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"Thunderstorms"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: Sap, Slice of Life Pairings: 3x4 Summary: Quatre can't seem to guess what Trowa
is thinking, but he always seems to know exactly what he is feeling. "Thunderstorms"
But he was safe, inside. The den was cozy, warm and with a plush couch and soft blankets strewn on the chairs. It made the place feel... Soft. But what made the place wonderful was Quatre, sitting on that couch with a journal in his hands and a pen tapping the tip of the page. He wasn't writing. Hadn't in a few minutes, ever since Trowa got up to stare out the window. Quatre was watching him, as if he was trying to see into his head. That brought a smirk to Trowa's face. Quatre was always saying he had no idea what went on in his head, but the truth was that Quatre seemed to ALWAYS know what was going on in Trowa's heart-- and that was more important as far as Trowa was concerned. "Penny for your thoughts?" Quatre asked softly, his voice matching the room. Pew Pew Pew. The drops continued to strike the glass. "When I was little, I used to be afraid of Thunderstorms" Trowa said, expressing whatever came to mind. He often surprised himself by what came out. Quatre lifted a brow, "Really?" he seemed charmed by the idea. He was probably visualizing Trowa as a tiny child, hiding behind his mother's leg or something similarly adorable. Trowa walked over to the couch again, leaving the window. "I was afraid that the lightning would hit the Mobile Suits" he said, sitting down beside Quatre and taking a sip of the wine he'd left half-drank. "I used to sleep inside them. They conduct electricity, naturally." Quatre's face hardened. He put the book down, and he crawled over to Trowa. He slid between Trowa's legs and then laid himself against Trowa's chest. He didn't say a word, just laid there, in his arms, and began to write in his journal again. Trowa found himself smiling, and slowly began to run his fingers through Quatre's hair. Like always; He may not have known what he was thinking, but he knew what he was feeling. And what he needed. With Quatre around, Trowa had nothing left to fear. ~ * ~
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