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"Wish Upon a Star "Written By: Waterliliylf Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. All rights
remain with Bandai, Sotsu and associated parties. No profit being
made here. Rating: R Warnings: sap, angst, fluff, AU Pairings: 3x4 Summary: When you wish upon a star, it makes no
difference who you are, unless you're the heir to the Winner business
empire. So when you do find a means of escape, how long can you hold
on to the fantasy, and the man of your dreams, before reality takes
over? "Wish Upon a Star "
Lazy Sunday: It was a dream and he didn't want to have to wake up. Anything that felt this good had to be a dream. A gentle hand was stroking his hair, stirring his bangs gently and smoothing them off his forehead. He was not going to wake up; not going to open his eyes, and be back in that vast, empty bed in his suite at the hotel, with Iria or one of her assistants standing over him with the day's schedule. 'Cat?' His lashes, despite themselves, fluttered open. He might imagine anything else, but that voice had to be real. Trowa was real. 'Where am I?' Quatre muttered confusedly, trying to make sense of his surroundings, and why Trowa seemed to be looking at him upside down. It actually took a minute to figure that he was still on the couch, but his head was in Trowa's lap. 'I must have fallen asleep! I never fall asleep during the day.' 'Well, first time for everything,' Trowa chuckled. 'I guess you were more tired than you thought. It wasn't very flattering though; we were making out and then suddenly you just flopped fast asleep. You're just lucky I don't have any major insecurity issues.' 'Oh, God,' Quatre dragged one arm across his eyes. 'I didn't really, did I? I'm so sorry!' 'Relax.' Those green eyes gleamed with mischief. 'Just teasing. I couldn't resist. I was downstairs with Duo for nearly half an hour; when I came back up, you'd crashed.' 'Wow. I've never done anything like that. I remember lying here and watching the rain and I suppose I dozed off. I'm really sorry.' 'Stop apologising,' Trowa said easily. 'You obviously needed the rest, and I'd been feeling guilty for leaving Duo with all the work. This way, you got a nap, I got to help out a bit in the shop. All good.' 'Mmm. I'm all rested now.' Quatre tipped his head back, smiling up at the other man. This was all so lovely. There was sunlight pouring in through the windows, and Trowa's body felt warm and solid and blessedly real against him. 'If there was anything you wanted to…talk about, we could do that.' 'Sorry, Cat.' Trowa bent down and kissed the smile. 'I think we should take a rain-check for now. It's nearly one o'clock; I have to open the shop at two and I'd rather not be watching the clock when I finally get to take you to bed.' 'So what time do you close then?' Quatre stretched luxuriously, ending up curled against Trowa. 'On Sunday? Six. But I've asked Duo to come back for the last couple of hours. He's already got plans to meet someone for lunch, or I'd have asked him to stay for the whole afternoon. Talking of lunch, would you like something to eat? It's stopped raining; we could go up on the roof for a bit.' 'That would be nice. Can I help?' 'Sure. I thought I'd just make a salad, and warm up some of the bread we got. We have all those pastries for dessert. That OK?' 'Perfect.' Preparing lunch together was very pleasant; cosy and domestic and unlike anything Quatre had ever experienced before. He cooked with Heero sometimes, in his friend's small kitchen, but Heero had his own system of doing things and Quatre usually ended up being assigned a couple of simple tasks, just to keep him out of the way. It was much more fun in Trowa's kitchen, stepping around each other to get to the knife drawer or the fridge or the sink offered all sorts of opportunities for a little intimacy. The roof terrace, which he hadn't really noticed before was lovely too. In addition to a couple of wooden benches and a swing seat, there were pots of herbs and flowers and a white cat dozing in a patch of sunlight. 'I didn't know you had a cat! What's her name? Is she friendly? Can I touch her?' Quatre put the tray he was carrying down and held out one hand to stroke the soft, snowy fur. 'She's very friendly, her name's Mallow, and I actually have two cats. Sophie's really shy though; you'll probably just see a streak of black fur and that'll be it.' He pulled out a chair. 'Come and eat. You can put her on your lap if you want.' 'Really? I'd love to hold her.' Mallow snuggled happily against him, her little body throbbing with purrs at the contact. Just the way Quatre felt when Trowa held him. 'This place is so lovely. How long have you lived here?' 'I've been running the shop for nearly four years. My aunt used to own it, and my sister and I used to come here for holidays when we were kids.' 'Didn't you live in Sanque when you were a child then?' Quatre broke off a piece of buttered bread and wolfed it down, surprised at how hungry he suddenly felt. 'Part of the time. Our parents worked for a travelling circus, so we moved around a lot. It always felt like being home, when we came here.' 'Really? A circus? Was that fun?' 'Some parts, yeah. I liked the animals, but I hated packing up and moving on all the time. Whenever you made friends with someone, either they left or you did. I think that's why Cathy and I are so close; we pretty much had to be friends. D'you get on with your sister? Iria, was it?' Quatre shrugged. 'Mostly. I wouldn't say we're friends exactly; she's almost fifteen years older and she's more like my mother. My other sisters are all married, and my father's been ill for a long time, so Iria's really all I've got. I think we'd get on better if she didn't treat me like a six year old.' 'That's elder sisters for you,' Trowa said easily. 'Cathy's only a couple of years older, but she loves bossing me around.' 'What does she do?' It was so much easier to talk about Trowa's family than his own, and he wanted to know all about him anyway. 'She's a teacher. She's got a little girl, Eleanor. You'll meet them both tomorrow. Cathy doesn't finish work 'til five, so Ellie usually comes here for a couple of hours after school, and then Cath picks her up.' 'I'd like to meet them both.' Quatre drizzed a little more olive oil on his salad. It was shattering, the way Trowa said this sort of thing so casually. He'd never dare to introduce a boyfriend to any of his family, and Trowa was treating it like the most natural thing in the world. Trowa had taken him into his home, his life, apparently without a second's thoughts, and Quatre had done nothing but deceive him. Well, that was going to change. He'd tell Trowa who he really was, once they had time and privacy, and Trowa could decide if he wanted to throw him out. 'You're being very quiet,' Trowa nudged his leg under the table. 'Is everything all right?' Quatre pressed back. 'It's fine. All a little hard to believe, that's all. I didn't even know you existed twenty four hours ago, and now you're talking about introducing me to your family.' 'Too fast?' Trowa asked perceptively. 'Don't worry, I'll just say you're a friend.' He winked. 'Not that Cathy'll believe me for one second.' 'Oh?' The blond shifted uncomfortably in his seat, getting a disapproving look from the cat on his knee. What was that supposed to mean; that Trowa made a habit bringing home strangers and letting them meet his family? 'Why not?' 'She's a smart girl. I'm sure the fact that I can't keep my hands off this gorgeous blond guy will clue her in.' His smile faded as he studied Quatre's face. 'Oh, right. I get you. No, for the record, I don't normally take guys I've just picked up home to meet my sister and my nine year old niece.' 'You don't really know me.' Quatre took a mouthful of salad. Trowa had said that one sentence so easily – guys I've picked up – as if it was a regular thing for him, and it hurt, somehow. Was he just the latest in a long line who got brought home and fed and then dismissed? Don't think about that. He wasn't any better himself, anyway. 'No, but I'm starting to.' Trowa grinned. 'What; d'you have some deep, dark secret you have to share with me? In a movie, now, you'd turn out to be a secret agent or something, hiding out from the bad guys.' 'Well, I'm definitely not a secret agent.' Quatre chewed a mouthful of bread. This would be the perfect time to admit who he actually was; but the shop was due to open and he needed time to explain. He'd wait. Just another couple of hours until Duo came back to watch the shop. It wasn't so very bad anyway; he wasn't a criminal or anything. And maybe Trowa would still treat him like a normal person. 'I think you've been watching too much TV.' 'Mm, you could be right. Maybe I need a nice blond to keep me occupied instead. And talking of occupations, we'd better head downstairs.' The dishes ended up being stacked in the sink to wash later, something Heero would never have allowed, but Trowa said was fine. instead, Quatre took his time putting away the leftover food, stacking it neatly in the fridge. 'Hey. You don't have to come down to the shop if you'd rather stay up here. You can take a book on to the roof terrace and sunbathe for a bit.' That was tempting. Very tempting. The thought of meeting Duo again made him just a bit nervous, and then there would be customers in the shop, looking at him; the way strangers always did, with that hideous mix of speculation and resentment and envy. No; they looked at Quatre Raberba Winner like that. Not Cat. The people in the bakery and the newsagent had just shown mild curiosity about Trowa's new friend, and had probably wondered how he'd got the bruising on his face. Even Duo had been mostly friendly, but obviously very curious about the guy his friend had brought home. Maybe that was a good sign; maybe it showed Trowa didn't make a habit of having strangers in his bed. Maybe. 'I'd like to see your shop.' Quatre touched one finger to his cheek, and tried to make a joke about it. 'You don't think I'll scare your customers off, looking like this?' 'My customers are tougher than that.' Trowa said it softly, reaching out to touch him, gentle as the brush of a cat's whiskers. 'You don't look that awful, I swear.' 'OK.' Quatre took a deep breath. 'Once I'm not going to give children nightmares or anything like that.' Trowa snorted, drawing Quatre into his arms. 'You could never give anyone nightmares. Dreams, yeah. All sorts of dreams.' 'Dreams,' Quatre echoed. 'You're not a dream, are you? When I woke up earlier, well, before I woke up properly, I thought maybe I'd dreamt you, dreamt all of this.' 'I'm not a dream, Cat. I'll prove it.' Quatre squeaked as one hand ran over the curve of his bottom and then pinched lightly. 'See? Perfectly real. Now come on. Some of us have work to do.' 'Oh, here's the slave-driver in person, come to crack the whip,' Duo grumbled as they walked through the door, winking at Quatre to show he wasn't serious. 'You know, Barton, in this country they have unions to stop this sort of exploitation.' 'Ignore him,' Trowa said firmly. 'It's so hard to get good help these days.' Quatre was ignoring both of them, by then, gazing around the shop. It was nothing like any shop he'd ever been in before. There were a couple of low, comfortable couches in one corner, and a small fireplace; another seating area by the counter was furnished with beanbags. Of course, there were books everywhere, but what had first caught his attention were the paintings on the wall. Dragons and mystical creatures and circus performers jostled for space on every spare inch of wall space. 'This is amazing. I've never seen anything like this. Never.' He ran one finger down the scaly neck of a scarlet-and-gold dragon, almost expecting the creature to move. 'Who painted these?' 'Yours truly,' Duo looked pleased at the comment. 'You really like them?' 'I love them. I didn't know you were an artist.' 'That's 'cause I'm not. I just do this stuff for fun.' Trowa rolled his eyes at his friend. 'He's being far too modest, Cat. He's done a few commissions for other shops on the street, and he's done some book illustrations as well.' 'It's no big deal,' Duo said, shrugging. 'Listen, I better go. See you guys at about four? Have fun.' 'What can I do?' Trowa laughed. 'Seriously, you don't have to help. You're supposed to be on holiday. Why don't you find a book to read and a place to sit? You can go and look at my bookshelves upstairs if nothing here grabs you. 'I remember this author from when I was a child.' Quatre pulled out a Narnia anthology. 'I loved 'The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.' I hadn't realised there was a series. May I borrow this one?' 'Knock yourself out.' Trowa looked amused at his enthusiasm, and then turned away to deal with his first customers; two young teenage boys. Quatre curled up on one of the beanbags, which offered a nice view of the counter, and the man standing beside it, and started to leaf through his book, admiring the illustrations. It was, however, more tempting just to watch Trowa. He was taking books off the shelves for his two young customers, talking to them earnestly, and they were beaming back at him. There were a few other people in the shop, happily browsing the shelves or leaving through a book they'd found. It was all a world away – in every sense –from his life on L4. Even the lady standing by the counter with her daughter seemed quite happy to wait for Trowa's attention. Without bothering to think about it, Quatre, jumped up, placing his book carefully on the floor and walked over. He had offered to help, after all and Trowa was busy. 'Good afternoon, may I help you?' he asked politely, and abruptly realising that he probably couldn't. He didn't even know how the books were arranged, or how to operate the cash register or anything. The woman smiled at him. 'Do you have the new Artemis Fowl book in yet? Trowa said he was expecting them in yesterday.' Artemis Fowl? What on Earth was that? 'Can you wait a moment? I'll just check.' Trowa, who was bent over some sort of graphic novels with the boys, grinned at the question. 'I've got a new assistant, have I? There should be some on the table by the door; if not, there's a whole boxful just inside the stockroom. Would you mind putting some out if they're all gone?' 'No problem.' Quatre collected an armful of the glittering hardbacks, and handed one to his customer. 'I'm sorry, I don't know how to work the till yet. Do you mind waiting for Trowa?' 'Not in the least.' The lady gave the book to her daughter and leaned comfortably against the counter. 'I'm Marion and my daughter's Polly; we're in here all the time, so you'll get to know us. Is today your first day? Trowa never said he was hiring a new assistant.' 'Oh, I don't work here, I'm just a friend.' 'Well, it's lovely to meet you.' She gave him a rather knowing smile, and a wink before turning to Trowa and handing her book over. 'Thanks, Cat. You know, you don't have to help. You're supposed to be having a lazy day.' 'It's all right. I like just being here. Honestly, I'd like to help out.' 'In that case, you're officially hired for the rest of the afternoon. The pay's not great, and you'll have to sleep with the boss, but there are lots of perks.' 'What are the perks?' 'Discounted books. Oh, and the whole sleeping with the boss thing. That's non-negotiable.' 'I wasn't planning to negotiate it. I was rather counting on it.' Quatre peeked coyly up through his lashes. 'You keep surprising me, you know that. If you don't mind, there a few more boxes of books in the stockroom that need to be put on the shelves.' Trowa closed the door behind them and backed Quatre against the wall. 'This is another condition of employment; whenever I get you alone in a room, I'm going to do something like this.' 'Trowa!' Quatre was scarlet when he was finally released, his lips were tingling from being crushed against Trowa's and he just wanted to do it again. 'Quatre,' Trowa deadpanned. 'Word of advice; look at me like that again and you know exactly what'll happen. Now, quick, tell me three things about yourself.' 'I play the violin, I love Italian food, and I've always wanted to visit Egypt.' 'Full of surprises, just like I said,' Trowa said softly, peeking around the door. 'OK, time to get back to work. We've got customers waiting.' 'Duo was right; you are a slave-driver.' 'Yep.' Trowa looked positively smug at the description, ringing up a selection of books and handing them to Quatre to place in a bag. As the customer walked off, he leaned down to whisper in Quatre's ear. 'In bed and out of bed. You'll find that out later.' 'Trowa!' Quatre was several shades of scarlet as he walked off to attend to a woman who was juggling a stack of books along with a baby and a toddler's hand. The next hour was busy but utterly enjoyable. A few more regular customers introduced themselves and everyone was so friendly. It was fun working with Trowa as well. When they had a few moments to spare, they talked books and compared favourite authors. The only drawback was that there wasn't any time to visit the stockroom again, and Quatre was starting to feel that regular kisses from Trowa were becoming a necessary part of life. Accordingly, he waited until there was a lull in business. There were customers, but they seemed to be regulars whom Trowa had greeted by name, and they seemed happily occupied in browsing. 'Mr. Barton,' he asked formally, trying to look serious 'I wonder if you could you please come into the stockroom for a minute? I have a little problem I need your help with.' 'What's the problem, Cat?' Trowa was half-smiling, but he looked just a little concerned as well. 'It's exactly fifty eight minutes since you last kissed me.' Quatre tried to sound hopelessly downcast about it. 'I thought my conditions of employment were supposed to include regular trips to the stockroom for making out. Isn't there some sort of law that says I have to get a minimum number of breaks?' 'I think maybe you didn't read the fine print.' Trowa stepped closer, one arm on Quatre's hip, the other cradling the back of his head. 'If the shop is really busy, breaks may be cancelled at the owner's discretion. In that case, the employee will receive overtime benefits.' 'Also at the owner's discretion?' Quatre let his lashes flutter closed. He was loving this. Loving Trowa's fingers stroking his neck, and the hand resting on his hip, rubbing slow circles, and every now and then slipping under his waistband. 'At the mutual discretion of management and staff, I would imagine. Now; time to stop talking for a minute, hmmm? You look like you very badly need to be kissed.' 'Oh, I do,' Quatre assured him definitely. 'More than anything.' Trowa touched his mouth with one fingertip, drawing a gentle little caress along his bottom lip, smiling when Quatre's tongue darted out to give his a swift lick. The kiss was a sweet meeting of soft, pliant flesh; a promise of delights to come. 'No,' Quatre was begging when Trowa slowly pulled away. 'Please. Trowa.' 'You've very demanding for the hired help,' Trowa mock-grumbled. 'Patience, now. Once Duo gets here, I'm going to drag you up the stairs and ravish you 'til you beg for mercy.' 'Mercy,' Quatre whispered at once, adjusting his – Duo's – jeans, and wishing he was wearing a less fitted shirt. 'Yeah, just like that.' The hand on Quatre's hipped slipped in a southerly direction, palming the very definite bulge between his legs. 'Oh, yeah.' Just when Quatre thought he would die – explode- spontaneously combust from sheer overload of sensations, Trowa's tongue slipped into his ear. 'I'm going to screw you cross-eyed later, baby, but right now we've got to go and sell children's books. Move your ass.' The door to the stockroom opened just before they reached it, and a broadly-grinning Duo walked in. 'Do you guys remotely care that there's a queue of customers out there? Nope, didn't think so. Plus the most gorgeous guy I've ever seen with the most killer blue eyes is out there looking for Cat.' ~ * ~ Note: The Narnia Chronicles are, of course, written
by CS Lewis. The Artemis Fowl books, by Eoin Colfer, feature an Irish
teenage boy who happens to be a criminal genius. ~ * ~ |
