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"Agglomeration"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: ntrospective, Humor, Fluff, Romance Pairings: 3x4 Summary: During a bout of insomnia, Quatre ponders
the nature of his nocturnal habit. "Eccentricities " The lab was quiet this time of night. The team of scientists, engineers, weapons specialists, and mechanics that swarmed the place throughout the day were gone, back to their bunkers to sleep until dawn. Quatre relished the peace, the tranquil silence in the giant, sterile room. The low auxiliary lights so different from the bright florescent ones they used during the day. The only sounds were the faint hum of machinery and the steady drip, drip from a small leak in the ceiling on the far end, impossible to hear during the loud, bustling activity of what he commonly referred to as “business hours”. It had been raining for over a week solid and he was amazed that there was only a tiny roof leak to show for it. He remembered their old lab, the one he and Trowa had started out in seventeen years ago. They’d gotten a deal on the place, the reason for which they discovered soon after. It had been built on a low-lying floodplain due to zoning violations. He’d woken up one morning after a day of heavy thunderstorms and swung his legs out of bed only to wind up ankle deep in flood waters. That was their first real lesson about the importance of doing thorough research when looking to buy real estate. They’d lost an estimated thirty million in structural and equipment damage. Quatre had been so relieved that he’d remembered to keep his insurance policies up to date and he kept meticulous records of everything in a way that bordered on obsessive. That day, it paid off and after teasing him about it for years, Trowa humbly conceded its merit. After that flood, Quatre decided to donate the property to a nonprofit nature preserve organization and paid for the building’s demolition. To this day, the area was a fertile and vibrant wetland home to thousands of species of plants and animals. It was a significant monetary loss, but the gain was far more valuable than anything that could ever be written down on paper. Occupying the lab in the middle of the night was a habitual nocturnal activity, first initiated in their old lab and it had stayed with him ever since. As a chronic insomnia sufferer who’d tried his share of treatments including therapy, hypnosis, acupuncture, and finally, pharmaceuticals which never seemed to work, Quatre found that retreating here was the only thing that offered solace. While there was nothing better than the safety and warmth of Trowa’s arms, Quatre felt terrible about keeping him up at night and had learned to quietly slip out without disturbing him. There was just something so different about being in the lab at night. It wasn’t something he could put his finger on, but he often likened it to the atmosphere of a department store long after closing hours. With the dim lights, the hum of computers, and the eerie void of people, the lab seemed to take on a whole new life of its own. Like toys in a toy store suddenly taking a breath, jumping from their display shelves, and playing the whole night through without the oppressive, prying eyes of their human creators and consumers. It was something Quatre felt privileged to bear witness to. Like he was somewhere he should not be, in some alternate flip side of time. Entire dimensions of existence that lay beyond the reflective surface of a mirror. Or, at least that was how he liked to think of it. Even when running WEI, the grueling days that stretched into the early morning hours when he finally locked up his office at two in the morning, long after everyone else had gone home, he’d felt a strange sort of thrill as he walked down the darkened, empty corridors, greeted only by the faint beep of alarms on standby and the low rumble of vending machines. He would often imagine the snacks in the machine impatiently waiting for him to call it a day so that they could come to life and do…whatever it was that processed snack food did when humans weren’t looking. It was such an odd thought to entertain, he wondered on many a sleepless night if he was the only person in the world who considered such things. Trowa was the only one who knew about it. Shortly after they’d established a monogamous relationship, he’d surprised Quatre with an impromptu date to a wine and fondue bar. Having never had more than a few sips of champagne at his sister’s wedding, the two glasses of chardonnay he’d had went right to his head. Tipsy on fermented grapes, he drunkenly confessed his “deepest and darkest secret” by slurring it against Trowa’s chest and giggling like an idiot. The following morning, he was convinced that he’d destroyed everything, believing Trowa now saw him as a delusional flake and would walk out of his life again with that stupid brown bag over his shoulder just like the first time they met. He was prepared to unleash a full litany of excuses and apologies the moment Trowa opened his eyes in the hopes that he could at least have a chance to explain himself before the other man performed his magnificent disappearing act. His attempts to redeem himself were interrupted mid-sentence as Trowa kissed him quiet and then made love to him again while beams of morning sunlight streamed in through the window and warmed their bare legs. Trowa reassured him with whispered words and gentle caresses that Quatre had nothing to worry about; he wasn’t going anywhere. Later that morning, he admitted over a breakfast of blueberry and banana pancakes, that he thought Quatre’s idiosyncrasy was “quirky and adorable.” Even now, twenty years later, Trowa would wake up in the morning with a bright smile and ask him if he’d witnessed any “laboratory mischief”. “I’m pretty sure the old saying, “A watched kettle never boils,” also applies to lab equipment.” Quatre grinned, but didn’t turn around as he heard the soft, amused voice of his lover behind him. “You do realize that’s an old wives tale, don’t you? Watched kettles do indeed boil. It’s simple chemistry.” Trowa pressed up against his back and closed big hands over his shoulders. “What are you doing up?” “Nature called. Noticed you were gone.” “Hmmm…and you knew exactly where I was.” “Elementary, my dear,” Trowa murmured and kissed the top of his head. “Don’t you think after twenty years, I would know you well enough by now?” Quatre chuckled and leaned back against his chest, savoring the powerful arms that folded around him. “I would say you know me too well.” “You can never know someone too well. Or, at least I can never know too much about you. It’s not possible.” “Why’s that?” “You fascinate me.” Trowa grinned as Quatre let out a bark of laughter. “I’m serious. You always have. Learning more about you is like opening a gift. A gift that keeps on giving.” “Flatterer,” Quatre chided, lifting Trowa’s hand to his mouth and pressing kisses over his palm. “So I don’t bore you?” “You could never bore me.” “No? Not even thirty, forty years from now when we’re all wrinkled and crusty and you’ve found out everything there is to know about me?” “If I ever did know everything about you, I would spend the rest of my days lamenting the fact that I know everything about you.” Quatre doubled over in a fit of hysterical laughter, slapping the table in front of him and holding his side when it began to ache. He wiped tears from his eyes and tipped his head back to look at his lover. “You are so ridiculous and sappy, you know that?” Trowa gave him an upside down grin. “Not as ridiculous as believing corn chips and chocolate bars come to life in the middle of the night.” Quatre playfully swatted his hand. “Oh, come on now. If I actually believed that, don’t you think I would be setting up surveillance cameras in front of every vending machine in town?” “Maybe you already did that. Maybe you tried it, but the cheese puffs and fruity chews were onto you which forced you to give up trying to prove your theory. And you never told anyone about it except for one anonymous post that you submitted to Believe Me, Or Bust dot com.” “Now you’re just making me sound like a nutcase.” “With, or without carmel?” Quatre shot him a dark look and stood up, pushing his chair against his desk. “It’s caramel. Anyway, how did I fall in love with such a snarky bastard?” “Admit it. You love snarky bastards. They are your number five turn on.” “And what are my first four turn on’s?” Trowa gave him a smarmy wink. “Come back to bed with me and we’ll find out together.” “We’ve been together for twenty years. You haven’t figured them out by now?” Trowa wrapped an arm around him as they headed out the door. “Every time with you is like the first time.” “You really need to stop reading Catherine’s Harlequin romance novels.”
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