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"Snow Day"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: Pure fluff. Sick!Quatre. Threats of
bodily harm Pairings: 3x4, 1x2 Summary: The guys go skiing and Quatre ends up
getting sick. " Snow Day" “I hate you.” “C’mon, Quatre. You don’t mean that.” Trowa said with caring as he bundled his lover in a third blanket. Quatre glared menacingly, but the threat was severely reduced thanks to the mass of propped-up pillows, scarves, and quickly amassing used Kleenex Quatre had taken to leaving in a pile to avoid having to shift the few inches to reach the garbage can Trowa had dutifully put beside the bed at 7am. Quatre, all red in his cheeks, eyes watery from sneezing again, and boneless in misery looked like a 2 year old home from school and tucked into his parent’s bed. “Do you want me to make you soup or something?” Trowa asked, propped up semi-beside the blonde on their cabin’s shared bed, trying to be close at hand but not so close that it would disturb the poor suffering blonde. He had made it clear he was not to be moved on pain of death or dismemberment. “No.” Quatre muttered dejectedly, “I hate you.” He pouted. Trowa just raised a brow. “'Let’s go Skiing,' he says. 'It’s so much fun,' he says. 'Quatre, you’ll absolutely love it!' He says!” With another harsh bark and hollow wheeze another Kleenex joined the invading Kleenex army. Soon they would have the forces to take Mongolia, then the WORLD! “I never did, Cat. I just said I had enjoyed skiing before. You and Duo planned this whole thing.” Trowa said, defending his honor. “Yeah, but you said it with that little genuine smile of yours.” “You were enjoying yourself too, until the snow bank.” Trowa pointed out. “Then the tree, then the tree dumping 10 feet of snow on my head for pissing it off.” Quatre muttered, adding another Kleenex to the 6th brigade. Trowa decided to chance being beaten by a pillow and slid in close to his lover, dropping a kiss to the shell of other man’s ear, “I don’t think the tree meant it.” He whispered, his breath tickling across his near-fevered skin. Trowa opened his mouth to pull in the lobe and gently prod it with his tongue, just what he’d like to do to other aspects of Quatre’s anatomy right now... “You have a death wish.” Or not. Quatre rose from the pillow-cave long enough to hack up half a lung into one of his last Kleenexs and then slumped back to his spot, addeding the fluffy white paper-product to the Capture the Flag training going on near the left side of the training grounds. “I love you?” Trowa tried, hating not being able to make Quatre feel better. “I love you, too. I need more Kleenex and I’m still cold.” Quatre pouted. “Where the hell are those two?” Heero grunted, waiting to hit the slopes. “Probably having a little good morning something, something,” Duo suggested with a waggle. Heero glared, “I am not waiting any longer for the two of them to finish up.” Duo smiled with mischief and crouched, his glove-covered hand collecting the perfectly sticky snow into a lightly packed ball almost as big as his head. Just the perfect texture to break apart into a million snowy crystals on impact. “Let’s hurry them up, then?” Duo promised, moving towards the cabin resting adjacent from their own (all owned by the Winner Corp, of course). From the one slightly open window Duo could see the bed and a mass of moving blankets. He backed up a bit, allowing his lover to open the window for a better aim, and let it fly! They took the cabin with force, Heero taking out the door to allow their admittance with ease and they moved to capture the bed. Quatre sat there alone, stunned, and coved with rapidly melting snowball parts dripping through the three blankets and layers of scarves, sweaters, and socks he had piled on to avoid cold. And wet. And snow. Trowa coked a gun at the direction of the intruders, only stopping himself from firing when he saw Heero and Duo standing there stunned. He lowered the gun and slowly bent down to retrieve the two new boxes of Kleenex and hot water bottle he had been preparing for Quatre. A wibbling little whine came from the bed, which Trowa just noticed had a light dusting of white. Trowa put the hot water bottle on his lover’s head and began to brush the snow off the best he could, trying to stop his stressed and miserable lover from bursting into tears of frustration. “Oh shit. Sorry Quatre, we didn’t know you were sick...” Trowa cocked the gun towards their position and released
the safety. ~ * ~
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