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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: R Warnings: Fluff, Schmoop. Pairings: Trowa/Quatre. Summary: Trowa and Quatre enjoy a quiet Christmas at home. Prompt: Hearth "25 Days of Gundam Wing " Chapter 21: Hearth Scented cinnamon and pine candles filled the house with a comforting bouquet of spicy sweetness, underlined by earthy spruce. The glow from the candlelight added to the warm and cozy ambiance of the fireplace and the strings of twinkling Christmas lights wrapped around the large Douglas fur in the corner as well as the ropes of evergreen draped over the arching windows and across the mantle. Quatre stared shamelessly at the glorious sight of his lover's firm backside as Trowa bent down to stoke the fire with a poker. It was the kind of ass you could bounce a quarter off of and Quatre knew this for a fact because he'd tried it on more than one occasion. The first time was out of sheer curiosity. After that, he insisted it was only to make sure Trowa wasn't slacking on his regimen of strenuous workouts designed to keep up his powerful physique. It was for science and a genuine concern for his lover's health. Yep. They'd been invited to Relena Darlian's annual Christmas party that night, but politely declined in favor of spending the holiday at home this year with a promise that they would attend next Christmas Eve. It was frigid cold outside and the snowstorm was fast approaching blizzard conditions which only reaffirmed that they'd made the right decision. It was the kind of weather that was best spent indoors in front of a roaring fire with a glass of wine and the one you love. For Quatre, it didn't get any better than that. They were cooking Christmas dinner together. A meal of turkey, stuffing, potatoes, roasted vegetables, and cranberries. They managed to work around each other in the kitchen despite the occasional tight squeeze and giggled like idiots every time they bumped into one another. They snatched morsels from the other's work spaces, stole sweet kisses, and sipped wine until heads were fuzzy and cheeks pinked. The buzz of the timer interrupted Quatre's ogling and he gave Trowa's upturned ass a hearty slap on his way to the kitchen. The tall brunette murmured a, "Hey, now," and playfully poked him with the tongs. In the kitchen, Quatre flicked the timer off and opened the oven door, turning his face away at the blast of heat. Slipping mitts over his hands, he pulled out the roasting pan, heavy with a golden brown turkey. Careful so as not to spill the swirling juices, he slid it on top of the stove and quickly grabbed the casserole dish filled with stuffing. He pushed it into the oven, closing the door and wiping a bead of sweat from his brow with his sleeve. Muscled arms slid around him from behind and Quatre leaned into the embrace, sighing contentedly. "I'm so glad we decided to stay home." Trowa turned him around, his expression uncertain. "Are you sure? You're not just saying that, are you?" Surprised by his love's change in demeanor, Quatre cupped his face and whispered, "Of course not. Parties are fun and all, but there's nowhere else I'd rather be on Christmas than at home and no one I'd rather be with than you." He pulled Trowa's head down and pressed a lingering kiss against his mouth. Trowa returned it, squeezing him tightly before leaning back and smiling down at him. "I'm glad. I just didn't want to bore you to death." "Trowa! How could you ever think that?" He lovingly caressed a chiseled cheekbone with the backs of his fingers. "You're the most important person in my life. I love you and I love spending time with you." Beautiful forest green eyes lit up with such joy, it nearly hurt Quatre's heart. "I love you, too. I'm happy we decided to stay home." Quatre pecked the tip of his nose. "It's perfect. I can't think of a more perfect way to spend the holiday." They loaded their plates with piles of comfort food and refilled their glasses with a spiced Zinfandel. Skipping the formal dining room, they opted for the living room where they cuddled together on the plush sofa with their legs tucked beneath them. Quatre pressed a slice of turkey against Trowa's lips, laughing as he bit down with a soft growl. "You're an idiot." "Takes one to know one." After supper, they returned their dishes back to the kitchen where Trowa quickly washed them up and set them in the drying rack while Quatre fixed them a couple of spiked coffees, topping them both with an abundance of whipped cream. Full from the hearty meal, they laid on the couch with a fuzzy throw over their legs, delightfully languid and buzzed. Trowa stretched out behind him and held him against his chest as they watched the snow fall and relaxed to the soft sounds of tinkling music, harmonized by the howling winds outside. Drowsy with food, drink, and love, they basked in the warmth and comfort of each other. "Merry Christmas, Trowa." "Same to you, baby."
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