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"Drabbles"Written By: Clara Barton Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. The following
is an intellectual exercise with no intention of profit. That said,
these characterizations, words, and situations are mine. Please ask
before reprinting. Rating: R A/N:
For Yesacia, who requested 1x3 for #12: Things you said when you thought
I was asleep. Warnings: angst Pairings: 1x3
Trowa laughed, the sound catching in his throat, as if he still wasn't used to it, was still unfamiliar with how to make the sound, how to feel it, and I pulled him into another kiss. "Stop," he pushed me away, one palm on my chest. "You'll get wet." I worked around his objection by removing my shirt, my trousers and my boxers, until I stood in front of him naked. I arched an eyebrow in challenge, and he rolled his eyes and took a step back, allowing me into the shower with him. I kissed him again, and this time he didn't pull away, didn't seem to care that soap was dripping from his hair onto his nose and between our lips, and I didn't care much either. It had been too long. Too long since I had come home to find him there. But it didn't matter. Stepping into his arms, joining my body with his, felt as natural and effortless as it ever had. We stayed in the shower too long, until the water turned frigid and we were scrambling to get out, and he was laughing again as he dried me off, and he made my already unruly hair even worse. The light was better, out here, and my eyes traced over all of the cuts my fingers had felt in the shower. None too deep, none too close to anything vital. Though the bruising on his hips made me arch an eyebrow. He hadn't complained, before, in the shower, when I had gripped him tightly and buried myself in his heat. He shrugged one careless shoulder. "I missed you." An excuse and an apology. I knelt down and kissed at the bruises, caressed them with my tongue until he was moaning, low and nearly silent. "Please," he begged, and nudged my head in a different direction. I took my time, bracing his knees when he shuddered and needed the extra support, and I swallowed his pleasure while he held me tightly, fingers digging into my scalp. After, he curled around me on our bed, one leg between mine and one arm around my waist, fingers clutching at the sheets in front of me, as if he needed to make sure I wouldn't move without alerting him. Ironic, considering that he was the one who so often slipped away in the dead of night without a word. "I love you." It was a whisper, a teasing puff of hot air against the back of my neck, hours after we had turned off the lights, and I was sure he thought I was asleep. He didn't expect a response, was still, even now, convinced there would be none. I moved my hand across the sheets and took his in my grasp. I brought our joined hands to my lips and pressed a kiss against his knuckles. His body eased, his lips, pressed against my neck, curved into a smile.
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