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"Fore!!"Written By: Dentelle_noir Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing AC or the
characters. GW belongs to Bandai, Sotsu and associated parties. This
is a work of fiction and written for fun, not profit Rating: PG 13 Warnings: AU, Pairings: 3x4 Summary: Quatre is forced away from his studies
for a...rather interesting game of Mini-Putt "Fore!!" “It’s a giant stuffed camel, honestly; Is this supposed to be fun?” Quatre groaned, looking at it, and the people under it, hitting little white balls through its hooves. “I’m pretty sure it’s a giant ply-wood and enamel camel, actually...can you imagine the pain in the ass cleaning a stuffed one would be after the rain?!” Duo chimed back, carrying two clubs and their golf balls in his hands. ....a lime-green ball (obviously for Duo) and... “You’ve GOT to be kidding me! It’s NEON PINK!” Quatre groaned, looking at the hideous mini-putt ball, “Why not just throw a sign on my ass!” “It might help you get a DATE” Duo teased back, setting up his green ball at the first hole, “Come on, Quat! Loosen up a bit! It’s the weekend!” “I have three group projects that NO ONE’S working on but me, one presentation on Thursday, and a Stats lab to work on. Tell me how an afternoon trying to get a stupid ball through a massive camel’s hoof is going to help get any of that done again?” “Because, Quatre, the REAL life of a collage student revolves around the weekends, and you have no life, and no boyfriend. Time out will help you relax, and you’ll get your work done better!” Duo said, yelling out “FORE!”...and tapped his little green ball towards the first hole, missing completely. Quatre laughed at Duo’s antics, and tapped his little ball along, getting a hole in one while he counted no less then seven stroked for Duo (and saw a lovely 4 penciled by Duo under his score). Quatre supposed he DIDN’T get out much... He was an accounting major, and honestly, as soon as people heard that at a party he was the outcast anyway, so why miss all that valuable work time to sip at tepid beer alone on someone’s couch? As they began to make their way around the giant camel, climbing higher as they made their way around the course, Quatre did begin to have a little fun, watching Duo fail miserably at mini putt while Quatre managed a score no higher then 4 (on a par 3). Poor Duo started getting frustrated at Quatre’s talent soon enough, glaring at him, “You done this before? You said you hadn’t....” Duo groused. Quatre shook his head furiously, “I’ve never mini-putt! I promise! I have belonged to the Riverside golf club since I was twelve, though....” And that seemed to crush poor Duo’s spirits. Thinking fast, Quatre set up for the shot towards hole at the bottom of a small incline on the side of the camel’s hip...he could do it easily... With a thought for Duo’s rather fragile ego, he missed on purpose, and the ball hit the brick outer lining with all the downward force of gravity on a bouncy plastic hollow ball. The neon pink golf ball made a PONK sound, and bounced high off the brick and flew towards the edge of the hill, barreling down on the unsuspecting head of one of the putters at hole three, a surprised, “MOTHER FUCK!” flying from the mouth of another collage-age player. The man looked up, and spotted Quatre and Duo looking guilty, leveling Quatre with intense green eyes blazing even through the fall of red-brown hair over one side of his face. “I’m sorry!” Quatre squeaked, blushing hotly as he stood there, practically hanging off the hill top to look down and make sure he was alright. The guy was dreadfully handsome, with an athlete’s body and tight jeans. Why’d he have to hit the HOT ONE! Mr-lump-on-his-head looked Quatre up and down for a moment, eyes lingering on the casual tan T shirt and khaki shorts...and loafers, because Quatre didn’t actually own any flip-flops to complete the look, then smiled tightly, “Dude. Yeah, it’s...okay. Just don’t do it again,” he said with a dismissive grunt, trying to get back to his game. “Go get your ball, Dude,” Duo said, trying his damndest not to laugh, but failing miserably. Quatre growled angrily, and huffed to the nearby access stairs, climbing down the hill, getting there just as Mr-lump-on-his-head was bending over to replace his own golf ball on the T... and grabbing the little neon pink ball, staring at it for a moment in complete confusion. Mr-lump-on-his-head straightened, and looked to where Quatre had been, but instead came face to face with the blonde.... “That’s... my ball?” Quatre said, blushing a little. All he needed now was to be called a fag and told to get the hell off the course before Mr-lump-on-his-head and all his jock-looking buddies decided to beat the crap out of him and Duo. Mr-lump-on-his-head looked at the bright pink ball, then to Quatre, then at the hot pink ball, then at Quatre again, and his mouth opened for a moment as the new information processed. Instead of “get the hell away from me,” though, Mr-lump-on-his-head blushed just a little himself, “Oh....You’re...” He trailed off, looking at the pink ball, “You could make it up to me, you know...” Quatre blinked, blushing hotly. Was he...asking him OUT? “How...so?” Quatre asked, biting his lip a little nervously, looked down to the fake green turf, then back up to look at the far prettier green of the slightly taller man’s eyes. Mr-lump-on-his-head smiled a little, “By taking me out for dinner....Tonight... You cover dinner, and I’ll cover desert.” He said, smiling gently so sexily, Quatre felt his knees going wobbly. “Yes! I mean.....I can...handle that,” Quatre said eagerly, trying not to sound as desperate as he was. Mr-lump-on-his-head grabbed a pen, and took Quatre’s hand, writing his number down quickly, with “Trowa, 7pm” written in flourishing letter on the back of Quatre’s hand. Still not letting go of his hand, Trowa picked it up, and delicately kissed the blonde’s knuckles, smiling that sexy smile again. He turned Quatre’s hand over, then dropped the neon pink ball into Quatre’s hand, closing his fist for him (since Quatre wasn’t doing much of anything else at that time, grinning stupidly) and he walked away to catch up with his friends, already at the next hole, practically sashaying as he went, knowing Quatre was staring. Quatre counted to three to settle down, then turned and walked up the stairs back to where Duo was, trying even HARDER now not to laugh, failing as soon as he saw how red Quatre had turned. “Worked out well, did it?” Quatre looked at the little pink ball in his hands, and then to Duo. “...thankyou thankyou THANK YOU!” he hissed, jumping for joy and showing Duo the number! “I’ve got a date tonight!” “What happened to the three group projects that NO ONE’S working on but you, one presentation on Thursday, and a Stats lab to do?” Duo mocked. Quatre looked to his friend, and GRINNED, “What did you say Duo? Oh yes...’the life of the collage student revolves around weekends’...and I think a date with Mr. Tall-dark-and-Sexy-smile is JUUUST what I need to, uh, what did you say? ‘Relax’, so I can ‘better concentrate on my studies’, yeah, studies.” Duo cackled, and walked off the putting range with Quatre, the rest of their game forgotten, “I knew you’d like the ball I picked out for you.”
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