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"Short blond hair and Long Legs"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: AU, Vampire Trowa, child Q. Death of
Q’s mother. Playing with the gendered spelling of 'blond' Pairings: 3x4 Summary: Hungry for dinner, Trowa follows a waitress
home and finds something else he was looking for. "Short blond hair and Long Legs" Trowa licked one delicate fang, looking over his prey. A very beautiful blonde. Short hair and long legs. Very pretty. Too bad he wasn’t into girls, or he might have wanted to have a little fun with this one before he made her blood his dinner. She was dead now, quite dead in fact. Cold. Trowa sat beside her, discomforted on her bed. It was old, with hard springs and sagging spots. His own bed was far more luxurious than this, but then again, being as powerful as he was had its advantages- he simply took what he wanted when he wanted it and if anyone tried to stop him? He snacked. His prey tonight had been...interesting. She was on the street with that desperate look in her eyes as she tried to get to her destination quickly, as if knowing a predator was on the loose. Trowa usually went for street walkers, but this lovely thing was classier than that. But her Gucci coat was on its last legs and her blouse had a button missing. She was a waitress at a fancy bar downtown, Trowa came to discover as he followed her, and if he guessed right, she had come from a good family... a good family that deserted her now. She amused him... flicking her blonde hair and laughing and carousing... but behind her eyes he could see a deep depression. She longed for death. She longed to be free from her circumstance... Trowa flashed a few hundred dollar bills and suddenly he was invited to her home. He took her in the bedroom and let her take off her blouse, and then he bit her neck. Simple as that. She barely even fought. And now she was dead, and Trowa took a few moments to play with her hair... such a pretty blonde. Too bad she wasn’t a boy... Trowa had a fondness for boys. Especially blonds. He liked to keep them around in his house. Liked to look at them, cherish them, play with them... Sometimes he turned them, sometimes he ate them... “Momma?” a small voice said from the hall. Trowa’s eyes flicked up, his lip pulling back in a hiss, a warning to stay away. He’d have to kill the child if she saw. “Momma? You feel cold...” the voice said again, a hiccup of upset in the tiny, girlish voice. But the words made Trowa stop. How could the child feel? They were not in the room... “Momma?!” The voice pleaded again, coming closer to the bedroom now, little feet slamming on the cheap linoleum floor of the crappy apartment and then, then a child burst through the door, eyes already tearing. She- no, he- was very small, making Trowa think that the boy was perhaps 6 or 7 and he ran to the bed and held his mother’s cold, dead hand, seeming to ignore the presence of her killer right beside her. Was the boy daft? After a few moments (and Trowa didn’t want to leave. The situation was just so very odd that he was interested) the boy looked up at him with bright blue eyes... He was gorgeous... Young, yet, but he would grow to be something breathtaking, Trowa could tell. “Trowa?” the boy said with a tremble in his voice, scared, and he held his dead mother’s hand tight. Taken aback, Trowa narrowed his eyes, “How would a child know that?” “I dreamt of you,” he responded, his voice still small, trembling, but his eyes were clear and sure, “I dream a lot of things. I knew Momma wouldn't come home tonight... I’m going to stay with you now, aren’t I?” Trowa licked one delicate fang... looking over his prey.
A very beautiful blond. Short hair and long legs. Very pretty. Too
young for his tastes right away... but as Trowa grabbed him in his
arms and went out the front door carrying his new toy, he thought
to himself... Only time would tell if he would choose to change this
one of feast on his blood. He wondered if the blond dreamt the answer
to that, since he clung to his chest, laying his face on Trowa's shoudler
and fell asleep comfortably.
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