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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: Humor, Schmoop. Pairings: 3x4 Summary: Trowa and Quatre welcome the Winter Solstice in the desert. Prompt: Heat "25 Days of Gundam Wing " Chapter 22: Heat Winter arrived with a blast of record temperatures that scorched the Egyptian desert. Heat rose off the baked sandy dunes in waves that rippled and distorted images in the distance. Inside the Manguanac base, numerous fans were running full throttle, yet they still failed to significantly cool the stifling air. Earlier that afternoon, Quatre had dragged Trowa to his designated room for some privacy where they lounged together on the small bed. Their bodies were clad in nothing more than briefs, their skin slick with sweat. Not even the fan blowing a constant stream of air over them was enough to completely dry their perspiration. It was simply too hot to stop sweating long enough for it to properly do its job. Quatre lay on his back, pinned beneath the weight of his lover. He groaned in discomfort as Trowa’s body heat only exacerbated the oppressive condition of the room. He ignored it for as long as he could, but eventually, he was forced to break the heavy petting and making out. “Trowa, wait - stop. Please.” The man in question lifted his head, his brows furrowed with concern. “What’s wrong?” “It’s too hot,” he protested, wiggling out from beneath him. He stood up and angrily pushed sweat-dampened hair away from his face. “I know it’s the desert and all, but even the desert has winters.” He stepped up to the open window and peered through it, squinting and holding up a hand to protect his eyes from the blinding sun. “This is ridiculous.” Trowa turned onto his side and propped his head on his hand. “Aren’t you used to this?” He shot his lover an exasperated look. “No! I didn’t grow up in the desert, you know. The colonies have this nifty thing called climate control. You should know. You’re from one, too. Besides, who could ever get used to one hundred twenty degrees?” “One hundred seventeen.” He threw up his hands. “Oh, for - same difference!” Trowa swung his long legs over the side of the bed and sat up, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Well, look. It’s going to be hot no matter what. Why not just make the best of a miserable situation?” Quatre’s swollen mouth quirked. “Since when did you become so optimistic?” “It’s been happening a lot lately,” Trowa admitted with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “I have you to thank for that.” He smiled and turned from the window, suddenly launching himself at his lover, laughing as he toppled them both over onto the mattress. He straddled Trowa’s hips and leaned down, kissing him deeply, determined to take his advice and just make the best of it. Without warning, the door burst open, accompanied by a loud shriek. Acting on soldier instinct alone, Trowa rolled his body until Quatre was almost completely hidden behind him, shielding his near-nakedness from the intruder and yet not giving a second thought to his own. His muscles tensed as he poised himself for a fight, ready to spring into action at the slightest provocation. Abdul’s fez’d head appeared in the doorway, ever-present shades perched on his nose. He grinned toothily at the two boys on the bed and quipped, "Hot enough for you guys?" Quatre jumped up with a murderous glare and stomped towards the cackling prankster. “Abdul, you son of a -” “Later,” he shouted and booked a hasty retreat, whooping like a madman as he ran down the corridor. Quatre snarled and slammed the door shut. "I really need to think about installing some locks around here,” he muttered. “I’ll vouch for a guard dog,” Trowa added.
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