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"Keep In Time"Written By: Dentelle_noir Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing AC or the
characters. They belong to Bandai, Sotsu and associated parties. This
is a work of fiction and written for fun, not profit Rating: R Warnings: AU, sap, angst, fluff Pairings: 3x4. Summary: A suspicious accident leaves Trowa without
a skating partner, sentencing him to a year without competition. Quatre
is an injured dancer, trying to find a way to live without his joy.
Together, they make new rules and find a new path. "Keep In Time" Chapter 8 Trowa was so eager to tell Quatre the news, that he left practice like a rocket and instead of heading to the school, he headed towards Quatre’s house. It was Monday morning, and school started in another 20 minutes. He was cutting it awfully close, but he was too excited to not at least TRY! At a crosswalk a few blocks from his house, Trowa spotted a blonde head of hair on a body swimming in a dark blue hoodie with “BARTON” written stark across the back. From memory, Trowa knew the sweater had the figure skating logo on the sleeve at bicep height. It was very long on Quatre, but the blonde was able to pull off ‘cute’ in it instead of ‘slothful’. Quatre was wearing it like a jacket in the crisp morning air, even though Trowa thought he should have been wearing something thicker-- it was moving into spring, but the slush froze crystal-sharp every morning. He pulled up with the jeep and gave a honk. Quatre jumped half a mile and turned bug-eyes to the car, settling when he saw it was Trowa smiling instead of a tractor-trailer barreling down on him or something. Quatre tugged his ear-phones off and grinned, bouncing over to the passenger side and climbing in before the light turned green. “Missed me?” Quatre joked, stuffing his messenger-bag onto the floor and dropping the slim CD player into a pocket. Trowa realized he really should give Quatre his MP3 player back.... but made no move to do so. He was enjoying listening to the songs too much, really. “Yeah. And I have good news!” Trowa said, smiling affectionately at the blonde, “Dimitri was incredibly impressed with my skating all yesterday. He demanded to know what was so different, and I told him about stretch class with you.” Quatre’s face lit up like Christmas, “Can you join? You can just do the Sunday class! For a lot of us it’s a three times a week class, plus the Sunday separate. You could do just the Sunday class if that’s all you can make. I know July and a few others do it that way.” Trowa grinned, “He said yes. AND since I really didn’t have time to put something else in, we went over my whole practice schedule and he’ll let me drop a practice right after school on Monday, and another on Wednesday to make up the time. I’ll be able to hang for 2 hours after school on those days.” Quatre launched himself at Trowa, (uncaring about almost careening them into a pole, since Trowa was turning them into the school parking lot at the time) and wrapped him in an exuberant hug. Trowa put the car into park and hugged him back. “I thought you’d like that. So you get to see me on Monday, Wednesday, and Sunday too!” Music started to blare from the school speakers, telling the students they had exactly seven minutes of the Beatles to get to class before the bell. Trowa turned off the ignition and climbed out, hefting his duffle to his shoulder and locking the doors. Almost as if choreographed, Trowa and Quatre both came together walking towards the school, moving with unconscious synchronization. Once inside the building, Quatre unzipped the sweater and blushed guiltily, “I still have your sweater, sorry. You can have it back, if you want it?” He offered (although he hadn’t taken it OFF yet, Trowa noticed). “You keep it; it looks really cute on you. I have more. Plus I still have your MP3 player.” Trowa noted. Quatre smiled brightly, “I don’t mind as long as you’re enjoying it! I want to see some choreography to some of my songs, you know!” Quatre teased, moving with Trowa towards class (Trowa’s assigned locker was completely empty, since he pretty much carried it all with him in his duffle). Trowa bumped his hip playfully, brushing against Quatre’s hand in the process. Trowa wound their fingers together without thinking, “We’ll have to see. Maybe for fun or something. I need a partner to compete, or even practice, really. My axels are useless without Cathy being able to do them. A pairs skater doesn’t jump. The requirements in pairs are all about lifts, and I’m getting really rusty. I’m working on jumps just to keep up my motivation. Lifting you yesterday was the first one I’ve done since.... Cathy’s accident.” Quatre blushed delicately, moving closer to Trowa to avoid hallway-collisions, “I’m sorry you had to do that. I can’t believe I pushed myself that far. I hope my weight didn’t hurt you-“ “Hurt me? Are you kidding, Quat!” Trowa cut him off with a deep laugh, “It’s what I’m trained for! I do weights to be able to lift Cathy, and she’s a lot more top-heavy then you. And believe me, you were an easy lift. You don’t fight it or wiggle in the grip. You knew how to move your legs and arms without weakening my grip with twisting. You were actually quite good at being lifted. You know what you’re doing.” Quatre grinned, “Yep. I was taught prima ballet, Trowa. And a big part is lifting too, although I’m supposed to be the lift-er, not lift-ee in Ballet. I was never really good at it, to be honest. That’s why I took up pointe instead of sticking to demi-pointe and working on lifts like men usually do in the sport. I was trained in a modernized Cirassian style. It’s like the Georgian style of men’s ballet of balancing on the knuckles of the toes,” Trowa hissed appreciatively at the idea, and Quatre nodded gravely. “But thankfully the style was changed to the tips instead. It’s not a very popular style, but it works for me. I was one of the few dancers in the world specializing in it...until the accident, of course. I dabbled in highland dance as well, which involves men’s pointe without looking so girly, but I prefer the whole-body movement of ballet. Anyway, I know how lifts work intimately, and well, I’m teeny! I used to get picked up all the time! I was the smallest person in my whole family until my first nieces were born. Even my cousin used to lift me continuously for practice. I guess I got the feel for it, and I just love it! Almost as much as spinning!” Quatre finished with a silly grin. They were outside Quatre’s first class now, and still holding hands, neither wanting to leave. Another student flew into the classroom, filling up the second last empty seat. Quatre leaned up and gave Trowa a quick peck to the cheek, then scampered into his class with a bright blush and a grin. The music stopped, and Trowa took off down the hall like a bat out of hell to try and beat the tardy bell. Trowa was out on the rink before anyone else again. He was just a pro at getting his skates on and tied in less then a heartbeat while the rest of the class tried to figure out which side the guards came off from. Needless to say he was already through four or five quick warm up circuits before the next person wobbled onto the ice and the coach turned on the little radio for mood. A few more students followed and then Quatre was on the ice and moving confidently towards Trowa. The fact that the blonde had slid on the sweater that proudly showed Trowa’s claim on him brought a slow curling smile to Trowa’s face. “You look great.” He said, and Quatre did. After the re-introduction to the ice Trowa had given him all weekend, Quatre was moving elegantly and strong across the ice on his own, doing a few turns and twists and following Trowa’s example of the backwards circuit- looking over his shoulder to make sure he didn’t hit anyone. Trowa moved in behind him quickly, reaching out to gently lay his hand on Quatre’s waist and moved with him. They both synced to the music and started to move in time, Quatre leaning against Trowa’s hand for the wide turns of the rink. Quatre’s eyes were closed and his breathing soft as they moved around the ice, the air flying through his hair and the music flowing through him. He missed dance, so much... But he tried. Oh lord, he tried. “Lift me” Quatre whispered, moving to grab Trowa’s hand tight in his. Trowa swept in, grabbing the other side of him and waiting for the perfect time. Quatre pushed off the ice, springing up into the air and locking his feet together, letting Trowa take him higher and higher. Trowa lifted him as high as his arms could, then turned abruptly, kicking up speed until he was whirling Quatre around in a perfectly straight spin. ~They sang to me this song of hope, and this is what
they said Quatre raised his arms high and laughed in delight, striking his arms into a perfect circle hold. Trowa had made him combine flying AND spinning, and Quatre was riding high on the sensation. He arched his arms delicately, and released them from the circle to fall gracefully to Trowa’s shoulders when he began to slow, making to transition back to the solid ice so easy that the two of them moved straight into a light drag, Quatre going one footed while Trowa pulled all his weight. Quatre was grinning like a fool, eyes shining in pure joy. Trowa pulled Quatre in closer, close enough to have the blonde’s heat melding with his. Eyes locked and hearts beating in time, the two of them gravitated even closer, wanted nothing more than to taste those lips. “LINE UP!” the coach’s voice boomed, followed by a shrill whistle, “Suicides, everyone!” He demanded with fervor undermined by his flaming red blush. Trowa and Quatre separated to take their spot in line, grinning sideways at each other the whole time. “We make a good pair,” Trowa whispered under his breath.
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