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"Laundry Service"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: R Warnings: AU, fluff Pairings: 3x4 Summary: While working at a quiet Laundromat,
Trowa comes face-to-face with a blonde angel. " Laundry Service" Trowa had seen it all in the little Bloom family Laundromat. He’d worked there since he was cough almost legal cough to be working, and now called the little reception counter his home. They were located just a few block and a skip from the local university, but since they were under cut by about a dime a load by Rick’s Laundromat three block in the other direction, they were usually much quieter, and had far more trustworthy clientele. It was nicer that way. “Excuse me...” a little tenor said, bringing Trowa out from his musings. It was a new face, (they did get a lot of those in here, though. Many students who hadn’t found out about Rick’s tended to come to the closest place first). And although he looked familiar, Trowa knew he’d never seen him in the laundry mat before. “Yes.” Trowa answered, smiling gently. The guy was blonde, tiny, and absolutely adorable as he was lightly flushing in nerves? Embarrassment? Excitement at the prospect of clean clothes? Who knew... but it was rather fetching on him. “Do you know if I should stay with my laundry... or do most people leave... or what?” The blonde asked, fidgeting under Trowa’s look. He looked very put together, actually. Tight white Capri pants, and a tunic-style blue shirt looked somewhat feminine on the guy, but it was obvious he was, in fact, a he. A rather gorgeous he, to be honest. Trowa usually just pointed to the big sign saying “we are not responsible for lost of stolen items” and then confided that nothing’s ever been stolen on his watch...but this time... “Well... a lot of people choose to stay. We have chairs,” and instead of pointing to the sign, he pointed to the row of red plastic chairs right next to his desk complete with magazines and a Rubik’s cube to keep people busy for hours if the tumbling colours in the washers didn’t do the trick. The timer on one of the dryers in the row closest to the counter went off, and Trowa got up from his spot, retrieving a basket, and then taking the clothes out. “...I thought... I thought you worked here?” The blonde said with genuine confusion. Trowa chuckled, folding so fast he was nearly a blur, “I do. We charge to do washing by the pound.” The blonde nodded, “You’re...good at it.” He said, watching Trowa’s hands fold the entire industrial-sized dryer load in a few minutes. “Been folding here since I was about 12! My family owns it, so I was helping since I was old enough to! I see a lot of” And Trowa held up a tiny pink leopard print thong, dancing it in the blonde’s vision before folding it and placing it right atop the pile of laundry where everyone could see it(he had to have fun SOMEHOW). “I’m Trowa, by the way. I don’t bother with name-tags since most of our patrons know me anyway.” The little blonde flushed just gently, “I-I knew your name. We were in a class together before... Intro German? The teacher said your name on roll for a few weeks, But you dropped after the first class, I think... I’m Quatre.” Trowa lifted a brow at that... odd to remember such a thing? But kinda cute, really, how the guy was flushing again. “Quatre, hm? I take it you stayed in intro German, then?” “Ja!” Quatre said, smiling playfully, loosing some of that nervousness as the conversation came easier. “It was a pain in the ass, though. Probably better that you got out when you did.” Trowa brought the basket with him to the counter and put it on a shelf full of other folded clothes, then moved out to the sitting area to perch atop a washer, his legs swinging just a few feet from Quatre. “I think I dropped it because I got into the class I needed. I’ve just about got my degree as a machinist.” “Machinist? With engines and such? How...manly.” The blonde said, his smile falling a little thin. Trowa smiled, “Why thank you, just don’t tell that I cut my teeth on the motors for sewing machines and dryers and no one will know I’m a big softy.” It came to him quite suddenly that the blonde was FLIRTING with him. Well, that wasn’t a first for the laundry mat, to be sure, he was hit on fairly often, but for some reason he thought this little blonde was a little more serious about it then most. “So, what’s your major?” Trowa asked back. “Accounting,” The blonde answered with a little grimace, “although I’d much rather be doing something like inter-cultural studies or social work. But I already have a job lined up once I get my degree.” “My heart goes out to you. I’m looking forward to years of fixing washing machines. But I really don’t mind it, actually. It’s nice to be able to make people’s lives go a little smoother. After my degree I might be able to open up a little side business fixing household appliances and such. It’d be good money. Quiet.” “I never thought of that sort of thing as helping people, but it does, doesn’t it?” The blonde said, getting comfortable in the chairs and bringing his knees up to lean on. Trowa smiled, “Hey! You could manage it, and I’ll fix stuff! We’d make one hell of a pair, hm?” He teased. He had been expecting a blush, but the blonde turned as red as a tomato! Maybe he was pushing too far? “Just playing with you, Quatre.” The buzzer on the washer went off, and the little blonde flew over there, happy for the distraction the chore afforded him as he carried it to the front-loading dryers stacked on the walls, purposely NOT looking at Trowa. The blonde kept looking at the dryer, though, showing no intention of turning back to Trowa. “Hey...hey...Quatre? C’mon...I’m sorry for embarrassing you? I didn’t think it would bother you, It was just a joke...” “I’m gay.” Quatre said, clearly, and looking just faintly at Trowa’s refection through the glass door of the dryer. Trowa blinked for a moment, “So am I...What’s that got to do with you getting all quiet on me. I was just... playing... I didn’t mean to make you so embarrassed.” “I like you, Trowa.” The blonde said out of the blue, blushing so bright Trowa could see it at the back of his neck. Trowa slid off the washer... and moved a little closer so he could see the blonde, “That’s...very nice... but I hardly know you...” “I know. I-- I’m sorry. You probably don’t remember me. We were in German, yeah, but... You’ve bumped into me a few times around the campus. Remember when you spilled my coffee all over my backpack that one time when you turned around? That’s because I was following you, trying to figure out a way to say hi... I’m sorry, I’m your crazy stalker...” Surprised and a little creeped out, Trowa nodded slowly, “So...you, like, follow me home?” “Oh no! no no! I just...see you around and I kept trying to find a way to talk to you. I... I met your sister yesterday and she told me you worked here...” Quatre turned and looked. Trowa’s face was a mix of confusion, wariness, and another heavy dose of disbelief. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come. I’ll leave you alone,” The blonde said, moving out of that laundry mat as quick as his feet would take him and crossing the street without a backward glance. A few minutes of confused silence was broken by dryer’s BUZZ...chiming that the blonde’s clothes were done. He’d left his laundry basket too, a little white one... with stickers all over it. Harvest the Fam. Live 8. Make poverty history. Trowa was smiling, looking at the basket... then seeing that the blonde wasn’t coming back, he decided to fold what was in there. Perhaps the blonde would come back for it, and Trowa could apologize. So, being confronted by your stalker wasn’t an everday occurance, so Trowa felt justified in not quite knowing how to handle that. As he flipped through the clothes, though, he began to smile gently-- They little baby-doll T with “Too cute for school” would look awfully fetching on the blonde.
A random girl walked by him, giving him a quick once over “You forget your key?” “I’m looking for someone...Quatre? Blonde, cute, and tiny? Wears..” trowa dug through the basket and held up a little button down polo in salmon. She lifted her brows, clearly saying ‘WEIRDO” and walked away from the doors... deciding to sit in the coffee shop instead of letting the crazy man with the basket into their dorms. Trowa sighed in frustration. “That’s Quat’s shirt. And Quatre’s laundry basket...” A voice piped up, looking at Trowa wearily. It was another guy with violet eyes narrowed in suspicion and a long braid trailing down his back. “You know Quatre!” Trowa said with relief. “I- I met him today. It. It was weird and he... kinda ran out. I need to talk to him.” The other guy narrowed his eyes, “And WHY do you have his clothes? You look kinda weird.” Trowa rolled his eyes, “I work at a laundromat! My name’s Trowa. And it--“ The other guy’s eyes widened, “YOU’RE Trowa? THE Trowa? ...Well...” and then he walked around him, giving him a head to toe look, “You aren’t too bad on the eyes... I’ll let you in.” and the man walked to the glass security doors and flicked his ID card down, “Hurry up. I’ll point you to Quat’s room. I live two doors down...so I’ll know if you try something funny, got it!” “Of course” Trowa said with a nod, “I’m glad he has friends like you...” The man nodded, and walked them up a few flights and then down, passing door after door, identical except for the cork board on each door, decorated or bearing a name... and then the man knocked on one, slightly opened, and decorated with mardi-gras beads and all sorts of bright sparkling stickers with a big Q proudly displayed, “Quat?” “Oh god, DUO! I did the STUPIDEST thing EVER today! I can’t believe it! Oh my god!” The voice was upset and hoarse, but definitely the same guy from earlier. Trowa pushed in front of Duo, and pushed the door all the way open with his hip... admitting him into a rather nice dorm room, bright and cheery, and nicely messy. The blonde was on the bed, eyes red and puffy, and head hung in his arms. When the door opened, he looked up, probably expecting the braided fellow, but when he saw Trowa instead his eyes nearly bugged out of his sockets! Trowa had thought of this. So before the blonde could say one more word, he launched into his practiced story, “So... I met this guy today. And MAN, was he a looker, but also very sweet, and kinda shy. He told me that he liked me... but, It was kinda weird since I didn’t really know him. He ran out of my Laundromat and left his clothes behind.” Quatre blushed to the roots and moved to snag the basket out of Trowa’s hands, but he pulled back, keeping it, and smiling, “no no! listen! I practiced! ANYWAY! So this guy, I said I didn’t know him, so how could I even give him a chance? Well, I had his laundry. And I know a lot about laundry...” Trowa put the basket down and held up the sweater that led him to alumni hall “Sweater with Dorm name. Exhibit A. I was really hoping I was right in assuming this, I mean, I wash some eith billion UCLA sweaters, and I know the people wearing them don’t actually go. I’m glad I was right on this one. I had to try” Trowa said, pulling the shirt down perfectly folded. Next, he held up a pair of frog-print socks, “Exhibit B. Adorable socks. Kinda girly, but it did sort of fit the impression I got of you at the Laundromat, anyway. And I think they’re cute. Just like you.” He put the socks down. “Exhibit C. Okay, it’s your underwear, I know, you’re mortified, but really, I see so many pairs of underwear, it doesn’t phase me, but wait! Let me tell you what these tell me. They’re briefs. That means you’re probably a more traditional sort of guy, no funky leopard print thongs for everyday use, and it shows that you still have some masculinity, thank god, I like guys, not chicks without boobs, you know?” “Exhibit D” and by then, Quatre’s face was completely red, watching the man of his dreams dissect his now-clean laundry. That had NEVER been part of his fantasies, to be honest. Trowa held up an array of T shirts, all with different sayings and colours, bright and cute, “I personally thought the “I am a noun” one was cute. And the hard Rock café’s pink guitar thing...Very nice.” “Exhibit E,” Trowa started, moving through the pile a little deeper. “Stop. STOP.” Quatre said, reaching out the grab Trowa’s arm, “What are you trying to say with all this?” Quatre asked, looking a little disturbed to have his laundry dissected so easily. Trowa fidgeted with the hem of a pair of Bermuda shorts, “Well, I guess I’m trying to say that... I’m sorry for reacting like that. I was freaked, because you seemed to know so much about me, and I had just met you. Then you ran out before I could really wrap my mind about what you said, and I’m sorry. I wanted to at least bring these back to you...and as I went through, I kinda... learned a bit about you, is all.” Quatre nodded slowly, processing the information himself, then began to smile, “Are you trying to say that if I ask you out to dinner, you’ll accept?” Trowa smirked, looking up and lifting a brow, “No, this is me trying to say, Will you let me take YOU to dinner, to make up for the misunderstanding, and let me get to know you for real?” Quatre blushed, smiling brightly, “Okay. I’d like that...” “How about right now?” Trowa said. And with that, Quatre grinned, standing up and moving in close to the taller man, leaning towards him and pressing their lips together. Trowa caught on a moment later, and pressed back, moving against the blonde, wrapping his arms tight around him and deepening the kiss until they had to break for air. “Aren’t you glad you left your laundry?” Trowa said, smiling softly. Quatre wrinkled his nose playfully, “Yeah, I guess.
Rick’s is still a dime cheaper, but I like the eye-candy at yours
better. I'm a very satisfied customer.”
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