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"In The Rain"Written By: Zazu Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing, nor do I
own the characters. I have borrowed them here for some fun and creativity,
and this is not for profit. I do, however, own the plot mentioned
here, and any instances that you may find similar to real life events
are purely a coincidence. All of the characters depicted in this story
are adults. Rating: PG 13 Warnings: angst Pairings: 3+4+3 Summary: For thejennabides, who requested Trowa/Quatre
with rain. "In The Rain"
“Trowa-” “Quatre, when will you understand that I don’t like it when they clean up after me like this?” Trowa gestured to his desk where things were piled neatly in stacks that he couldn’t understand. “Every time they do it, I have to reorganize my documents.”
“I know, but they’re my staff and they have been since…I can’t just fire them all now.”
“Then why can’t you tell them to stop treating me like they treat you? You’re their master, not me! Nor do I want to be!”
Quatre stepped back, mouth opening and then closing as Trowa shuffled his documents about, rearranging his things in his own way. “I’ve told them to leave your desk-”
“Then obviously you need to make them listen to you.”
He wanted Trowa to be his equal in the household. Quatre knew that Trowa had balked at the idea of living in the large mansion with the staff and it had taken a lot of persuasion on Quatre’s part to convince Trowa to live there. The mansion had been a gift from his father, and that he could only honor his father by living in it. The staff, most of whom had served him since he was a child, were a part of the gift and Quatre didn’t want to fire them for any reason.
He and Trowa were together; they were partners, lovers, and the equal heads of the household.
At least, that was what he meant for them to be. Trowa had made it clear that it wasn’t what he wanted.
“Then why can’t you tell them to stop treating me like they treat you? You’re their master, not me! Nor do I want to be!”
Rain dripped into his eyes. Everything had suddenly gone so wrong. How could he fix it?
There was a sound in the distance, running footsteps. War instincts made Quatre slip out of sight behind a tree, even though logically he knew he would be safe on his own property.
Trowa appeared, wearing a rain jacket although the hood had long since fallen off, leaving his head just as wet as Quatre’s. He paused, looking around, breathing heavily.
“Quatre!” he shouted. “Damn it!” he cursed softly. “Where are you?”
The last words were a whisper and Trowa began to move again. Quatre came out then, coming forward and wrapping his arms around Trowa, his forehead against his lover’s chest.
“I’m sorry, Trowa,” Quatre blurted. “Please, I can’t fire them but I’ll talk to them again.”
Trowa was struggling, trying to push him away, so Quatre tightened his hold. “Please, Trowa, we’ll move out, anywhere you like, any house you like!” He tried to keep his tears back. “We won’t keep any helpers or anything.”
Quatre knew he sounded desperate and needy, but he would do anything to salvage the relationship he so treasured with Trowa. It had taken them a while to get together after the war and he didn’t want something so little to hurt them.
“Damn it, Quatre.” Trowa said softly. “You’re soaked and frozen!”
Of course, he would only be making Trowa cold, just as holding Trowa made him warm. “I’m sorry,” he said, immediately letting go. To his surprise, Trowa quickly undid his raincoat, opening it wide to pull Quatre close. The blond resisted, but Trowa had the strength and leverage and wrapped Quatre in against his chest.
“I’ll get you soaked, Trowa!”
“Quatre, I’m sorry,” Trowa said, just loud enough to be heard over the rain. “I know the house was a gift from your father and that these people have been here taking care of you since you were born. I know how much it means to you to live here, and…I blew it out of proportion. I didn’t mean to, I was just so frustrated with how some of my things were moved without my permission.”
Quatre nodded, wrapping his arms tight around Trowa underneath the raincoat. “I’ll make them stop. I’ll make them listen to me.”
“I didn’t mean to imply that you’re not a good master, Quatre, because you are probably the best of them all. I just…I’m not a good master, okay? I’m not used to asking people to do things, ordering people around. I’m used to being ordered around.”
“I understand.” Quatre closed his eyes. “Trowa, I meant it, if you want to move I’ll go anywhere-”
“I know,” Trowa said. “And I mean it when I say that I don’t want to be anywhere but here.”
“Honest?” Quatre pulled back to look at Trowa. The taller man cupped his cheek, hand warm against cold skin. Trowa nodded and Quatre sighed, relieved that the argument hadn’t hurt their relationship.
“Now, let’s get you inside,” Trowa said softly. “You’re cold, you’re soaked.”
“You…can you ask someone to run me a hot bath?” Quatre whispered.
“No,” Trowa said. “I want to be the one to take care of you. Please let me, Quatre.”
Quatre nodded and allowed his tall lover to guide him home. - END -
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