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"Foxy’s birthday"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: Gratiutous hugging of plushies, fluff Pairings: 3x4 Summary: Trowa brings home a plushie "Foxy’s birthday" Quatre’s first thought when he saw the little stuffed fox on his and Trowa’s bed was “AWWW!” followed closely by “My husband is the sweetest person in the freaking world!” he would have hugged Trowa right then and there, but his lover was in the shower, if the sounds of water coming from the bathroom was any indication. The little palm-sized animal was looking absolutely adorable with baby-soft roan fur and little embellishments of longer whisps of fuzz on the tail and chin, and bright, wide plastic eyes that looked forever pouty, as if it always needed a hug. Quatre loved it instantly. But, it was kind of an odd gift. It was almost a week after Valentine's Day so Quatre was a little confused as to why there would be a gift on their bed today of all days. He knew he hadn’t forgotten something; he had a very comprehensive electronic calendar, after all. But then he noticed that the fox was almost haphazardly situated on Trowa’s side. And there was no note. Quatre knew that, when he and Trowa chanced surprise gifts like this, they always left a note. Quatre began to slowly move around the fox, hyper aware of anything that might give away an incendiary device as he wracked his brain for a reason for a haphazard fox getting past all his and Trowa’s security while Trowa was no more than two feet away. Trowa emerged from the bathroom, dragging a towel over his wet hair, and he smiled a “welcome home” to his boyfriend. Noticing his distraction, Trowa blushed guiltily and moved over to the fox, sitting down on their bed and picking it up comfortably. Trowa propped the plushy up under the arms so the fox looked up at Quatre droopingly. “I saw him in a bargain bin at the grocery store. Quatre, meet Foxy.” Quatre blinked. “Well...” Trowa said, as he almost reverently stroked the baby-soft fur, “he’s more like…Foxy the second. The first foxy caught fire when I was 9. The console fried in my suit and he got hit with the sparks. I had him back when I was with the mercs.” Quatre sat down on the bed gently, reaching out to touch his husband’s hand and bring him back. His eyes had been staring off into the past blankly. Quatre smiled merrily, trying to restore some fun, “and you named him Foxy?” Trowa turned to look at his husband, a dead light in his eyes, “I wasn’t a particularly creative child when it came to names.” He deadpanned, freezing in the gentle petting and refusing to meet Quatre’s eyes as he stared painfully at the bedspread. “I shouldn’t have bought it.” Trowa whispered, standing quickly with the fox and moving pointedly to the garbage bin. Quatre stood quickly, moving to his side of the closet and dropping to his knees, rustling through the boxes on the floor. He found what he was looking for and stood, hiding his treasure from Trowa (who had stopped to see what in the world Quatre was doing). Taking the few more steps needed to climb back on the bed, Quatre produced a worn plush camel with short, fat paws bigger then its head, “Foxy, meet Cala.” Quatre said with a slightly embarrassed smile. He gently dropped the camel into the centre of the bed, where Foxy had been. Trowa hesitated dropping the plushy into the garbage for a few seconds, watching Quatre like a hawk. Quatre noticed that his lover had resumed the gently kneading of the animal’s fur, but he still hadn’t decided to let down his defenses yet. Quatre picked up Cala and held her, “Cala, it’s Foxy’s birthday today. You have to be nice to him, show him the ropes around here. Think you can handle it?” Quatre said to her. Putting the camel’s face to his ear, Quatre nodded sincerely. “Cala says she’d like to get to know Foxy, if he doesn’t mind?” Quatre said, again putting the camel back on the bed. Trowa scoffed, his mouth lifting from that blank look for a moment at the sheer silliness, “Stuffed animals don’t have birthdays.” Trowa said with fronted scorn, but he moved over to sit on the bed. Ever so slowly, Trowa deposited the fox next to Quatre’s camel, giving the little plushy a parting pat for support (whether it was for the fox or the owner, only they knew for sure). Quatre reclined onto the bed comfortably, poking the camel gently as he looked at Trowa, “Is too his birthday. You brought him into the family today, so it’s his birthday today. It’s the rules.” “There's no such thing as stuffed animal rules.” Trowa scoffed, getting a pillow firmly to the side of the head for his effort. The scene degenerated into a pillow fight from there. It was a week after Valentine's Day…again. Quatre had been with Trowa for almost 2 years now. Quatre had slipped out of work early, and called Trowa on his cell phone from their back door instead of the office to make sure he was home. Using all his skills as a Gundam pilot, Quatre snuck upstairs to high-jack the guests of honour and then stalked back down to the library where Trowa was seductively sprawled out on the couch, sleepily reading a book. Quatre let himself be heard as he crept into the room and started to hum the age old tune of "Happy Birthday". Under his left arm he held a little chocolate cake. And under the right he had the stolen Cala and Foxy. Quatre sat himself down on the edge of the couch, setting the cake on the table and opening it so that Trowa could see the big “Happy Birthday Foxy!” written across it. Trowa looked at him in confusion for a moment, then broke out into a gentle smile. “You’re throwing a party for the stuffed animals?” Trowa drawled, his sleep deepened voice rumbling seductively out of his chest. (Quatre was instantly glad he went for the chocolate cake instead of the ice cream. It would have melted by the time they got back to it, if Quatre had anything to say about the matter.) “But of course. It’s the rules.” Quatre stated, walking the two animals across Trowa’s chest. Crossing his eyes to see the fox directly in front of him, Trowa couldn’t help but chuckle. In the face of Quatre’s delight, Trowa had no choice but to capitulate gracefully, “Well then, Happy Birthday Foxy.” It was funny, though, Trowa thought. It was another year with Quatre, and another year of letting go of his past. “Now, to celebrate, I need to whump you in another pillow fight.” Quatre said, pouncing on his lover. With a laugh, Trowa rolled them until he had Quatre pinned to the couch, helpless while Trowa smiled over him. Reaching out a hand, Trowa put the two animals on the floor, hiding their little plush faces from the couch. There were some things little Foxes and Camels did not
need to see, no matter how pleasurable for the participants.
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