton, have crossed the line. You are MY assistant, and I don’t take orders from you. I want you out of my tent.”
Trowa’s eyes narrowed and he addressed Quatre, turning his back on Jason, “There is an hour left until the reveal. I’ll finish that railing. And you can trust my word.” Trowa snarled before walking purposely towards the carpentry tent. Jason fumed and turned on his heel, striding towards the executive trailer. Quatre rolled his eyes and moved off to supervise the non-testosterone fueled gardening, finishing the covering of the poor defenseless tree Jason had brought into the whole mess.

The truck had been moved out, the yard was perfectly finished and Quatre, Evan, Jason, and Leslie waited outside with baited breath for Wufei to lead his wife into the completed back yard. She was almost an hour overdue, but her car had just been sighted turning the corner and was now pulling into the driveway, the cameras hidden in shrubbery catching her every move.
The patio doors opened and Marian Chang emerged, accompanied with a round of clapping and her husband urging the shocked woman onward with a grin.
“Hi! I’m Evan Farmer, the host of While You Were Out, and while you were gone on your two day spa trip, your husband had us come in and redo your backyard. This is designer Quatre Winner,” Evan introduced and Quatre shook the surprised woman’s hand with his TV smile. Evan introduced Jason and Leslie, both shaking her hand too, then went on to explain the space, pointing out the deck, the pond and swing, and of course, Quatre’s lamp-lit deck nook, complete with a built-in bar.
Marian quickly regained her wits and admired the two-seater swing beside the pond while Evan pointed out the lamp craft Wufei had made and then walked them over to the deck.
Wufei leaned against the completed railings and waited for Even to finish regaling his wife before stealing the conversation, “I thank these people tremendously for what they have done, but” and Wufei’s eyes narrowed dangerously, “a great injustice was done. I would like to thank the other Carpenter for all his work, because it was Mr. Barton who really did the most work here.”
Wufei moved off the deck to the astonishment of all; the cameras, the confused cast, and his wife following close behind. Weaving out onto the side street beside his house, Wufei walked them all to a little crew tent set up, crammed full of camera, lighting, and grunt-work crew. Beer in hand, the crew’s jaws dropped when the group descended into the tent, the home owner at the front.
“I wish to thank Mr. Barton.” Wufei announced. The crew glared.
Quatre broke away from the pack and walked a few steps in, “Trowa? C’mon out!” He surveyed the room, looking for the tall man, but found piercing blue eyes starring. “Heero! Trowa didn’t leave already, did he? I didn’t get a chance to invite him for dinner as a thank you.”
Heero glared past Quatre’s shoulder, “Trowa was escorted off the premises an hour ago.” Heero stated briskly. “Duo went to the police station to bail him out.”
“What! Why, Heero?” Quatre asked, aghast.
It was Jason who answered, the Director standing behind him, “Mr. Barton refused to leave the premises after his employment was terminated and we had to call the police in to remove him.”
“He finished his job.” Heero spat superiorly.
Wufei Chang took his wife’s hand, and gave Evan a brisk bow, “We thank you for what you and your team did to our house.” And then they both left, Wufei taking a moment to glare in indignation behind him as he and his wife disappeared into their house. The crew tent dissolved quietly around them, until only the director and Quatre stood underneath. Then the Director urged Quatre into the cab he had called for him.
Moving robotically into his room, dropping his things to the floor and remembering to remove his shoes before he climbed on to the king sized bed, Quatre absently flicked on the television and found himself staring at the classic blue bedspread with distaste.
The whole room was disgusting, from its sconce lighting and mahogany wainscoting; the entire room was an eyesore that was blurring in front of his vision. It was just a stupid, frivolous, egotistical design just like his which had gotten a person fired; his life forced to start over again. His show began to play, the tune drifting over and Quatre turned to see a clip of the bridesmaid dresses. He hated them, and he hated his Goddamn string lights too.
Sitting quietly in his big empty suite, Quatre rolled to his side and cried, his TV mascara running onto the cream sheets in little smudges of black as he sobbed through the night...
End Part One

Notes:Please leave a message telling me how you like it! This is my little foyer back into fanfiction and I hope you all like it! And Please, did you mostly understand most fo the design-language, or is it far to much? Drop me a line!