|
"X O"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: fluff Pairings: 3x4 Summary: Trowa and Quatre’s first meeting
under the table of the grown-up’s Christmas party. "X O" The adults were everywhere, and since each and every person on the planet seemed to be wearing red that night it was almost impossible to tell one from the other. Quatre had not been complaining earlier, when he went off to sample the gingerbread cookies and apple and cinnamon tea the hostess was giving everyone. Quatre had taken one sip and then asked for a pop instead…if it wasn’t too much of a bother, of course. (As he had been taught.) He was delighted to get a 7-up with a little red candy cane inside, its purpose to turn the clear drink pink and give it a cherry taste as it melted. But Quatre was bored now and he was hoping his mother was doing something interesting. But Quatre only remembered that she had worn a red dress with little white shoes and snowflake earrings. And the last five times Quatre had run up to a lady wearing a red dress with little white shoes thinking it was his mother he caught up only to find a stranger looking down at him. Admitting defeat and deciding to stay by the goodies, knowing his mother would eventually come and find him, Quatre sat himself against the table’s leg and snapped off the arm of a gingerbread man. “You sat on the Corner Square.” Quatre jumped at the deadpan voice right behind his ear and whipped around. There, hidden from adult view by the holly-print paper tablecloth, crouched a boy not much older then Quatre. Unlike everyone else (Quatre included with his red sweatshirt with reindeer print) the boy was wearing a green turtleneck that highlighted the most intent forest eyes Quatre had ever seen. The boy pointedly looked down to where Quatre had sat himself and noticed a graffiti of X and O boards colored on the floor with washable blue crayon. Quatre was sitting on one of the furthest and, as he could see by its unfinished state, the current board. “Sorry. Are you playing by yourself?” Quatre asked, looking intently for the O player (because this boy was clearly an X person if even Quatre saw one, of course). The boy shrugged, “there’s no one interesting out there to play with.” He answered morosely, and sadly turned a bit to the side to mark out another board and calling off his one sided game-in-progress on account of Quatre’s bum. Quatre shuffled a little closer and watched as the boy carefully considered whether to block himself in the corner spot or try for a line, hoping he wouldn’t notice the trap. It was way more interesting than the gingerbread man. (Although it was on par with the candy cane trick. Cherry 7-Up was a pretty exotic experience not to be taken lightly!) “May I play?” Quatre finally asked. As if he had been patiently waiting for him the whole time the other boy just rolled his eyes, “yeah, stupid. It’s your turn.” The boy handed the crayon over to Quatre and waited. Quatre was right. The other boy was an X person. “OH, TROWA! There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!” A teenager with bright red bobbing hair and spangled earrings shouted, her head peering under the table. She stood and addressed someone in white heels. “Is your boy a little blonde with a reindeer shirt? He’s with my brother.” She said. Before Quatre and Trowa knew it they were being scolded out from under the table (thankfully Quatre’s mother hadn’t got a look at what they did to the floor) and were forced to stay close the rest of the night. Quatre turned back to look at his friend, (it quickly registered that he hadn’t even asked him what his name was, nor did he give him his) and waved goodbye with a regretful smile. The boy turned and, with a little quirk of his stoic face, gave Quatre a gentle smile back. He had to stay at his mother’s side the rest of the night, but Quatre managed to use the crayon he had still been carrying to scribble on a candy cane print napkin and slip it to his new friend as his mom pulled him out the door: Quatre XOXOXOXO Looking at the napkin, its edges creased and frayed, Quatre placed the little napkin in a place of honor above his and Trowa’s christmas stockings. Twenty years had passed since he wrote that note, twenty years since the little boy had called him and asked if Quatre knew how to play checkers too, and Quatre still felt a smile light his face at seeing it. Trowa returned from the kitchen carrying mugs of coffee and handed one to Quatre. Instead of if the warm Columbian Roast he had been expecting, Quatre felt the cold little prickles of snapping fizz-bubbles and could smell the sweet tart of cherry. He smiled, dipping the cherry-flavored candy-cane into the 7-up a few more times expertly to measure the perfect flavor to pop ratio. He snapped the rest of the cane into his mouth and took another sip with a delighted smile. Trowa leaned in behind him, the taller built man having to bend to perch his head atop Quatre’s shoulder to see the little napkin hanging protected atop the mantle with a smile. Quatre dripped a little of his pop down the side of the mug, like he always did, and Trowa was prepared with a fresh napkin of his own making. Quatre took the napkin out of Trowa’s hand and
couldn’t help but melt into his husband’s waiting arms.
The little napkin was candy-cane print with a lone penned message:
“Love forever. XOXOXOXO”
|
