Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ While You Were Out ❯ Part Two ( Chapter 2 )

While You Were Out

By: Dentelle_Noir

 

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 Two

 

 

About a MONTH later

 

 

The design director's office wasn't really as nice as Quatre thought it should've been-- the woman being the head of all the designers for While You Were Out and all. He supposed it all fit together, but he couldn't really see it. He was on set in Arizona, which also happened to be where the design head's summer home was, and Quatre was now sitting inside her home-office getting his formal review.

 

“Quatre,” she said after perusing the tape and boards of his last few rooms, “Your designs over the past month have been...dull. Your original portfolio and the rooms you have done for us before were quite to our taste, but since the...incident...during the Chang make-over, your work has...” she drifted off as if looking for the correct adjective, “It's stunk. Quatre, you have this current project to finish, and then you are scheduled to design in Tulsan, where the season will finish. Your contract renewal will be looked at after the month break.”

”Yes ma'am.” Quatre nodded gently, he knew since the letter came that he would be booted off the show; he just didn't care anymore. Despite her disappointment in him, he was pleasantly dismissed shortly after; she was, after all, a nice lady at heart.

 

Quatre was back on location not an hour after he had left it, and it all seemed the same, really. The design was in bold reds and with elegant gold touches. It was a lovely, livable room, with accents of a stylised sun on the furniture and the bed flowing with gold taffeta pillows. But Quatre wasn't enthusiastic about it. He never got enthusiastic about a project since...

 

Quatre gently laced his fingers in the long string of pearls he wore almost religiously now. They had become his trademark, Evan had commented to him once. Quatre wore them to keep his fingers occupied so that he wouldn't get too involved in something like stupid lights ever again and cost someone their lively-hood.

 

“Hey, Quatre?” Someone asked from behind him. Painting on his TV smile, Quatre turned politely to spot one of the crew members behind him, a black While You Were Out CREW T-shirt tightly clung to her ample bosoms. Quatre didn't recognize her face, but that really didn't surprise him. “Hey, I heard you were looking for a light fixture better than the simple overhead lamps you have.”

 

Quatre's interest jumped a bit, although it barely made it over a two-foot hurdle now-a-days, even while shoe shopping.

 

“I know about a great antique shop, just a twenty minute drive away in the next town. They have a really great collection of furniture-- not like a lot of shops with only clothes and trinkets. I thought you'd want to know,” She said innocently, handing him a business card with the address to `Antique Artistry' and a number.

 

Quatre shrugged and considered the card. He took stalk of the room: the wet paint glistening, the furniture staining well under control, and Jason and his new assistant carpenter (this noisy brute of an assistant Jason had played football with in College) were taking the morning to do one ottoman. While there were tons Quatre could've been doing, he wasn't doing it, so he decided to bring a camera crew and Evan on the road to check out the antique shop for a mahogany light fixture.

 

BREAK

 

Evan pulled the van through intricate rod iron driveway gates and parked. The PR guy had called ahead and got the proprietor to agree to their filming in the store, and so they set out with one shoulder held camera and two WYWO cast. Quatre gave his TV smile and mock-ran into the shop for the cameraman, then did it twice more so he got different angles.

 

Finally, they made it into the store. It was a two-story converted farm house, with a classic country porch and even a selection of rocking chairs outside to complete the bumpkin look. Moving inside, though, Quatre found the store much more contemporary than the outside. The place, while having a good amount of country pieces at low prices, also carried a virtual goldmine of old English re-finished pieces from all different time periods.

 

In short, it was a place Quatre could've got excited about--If he let himself even care these days.

 

Even quickly singled out a piece for the room with an antique lamp and shade, and Quatre was left to wander alone. He moved through the place, eyeing several pieces but not finding that spark of design that always used to lead him. The woman who had been standing behind the counter smiled brightly and tried to point him to several pieces. She was young with bright red hair and spangled earrings, but Quatre was simply smiling with her out of manners. He just...wasn't interested.

 

“Quatre, We got the lamp for $40, when you're ready we can get back to the set.” Evan called out and hefted the big wooden thing off the front register desk, a mischievous smile on his lips.

 

Quatre froze, staring at the man leaning casually behind the register now and watching him with an amused glint. Evan had herded the cameras out of the shop once he had revealed those piercing green eyes and sweep of roan hair. Quatre was left utterly speechless, his eyes beginning to mist.

 

“Maybe you'd be interested in some of our jewelry? We have some great pieces from all different eras.” Trowa said, his voice as musical and lively as it was a month ago. He pushed off from the counter and turned, perusing a wall filled with hanging necklaces and trinkets.

 

Quatre took a step closer, then another until he was at the desk, almost within touching distance of the man whose life he thought he ruined. “Trowa?”

 

Trowa turned around with a smile, holding a few necklaces in his hands and holding them up next to Quatre's face. He didn't seem to like what he had picked out, and strode towards the front window, crawling catlike over the backdrop and fetching something from the window display.

 

It was a locket, silver and square instead of the traditional circle, on a flat-linked chain of matching tarnished silver. The piece was not gleaming; it looked well loved and it was being put around Quatre's neck by Trowa. Once the weight settled on his throat Quatre immediately touched it, loving the feel of the intricate carving on the front immediately. “Trowa? You-- you work here? It's lovely.” Quatre finally stammered out something to the man, his fingers not leaving the necklace as his eyes took in the antique shop with a renewed lust for discovering its treasures.

 

“I suppose I work here, in a manner of speaking. This is my store, I own it, my sister and I work it, I find the pieces and fix some up. Yep, this store's my baby. I always felt bad going all around the country on the show when my store was waiting for me back home. But I did find some great pieces while I was traveling.” Trowa said, placing himself on the store-side of the register deck so Quatre could get a good look of him.

 

“How... How much do I owe you for the locket?” Quatre asked, his voice cracking slightly as he felt his heart beat like a hummingbird's.

 

Trowa pursed his lip and placed his hand on his chin, mocking deep thought, “Hm. That was a very valuable piece. It took a lot for me to procure it...Steep price... But for you,” Trowa said, smiling as he looked Quatre over, “For you, I'd let it go for coffee.”

 

“How about it, there's a place just down the road that has the best biscotti?” Trowa was flirting with him as if he had no hard feelings whatsoever.

 

Quatre's face blushed, “Oh YES!” he gushed, practically falling all over himself. But he caught himself in time, “oh, No. We're on set...I'm doing a renascence bedroom in the city, I'm already taking set time...”

 

Trowa's face faulted with the mention of the show, but smiled almost sardonically. “I understand. You go do what you love.” Trowa said with a tone of graceful defeat.

 

“NO! No, Trowa, Please! I want to, I desperately want to. I just can't right now, Can I take a rain check? Can I up the price to a dinner instead?” Quatre begged, Trowa wasn't exactly swayed, so Quatre threw him a pleading smile.

 

Quatre always got his way with that smile, and today wasn't any different. Trowa caved within moments, and sent Quatre on his way with a playful push before Evan marched back into his store to collect the derelict designer.

 

The ride back to the set was filled with chit chat from the cameramen and Quatre smiling gently into the rearview mirror. Quatre touched the locket once more, opening up his shirt another button to show his new jewelry off. For once not caring, he shed his pearls for the first time in almost a month.

 

Once they got on-set, the new lamp in hand, Quatre took a good look around and pulled out his dusty notebook--the room needed some spice, and he knew exactly how to do it.

 

Before the end of Day One he had added a stencil effect, changed the craft, and even moved some of the furniture. He was excited to finish the bedroom, and it would be beautiful.

 

BREAK

 

The Antique store sign was flipped to `close', and Trowa found himself pacing. He was early, he knew. He remembered working on that show; the crazy hours, the unknown timing, and Trowa knew how much work there was for the designer. But that didn't mean that he wasn't anxious. After a half hour of wearing thin his floor, Trowa decided to do something constructive with his energy and went up the stairs with his sander in hand and began to work off the tacky yellow paint someone over that last hundred years had shellacked onto his new pet project.

 

BREAK

 

The reveal went off without a hitch, the homeowner was delighted with his bedroom, and Quatre had even gotten a phone call from the design head that had just about fired him to congratulate him. He promptly said thanks and hung up. Putting petal to metal in one of the company cars, Quatre flew onto the highway and did the 20 minute trip in 15.

 

This time, Quatre noticed the detailing on the old iron driveway gate and marveled at the old-style masonry of the stone wall around the farmhouse, and he noticed the delicately planted flowers in front, and the perfectly balanced window display made with the perfect mix of tradition and contemporary styles to foreshadow what Quatre now knew was inside. He berated himself for not noticing the details earlier.

 

The sign said Closed, but the door was open to the night air and Quatre could clearly hear the scream of a sander underneath the heavy rock'n'roll beat that heralded Trowa's presence.

 

The familiarity of the sounds made Quatre feel at home; the smells and sights of the shop were more welcoming to him than his New York Loft ever had been (even after he bought his cats Snowball and Santa the year before just to feel loved). Quatre followed the driving base to find it descending from the open loft above. He could see the upstairs from the atrium-style entrance, but he couldn't see Trowa.

 

“TROWA?” Quatre bellowed as loud as he could, a smile lighting his face as he found an excuse to scream his lungs out. It was freeing in a way, being able to just yell. “TROOOOOWA!!” Quatre screamed.

 

The sander scream stopped and Trowa's head and shoulders came into view, “STELLA!” he bellowed down with a brilliant smile.

 

“What about... Romeo, Romeo?” Quatre shot back.

 

“I enjoyed Streetcar Named Desire better. Marlon Brando is my role model.” Trowa hollered back. “I'll be down in a sec!”

 

Quatre waved and then started to hunt through the store with a renewed interest. There were so many lovely pieces, he was getting inspired at every turn, and before he even realized Trowa was downstairs, Quatre had his notebook flipped open and was drawing and writing up plans and themes.

 

Turning to see Trowa right behind him, Quatre smiled sheepishly, “Sorry, just I haven't been very...inspired lately and you have so many--is that a genuine Queen-Anne tea table, with button feet? The restoration is beautiful.” Quatre pounced on the table, running his fingers over the clean, but well worn wood with relish.

 

Trowa moved up behind Quatre and joined the pale fingers in running across the top, “Mmhm. Genuine 17 hundreds piece. I picked it up in Georgia a few months back from an old shop going out of business. It was being used to prop up the water cooler! I worked for weeks trying to remove the water stains, but I guess I was successful if you are impressed.”

 

Quatre turned his bright blue eyes onto Trowa in awe, “You restore them?”

 

Trowa nodded humbly, “Yeah. It's something to do. I am a carpenter, remember; I know how to work wood and fix it up. Some of these pieces I've had to bridge and reinforce, and some pieces I had to completely rebuild. But I enjoy it. It keeps me busy.”

“Is that what you doing up there when I came in?” Quatre asked with interest. Trowa started towards the stairs behind the register and motioned for Quatre to follow him. They were ancient stairs, really, with a distinctive creak and well-wore groves in the center that would make anyone nervous if they didn't know the owner was a carpenter as talented and persistent as Trowa was.

 

They emerged in an open loft, the floor layered with dust from the sanding and work. There was a mechanic-style tool box on wheels pulled up beside a propped-up end table, one leg missing from the cherry-wood piece. But scattered all around the little loft was piece after piece of furniture, waiting for Trowa to get to it and repair their splinters and boo-boos. Quatre began to take a deeper look at each, wondering how much Trowa had already worked to build them up to where they were, because it was obvious some had already been fixed up quite a bit.

 

Quatre looked up to ask Trowa a question, but couldn't seem to find him. He just chuckled, figuring Trowa had probably told him he'd be right back, and Quatre had been too engrossed in admiring the work to hear it. He did that a lot.

 

Moving closer to the back of the loft, Quatre noticed that the most-finished pieces seemed to be nearer to the back. Moving over to check out a grandfather clock with the actual mechanism gutted beside it, Quatre spied a wardrobe through the door. It was done in a lovely cherry-wood finish complete with classic Victorian hardware that had Quatre drooling to get a better look.

 

Quatre was already formulating designs for its use before he even got in front of it. It was much taller than Quatre was, and the hardware was an antique brass with real human-worn groves. Quatre reverently stroked its door, and then gave the cool brass handle a pull. It opened easily and no sawdust cascaded down atop his head this time.

 

Then Quatre saw why.

 

The antique wardrobe was filled with shirts and coats, and pants hung neatly from the metal wrung or were tossed haphazardly in the hamper at the bottom. With a drastic blush Quatre closed the doors as quickly as he possible could. His whole face was as red as the wardrobe! Quatre could now say with certainty that Trowa was a briefs man.

 

Turning with dread, Quatre took the moment he should've taken before barging in and surveyed around him. Yep. There was a dresser to the side, a TV, and a pair of socks on the floor. There was a wooden sleigh bed (which was actually made), the right side of the hunter green covers housing a stack of carpentry and sports magazines with a remote control sitting harmlessly on top of the pile. Yep. Quatre had walked himself right into Trowa's bedroom.

 

And, as expected in situations where the most embarrassing thing has to happen, there stood Trowa, leaning against the doorframe, laughing his ass off at Quatre's expense.

 

“You look like you swallowed a fly.” Trowa let out with another round of belly-breaking laughs.

 

“Perhaps I may die--Of embarrassment! I didn't mean to come in here, I just saw the wardrobe and I didn't even think before I went to look.” Quatre stuttered out, his face flaming red as Trowa continued to laugh, practically doubled over by now.

 

“Oh Shut up.” Quatre chided, a smile reaching his own face by now. He walked over and gave Trowa's -still- laughing shoulders a good push, sending the man into the wall to stay upright.

 

“S-haha. Sorry. I shoulda...haha...shoulda told you I lived up here too,” was all Trowa got out before giving into another fit of laughter. But Trowa looked so ridiculous hunched over in the doorframe that Quatre had to start too. Still laughing hysterically at each other, Trowa sat Quatre down at the kitchen table to get him a glass of water before he chocked to death on his own laughter.

 

Quatre sipped at his much needed drink, and took the time to peruse the kitchen. His designer's eye hit on quite a few trouble spots, but he kept his big mouth shut. “Nice table. Did you fix this up too?” Quatre asked, complimenting the one piece he liked.

 

Trowa sat himself down opposite Quatre, a smile still on his face, “Nope. This was Cathy's, my sister you met downstairs, from her old place. She decorated the kitchen for me. The roosters were all her fault, thank you very much, but she refused to let me use her plates without the matching salt shakers, oven mitts, frilly fridge-top-thingies and all.” Trowa shrugged, “I needed the dishes. I never got around to burning the rest.”

 

Quatre chuckled along, and took his time to finish his last gulp of water. He didn't really want to leave there just yet. The whole place felt lived in; it wasn't the sterile hotel rooms he'd been shunted into city after city for the last couple of months. But he was getting hungry, a fact that his stomach was reminding him of at that very moment.

 

“Hey Quatre, how about I just make us something for dinner here? The nearest place is in town, and I'd hate to keep you out too late. You still have Day Two of the design tomorrow, right? I can make...Spaghetti and sauce.” Trowa offered, trying to make his dish sound exotic. It just worked to make Quatre laugh.

 

Quatre nodded, a grin on his face, “I'd love that. I haven't had a meal not provided by room service or drive-through in a long, long time.” And before Quatre could even finish his sentence, Trowa was up and grabbing pasta and canned sauce from his cupboards and putting pots onto the stove top. Quatre took his own initiative and began to arrange place settings and candles for a more romantic dinner.

 

It was well into the morning hours before Quatre finally had to concede to his enemy-- sleepiness. He still had a long drive back to his hotel, and figured he would have to call a cab to take him so he wouldn't fall asleep behind the wheel.

 

Trowa vetoed that decision in a heartbeat, “It'll take a cab at least a half hour to get all the way out here, and you're already falling asleep in your plate. I shouldn't have made you stay here for dinner, I didn't think about how far you would have to get back to your hotel. I've got a couch in the loft, I can sleep there and you can have my room.”

 

“No, Trowa, Really. I really enjoyed it, it's so comfortable here.” Quatre said around a yawn.

 

“You're going to bed.” Trowa declared and stood from his chair, ignoring all of Quatre's half-hearted protests and pulled him to his feet, walking him the few paces to his room and flicking on the light switch to bathe the room in light.

 

Trowa corralled Quatre over to the bed, sitting him down on the side unoccupied with the magazines and such, before moving the miscellaneous pile to the dresser. “Sorry, I don't use that side when I sleep and I amass a pile.” Trowa apologized with a slight blush.

 

Quatre, tired as he was, just smiled, “I do the same thing with fabric samples. I'll be looking at them in bed before I go to sleep and wake up with them stuck to my legs.” Quatre explained with a chuckle before moving himself over to the now cleaned space, which was closest to the wardrobe he was admiring earlier.

An achingly familiar tune began to play from the television that had been left on in the loft. The strains of `a wedding story' making Quatre's gut twist in memory--day after day in those king size hotel beds, all alone.

 

Deciding he could stay awake a little while longer, Quatre stood up from the bed and came up behind Trowa, who had been heading towards the doorway.

 

Trowa turned to say goodnight, and found Quatre right in front of him. “Do I get a goodnight kiss?” Quatre asked with a breathy whisper.

 

Trowa took a sharp breath, his heart stopping for a moment as he watched Quatre moving closer and closer. With a quirk of his own lips, Trowa slid his hand onto Quatre's waist and pulled the smaller boy closer until their breath met. “Whatever you want, little one. Whatever you want.” Trowa breathed and bent down to brush his lips against Quatre's in a chaste kiss. The two met again, their lips coming together deeper and wanton, and Quatre lifted his arm to the wall and flicked the light switch off.

BREAK

 

Quatre awoke with his feet entangled in the blankets and one of his fabric sample packs against his leg. Exhausted, and not yet awake, Quatre gave the stupid fabric book a good kick to get it out of the way.

 

It kicked him back.

 

Quatre was instantly awake, finding himself facing a cherry wood wardrobe. Warmth spread across his entire body at the memory of the night before, and while a little embarrassed, he couldn't say he regretted it. Moving around a bit more, he hit Trowa's leg again, this time the other man grunted and kicked back more gently, as if realizing it was another person in his bed and not an inanimate something.

 

“Sorry, I'm used to a suite with a whole King Sized bed to myself.” Quatre apologized with a yawn.

 

Trowa was awake now, and took the time to roll over, propping himself up on his elbow beside Quatre, almost on top of the blonde. “That's unfortunate.” Trowa said with a grim smile, cutting straight through the pleasantry.

 

Quatre locked his eyes with Trowa, “How do you see straight through me?” he whispered, brushing his fingers against Trowa's biceps.

 

Trowa smiled, his lips moving just enough to show it, “Probably the same way I knew no one else would look as beautiful as you wearing that locket. It was my grandmother's actually.” Trowa said, dropping a light kiss to Quatre's neck where the silver chain still resided, the locket having fallen to the pillows last night when Trowa rolled over to brace himself on either side of Quatre during their lovemaking.

 

Quatre wrapped his arms around the carpenter, gently running his fingers along his back. Quatre couldn't remember waking up feeling so excited to face the day in a long time. The warmth of Trowa next to him, the comfortable bed beneath him, and even the adorable way Trowa's hair was sticking up oddly made Quatre ache to stay right where he was until the end of days. “After this reveal, can I come back here? I still owe you a dinner for the locket, don't I?”

 

Trowa leaned down, a smirk on his face, and captured Quatre's lips in a soft kiss as his answer to that. “How about I pick you up? Duo's been crying for me to come and visit the set.”

 

The bright smile stunned Trowa with its brilliance, “Thank you.” Quatre whispered, ghosting his fingers down Trowa's arm until the larger man shivered.

 

“What time do you have to be on set?” Trowa asked with a groan, and dipped his head down to nip Quatre's pale skin with his lips, but he knew the answer before Quatre whispered it out reluctantly. With a groan of resolution, Trowa rolled off the enticing blonde and onto his side of the bed, taking a few breaths to calm his libido. They had just over an hour to get Quatre showered, dressed, fed, and into that make-up trailer in town 20 minutes away.

 

Trowa's cat pounced upon his master a few minutes later, meowing his head off, and both men dragged themselves out of the warm bed and got moving.

 

BREAK

 

Quatre surveyed his room like an eagle, waiting for its prey. And he soon spotted it.

 

It was almost the end of Day Two, the reveal was only two hours away, and at least three things were not completed. He had already commanded someone to finish the first two. No, it was, AGAIN, Jason in carpentry world, not finished with the window bench Quatre had added to the plan yesterday afternoon in his flash of inspiration. He had calmly let himself be walked on for the past month, just letting Jason finish what he would and designing with as little carpentry as he could. But no more!

 

Stomping over to the carpentry tent, his modest side-zip boot heels clicking on the tiling as he marched, Quatre placed himself in front of the carpentry bench, hands akimbo and foot tapping on the concrete. Camera's rushed to the scene like moths to a flame. Jason narrowed his eyes from over the wood block he was pushing through the table saw with just about as much energy as a popsicle melting in the fridge, and eyed the pissed off designer with boredom.

 

“Where's my window bench, Jason? It is five slats nailed together at the end with three legs on each side. It shouldn't have taken you more than a couple hours, and certainly not a day and a half. I would like to get it stained and put in the room, please.” Quatre said, his position unmoving.

 

“What's gotten into you all of a sudden?” Jason dodged, but his sawing took on a more work-conducive pace.

 

Quatre wasn't buying it; he had been swayed by that tactic too many times before. “I want it done, Jason. And I will stand here and watch you do it, the cameras behind me, if I have to stand here until the reveal.”

 

Jason scowled, puffing his chest out to maximize his size advantage over the petite designer. “It'll be done.” He answered vaguely, as he had hundreds of times before, and tried to intimidate Quatre into backing down. The man was huge, Quatre admitted, Jason had a degree as a personal trainer and taught kick boxing. But with the cameras rolling behind him, Quatre had nothing to fear (which he told himself over and over again as he tried to stop shaking in his boots).

 

“Finish it now, Jason.” Quatre demanded, his voice stronger than he felt.

 

Jason scowled, mindful of the camera's flanking the petite designer. “I'm almost done now, anyway. Watch me if you choose, I just need to nail it all together.” He finally relented and, under Quatre's careful eye, Jason assembled the bench.

 

Finished, but furious at the designer who had stood over him as if he was some petulant child, Jason picked up the heavy wooden bench and threw it right into Quatre's surprised arms.

 

With an “ooof” of shock, Quatre rocked back on his heels. The slick mud underneath him gave way and sent him to the ground on his ass with a window bench sprawled on top of his chest, knocking the wind completely out of the small man.

 

“You're nothing but a fucking bastard, you know that Jason?” Was growled from out of Quatre's line of vision, and the heavy bench was lifted off, allowing Quatre to get a big gulp of oxygen to fill his depleted lungs.

 

A second later, Quatre felt a strong, warm hand wrap around his arm and help him off the ground. Looking as lovely as he had that morning, Trowa stood face to face with Jason. Quatre moved to Trowa's side, one arm finding its way to rest on Trowa's stomach and the other settling on his back in a semi-embrace.

 

“You aren't supposed to be within 50 feet.” Jason growled back, sneering at the two.

 

“This is Arizona now, Dumbass. Petty charges like that don't apply across the state line, and even if they did, that was only a temporary order.” Trowa said back, his control regained and his voice less threatening now that he had Quatre at his side where Jason couldn't touch him.

 

Evan came ripping through the camera swarm, his usual easy smile replaced with a worried and stresses frown. “Quatre? Jason? The homeowner is early. We have to get ready to shoot-- What the hell happened! You're covered in mud! We don't have time for this.” He informed them, completely disregarding the obvious tenseness of the atmosphere and continuing on to find the other cast members, leaving them to sort it out on their own.

 

Jason turned on his heel and stalked off towards the administrative trailer, leaving Quatre and Trowa. “Thanks.” Quatre muttered, trying to rid himself of the worst of the mud covering his wash-treated jeans and white shirt. But it was a lost cause. Thankfully, he had a million spare outfits in the wardrobe trailer. But they only had a few minutes until the reveal and he needed to put the finishes in the--

 

Trowa had hefted the window bench onto his shoulder and, with a parting wink to Quatre, raced towards the house, whistling a few of the excitedly surprised crew to follow him to finish the grunt work.

 

Quatre emerged a few minutes later in flats, his heels left for a braver day, and a clean outfit that closely resembled his last (he would hate for the viewing public to have any idea that Jason had pushed him into the mud, the beloved hottie that Jason apparently was) and bounded into the room to finish it.

 

But it was already done. Everything was in place exactly as he had composed it and there were finishing touches put exactly where he would have placed them. The crew knew their work more than he, or anyone else, gave them credit for apparently.

 

“Thank god, Quatre. You're on top of things today. Get on your mic and get ready, she's in the driveway.” Evan stormed into the room flanked by Jason, the cameras, and the director, who all took up their positions immediately. Quatre didn't even have time to correct Even on who had done the finishing before the sign came and the door opened, the surprised homeowner giving a shout as she saw the changed bedroom.

 

BREAK

 

Jason led the director out of the house and to the crew tent the minute he could. Quatre was not even able to catch up until the two were opening the flap and marching in. Trowa, standing and having a beer with the rest of the crew, stuck out like a sore thumb. His height and the fact that everyone else was wearing a black Crew T-shirt while Trowa wore a red turtleneck distinguished him immediately. “What is the meaning of this?” The director demanded.

 

“I invited him.” Quatre declared, moving around to block the path of the director and carpenter. “And instead of getting all worked up about Trowa, why don't you ask why within ten minutes of the reveal the carpentry wasn't done and I was covered in mud; the reveal jeopardized because Jason couldn't be professional.”

 

The director eyed the carpenter with question, but Jason just scoffed, “I don't know what he's blabbing on about. He's just trying to save his `Boyfriend's' ass.”

 

Quatre glared, the sheer hatred of the look catching mostly everyone off guard. Jason puffed up to full intimidation height, but Quatre shook his head as if truly seeing him for the first time.

 

Proudly standing where he belonged, between an asshole and his friends, Quatre finally said his peace. “You are a malicious, hateful, spiteful, and lazy person. You never get your work finished, you are condescending and you treat the entire crew badly.” Quatre took a few steps towards the glaring carpenter, pushed far past his limit of tolerance today. “I refuse to take your shit any longer just because I am trying to keep things calm around here. I have one more show with you, and I swear I can make your life hell if I have too. So Back. Off.” Quatre threatened seriously, his voice cold and his posture ready to slug the bastard.

 

A round of voracious applause went up, cat calls and whooping echoing off the tent as the entire crew allied themselves with Quatre.

 

Quatre felt a hand gently take hold of his waist, “He's not worth it. Let's get out of here, Quatre.” Trowa said. Trowa's thumb began to gently massage his side and Quatre felt his anger dissipate to a dull sizzle. With a nudge, Trowa led Quatre out the tent, tons of `goodbye' and `thanks for visiting' flying out behind them all the way to Trowa's SUV until he shut the door and climbed into the driver's side with a mischievous smile.

 

Trowa turned the vehicle back onto the highway and cruised back towards his shop, “Felt good to finally tell him off, didn't it Quat?”

 

“Mmhm.” Quatre nodded from the passenger seat, his head reclined way back into the head rest and feet stretched out in relaxation. “Thanks for backing me up, though. I couldn't have done anything if I was stuck under that window bench.” Quatre replied lazily.

 

“Sleepy?” Trowa took a flying leap of intuition--Although, the blonde practically snoring next to him may have been a giveaway.

 

“Mmm? Oh...No.” Quatre replied with a yawn. Giving his head a shake, Quatre rolled his window down in hopes that the cool night air would wake him. It worked a bit, but not as much as he would've liked.

 

Trowa laughed, “I suppose me keeping you up and `busy' last night tuckered you right out, Poor thing.” Trowa teased, and then turned sincere, “I can take you back to your hotel if you want?” He offered.

 

Quatre shot up in his seat, “No! No I'm fine. I'm off to Houston tomorrow, I want to spend as much time with you as I can, if you don't mind, that is?” Quatre ended, a seductive smile on his lips that reminded Trowa of how truly adult the little blonde was. Quatre was no child; Trowa had learned that for sure last night.

 

Trowa glanced at the little siren in the seat next to him and gave him a wink, “I've got no problem with that at all. I set some chicken out to thaw this morning too; I can make up some dinner. Oh, and my sister left some movies, if you want to check some out, or just watch some TV.” Trowa wasn't expecting Quatre to practically jump into his side and wrap his arms around him, but in the face of adversity, Trowa prevailed and just hugged him back, unsure why something so small had the blonde practically weeping with joy.

 

“Sorry.” Quatre finally said after a minute, his face coming up from Trowa's side, but his arms staying wrapped tightly around his torso, “I'm just happy that you don't find my company boring, I suppose.”

 

Trowa continued driving, a small frown on his face, “Quatre, don't tell me someone as friendly and charming as you has difficulties making friends!” A tiny shrug was his only response from the blonde before he slowly moved back over to the passenger side of the truck and leaned against the window. Trowa put his foot in his mouth after that--he didn't think he hit the nail on the head so hard.

 

The car continued down the highway in relative silence, both of them afraid of breaking the atmosphere with trivial words. Trowa's cell phone broke it instead, the shrill buzz making them both jump in shock.

 

“Hey baby brother, Guess what I'm watching RIGHT NOW!” Cathy, the sister that never stopped, blurted out excitedly on the other end of Trowa's cell phone.

 

“Grass growing? Paint drying?” Trowa's voice dripped with sarcasm.

”Hey, the paint one, kinda. I'm watching While You Were Out, and YOU are on TV baby bro! Seriously, it's the one you did a month back, the Chinese guys' house, it's on TV right now...and so are you. I can see you hanging the lights and everything! Just like you said, it's so cool! The editors kept most of it and even--Hey, that Jason guy really is a bastard!” Cathy started cursing at the TV, Trowa having to take the phone away from his abused ear to save what hearing he had left.

 

Quatre's laugh rang through the car and Cathy's indignant cries went eerily silent. Trowa, worried, put the phone back to his ear, “Cathy?”

 

“You have someone in the car with you, Trowa, and you didn't tell me.” Trowa recognized the `in trouble' voice immediately, “Is it that blonde I saw yesterday, the one you've been drooling over? Hang up with me and flirt with him you stupid ass! What were you doing even answering the phone on a date! I'm hanging up now, Bye.” And the mechanical beeping of a dead line filled his ears.

 

Trowa shook his head in disbelief before calmly flipping the lid shut and sliding his cell phone back in his pocket, “That girl sure can talk.” Trowa muttered.

 

Turning back to his date, Trowa gave the still smiling blonde a wink, “Well, here we are.” Trowa pulled past the rod iron gates separating his driveway from the highway. Jumping out of the cab, Trowa moved to the passenger side and opened the door for Quatre, offering his hand. There was a good few feet difference between the car and the gravel, and as `vertically challenged' (not short, thank you) as Quatre was, he gratefully took the assistance.

 

Before long, Trowa was in his kitchen, doing a great job with the chicken and directing Quatre to fix up some potatoes to go along. Quatre wasn't that bad, really, Trowa assured him after the fire alarm went off --again. Quatre didn't buy it and decided to leave the rest in Trowa's capable hands. Two plates were on the table, matching rooster placemats (“So that's what those frilly things were!” Trowa had exclaimed), and the rest of the table settings were in place.

 

Trowa took the two plates and filled them over the pots, presenting them restaurant style with a flourish. They were well tucked into the meal and conversation before Trowa went eerily quiet.

 

“What time does your flight leave tomorrow?”

 

Quatre was reminded suddenly of the situation and dulled as well. “I don't leave until 11 in the morning, but I gotta go to my hotel and check out then get all the way to the airport.” Quatre responded with a sigh.

 

Trowa gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, but that didn't lift his spirits totally, so Trowa stood from his side of the table and came around to Quatre, wrapping his arms around the petit blonde for support.

 

Quatre's free hand moved to rest on Trowa's hip, bringing him even closer. “Can I stay with you tonight, though?”

 

Trowa bowed his head to drop a kiss atop the tuft of downy blonde hair and let go of Quatre's hand to wrap him in an embrace. “It would be my honor.” Trowa replied with emotion, his voice betraying him.

 

BREAK

 

The phone screamed shrilly from the bedside table and without waking completely Trowa reached over and grabbed it. Quatre stirred beside him, his blue eyes blinking sleepily and looking at Trowa from his spot atop the larger man's chest.

 

Putting the phone to his ear with one hand and placing his other arm back around the petit blonde, Trowa answered gruffly, “Hello?”

 

The voice on the other end was talking loud enough that Quatre could hear it, but too excitedly fast for him to understand. And by the way Trowa's eyes were squinting, it seemed he didn't understand either.

 

“Are--Are you looking for Quatre?” Trowa asked after a second of quiet. Quatre rubbed the sleep from his eyes and perched himself up, wondering who in earth would be calling him at this hour --the fact that it was Trowa's cell didn't register right away to his sleep fogged mind. But the voice began again a little slower, and Trowa, a little more awake now, began to nod in understanding.

 

“Well?” Quatre heard the person on the other end demand after more silence.

Trowa shook his head as if to clear it, and then put the receiver back to his ear, “I'll think about it and call you back later today, okay? Bye.” And without anything else he put the phone back on its cradle and stared at it in disbelief.

 

Quatre lay back down, curling himself back around the warm body next to him, “Who was it?” Quatre asked lightly, his voice a little scratchy from morning, but his mind beginning to work fully.

 

“Jason has been fired.”

 

Quatre sat bolt upright, “What?”

 

Trowa looked at Quatre as if disbelieving the news himself, “I guess the fiasco yesterday was enough for the director. And the Chang room episode was aired last night. People have been sending E-mails and making calls all night, I guess. The director wants to know if I can go to Houston today for the next build. People liked me. I guess.”

 

“Do you want to go, Trowa?” Quatre asked seriously while moving his fingers through Trowa's scraggly hair.

 

“I've never been the cast before...I liked working with the crew, they're a good bunch and I liked traveling, but, I've got my shop now... I guess I could call Cathy to watch it while I go to Houston, but...I don't know about next season.” Trowa looked a little lost all of a sudden.

 

“Well,” Quatre said with determination, “You're going to need to pack soon if you're going to Houston. It'll be good to see what being cast is like, and you'll make more money by being there than you would staying here. You don't need to decide about next season right now. But you do have to decide whether you go to Houston.”

 

Trowa's hands made their way to Quatre's bare hips and held them tight, “I--I'm a little nervous actually...” Trowa confessed, his voice laughing at himself as he said it.

 

Putting forehead to forehead, Quatre smiled at the Cyclops-looking thing, “I'll be with you the whole way. You're in MY territory now, baby. What are you going to do?” Quatre teased, bringing his fingers to dance across his lover's ticklish sides.

 

Trowa gave in and flipped Quatre back down flat on the bed, wrestling the blonde's fingers off his sides to pin them atop his head as he straddled the blonde playfully. “How about now? Hm? What are YOU going to do?”

 

Wiggling beneath his captor, Quatre smiled and placed a kiss on Trowa's lips. “I'm going to act super cute until you let me go?”

 

With a laugh, Trowa let him go and sat up, taking the phone in one hand and dialing his sister's number. He could deal with one more show, and at least he would get to be with Quatre for a few more days. The rest of his day was a whirlwind, and he was on the plane, nervous as hell and beseeched by wardrobe teams, the director, and his cast mates. Thankfully, Quatre was right there beside him, giving his hand a squeeze when Trowa was ready to jump out of the emergency exit.

They made a great team, the design moving along like a well oiled machine. The crew was ecstatic to have Trowa back, the camera's loved him, and his work was stunning. But the best, the sweetest part of this deal, was when the day was over and both he and Quatre were exhaustedly pouring themselves into a hotel bed, neither was alone.

And that's what happens, While You Were Out!

 

 

 

 

 

Author's note:
This is the last part of the one shot. (Why in 2 parts? Because it read too long as one) I hope you all enjoyed it! I won't be able to respond to Reviews, since there won't ban any more chapters, But REVIEW ANYWAY because without some criticism I won't be able to improve for my next story!

Reviewer responses:

Thank you so MUCH to everyone! I can't reply to everyone, so just a few, and here we go:

 

Silver Cateyes--wow, you're sick sense of humor continues (and I love it!). Thanks so much for noticing the little details!

 

Jo-9tails--thanks for being such a fan! I'm flattered! OH! And I finally got a copy of Midnight Pearls as well as Scarlet moon, and I have to say, I SO loved Blacksmith Ken and Werewolf Ran better than the characters in the damn book!

 

yaeko--Of COURSE Andrew is the best! I watch WYWO just to see what T-shirt he has on for that episode.

 

Neji's IceKitten-- haha! So I'm NOT THE ONLY ONE who goes and checks out writer's favorites list to find some good stuff. But I warn you, I use my favorites list as a `when I get to it, this fic looks interesting list', sometimes I haven't even read the stories on there yet! So be careful, cause I sometimes don't know what I'm recommending!

 

gymnastics-lover-- thank you so much for you're praise! I am humbled.

 

Amy Hirosaki--thank you! And I don't only write good fics! (I just don't post the crappy ones!) Thank you so much fo r you're feedback, and I hope this chapter is easier to understand (the design language is less prominent in this chapter)

 

Solo's Ghost-- Thanks! *blushes* and uh...sequel to wilderness? I don't know about that...

 

Mistress of Muses-- Thanks for the praise, and I never really thought about this as a crossover with the actual show--since I use very little from the show itself--but I guess it really is one. And if you think I was able to do it gracefully, then I couldn't have done any better!

 

Kinaua-- Wow, thanks. My best friend does that, with the Binder and print outs. I just save to my laptop! I've read fablespinner's stuff at least a hundred times over! It'd be dog-eared if I had prints!

 

Thalia16--THANKS for your continued support!!! And I could never have my dear Andrew as a villain! NEVER! And thanks for the stylistic advice, I took it into consideration for this part.