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"25 Days of Gundam Wing"Written By: The Plotting Housewife Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sotsu
and associated Parties. This work is written for pleasure not profit. Rating: PG Warnings: humor, fluff. Pairings: Trowa/Quatre (if you squint) Summary: Quatre is recovering in the hospital after being stabbed by Dorothy. He takes up knitting to keep boredom at bay. He’s absolutely terrible at it, but Trowa doesn’t have the heart to tell him. Prompt: Sweaters "25 Days of Gundam Wing " Chapter 1: Sweaters Trowa sighed as he set yet another disfigured wool sweater aside. The thing was just godawful. Were those supposed to be stripes? They looked more like a chevron gone horribly awry. Shaking his head, Trowa folded, or tried to fold the knitted monstrosity and placed it in a box along with the other four. Those were equally terrible. Ever since Quatre had been stabbed by Dorothy Catalonia during the battle of Libra, he’d been going stir crazy. The tiny blond boy was a type A personality. He always needed to be doing something. And languishing away in a hospital bed was not conducive to an active mind and body such as Quatre’s. He was practically climbing the walls after three days. Relena suggested, and Trowa wanted to throttle her for it now, Quatre take up a hobby, such as knitting, to keep himself busy while he recovered. She’d gone out the next day and purchased dozens of rolls of yarn, a pair of knitting needles, and several patterns. She’d spent the rest of the day showing him the basics from the most common types of stitches to casting on and off. Quatre took to it like a lifeline and whenever Trowa visited him, he’d find the blond in deep concentration, frown lines between his eyes. His little pink tongue poked out between his teeth as his knitting needles clacked away at some brightly colored endeavor. He apparently had no sense of color coordination because he would combine the most clashing, migraine-inducing hues. Trowa would normally have no problem with this little obsession of his, except that Quatre decided to start knitting sweaters. Rather, they were ugly, horrific abominations that dared to call themselves sweaters. And Trowa was the unfortunate recipient of these garish gifts. They came to him in boxes of cheerily wrapped paper and by the fifth time the delivery guy showed up on his doorstep, Trowa just wanted to slam the door in his face. This morning it seemed Quatre had really outdone himself. Really, was he doing this on purpose? How could someone so brilliant make something so appalling? Trowa picked the offensive thing up again and glared at it. It was so misshapen, it could hardly pass for human apparel. One sleeve was ridiculously longer than the other. Honestly, whose arm is that long? The midsection was extremely short. Trowa wagered if he put it on, the ragged hem would rest about four inches above his navel. Not that he was going to put it on. He wouldn’t be caught dead in any of these hideous eyesores. And what the hell was even supposed to be on the front? A reindeer? It was a brown blob, somewhat centered between its sleeves, with black squiggly lines branching out the top, and white, black, and red spots that he assumed were the eyes and nose. He snorted. Poor Rudolph just couldn’t catch a break. His vid phone suddenly beeped and he reached over to flick the switch, silently groaning Quatre’s bright eyes grinned sunnily at him. Now it was time pretend he loved his newest gift and that was getting more difficult as the days wore on. “Morning, Trowa! Did you get my gift?” “Er…yes. Thank you.” The blond beamed. “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow! I have another surprise for you. I’ll see you then,” he chirped, sounding eerily like a songbird and then the screen went dark as he cut the connection. That does it. I’m telling him tomorrow. Those big sad eyes are not going to get to me. This is for the good of all humanity.
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