Hmm...it's 2 am at my side of the world and I can't believe how truly and utterly bored I am. I really should get some sleep, I guess.
Well, this is the result from me being bored. Oh and BTW, please don't take this ficlet too seriously (I didn't when I wrote it). I'm just having a little fun with Quatre and Trowa's cotton candied lives.
Quatre: As the head of the Winner family, I highly object to you posting
Mika: *about to click mouse button*
Quatre: NOO~~! *stares at MLers* Whatever she wrote, it isn't true!! None of it!!!!
Trowa: *nod nod*
Disclaimers: Not mine. I'm making no money.
Warnings (to ease some of Quatre's pain): Quatre is completely and the most OOC he can ever be. Ahem. Trowa too...somewhat.
by a bored and disturbed Mika
"Quatre, come to bed."
"Just one more second, Trowa. I'll be right there!"
Trowa meticulously began to arrange the large plush pillows on the bed and settled himself against them. Folding his hands lightly on his lap, he waited.
Tonight would be the night that both he and Quatre had waited... well...waited for quite some time now. With the war going on, there weren't many free moments for them to spend some "quiet time" together. But with the end of the war and with peace to boot, they'd now have the rest of their lives to spend together.
So, not wanting to waste any time, they got hitched at Vegas only seven days after White Fang had disbanded. True, it wasn't the most romantic of weddings, but Quatre didn't really want the big wedding, etc, etc and what Quatre wanted, Trowa wanted. Besides, how many people can say that Elvis played at their wedding AND married them for only the low, low price of $29.95?
So here they were, in one of the finest hotels Las Vegas had to offer.
As he waited, Trowa took a look about the room. His eyes fell on to a remote control resting on the nightstand to his left. Figuring that with nothing else to do, a little television would have to do for the moment.
Pointing the remote at the TV sitting across the room, he pushed a red button, and the strangest thing happened.
The room dimmed and a disco ball slowly descended out of the ceiling, spinning and sparkling bits of light around the room. Oh, and the bed began to vibrate too.
Interest piqued, Trowa pushed another button, the blue one.
A creaking sound brought his attentions to the left and he watched as the large cabinet doors began to open, revealing the various usual objects necessary in the newlywed's suite. Velvet lined handcuffs, whips, silk scarves, chocolate syrup, some green Jell-O mix, blind folds, etc, etc.
Nodding his head in satisfaction to the room they received, Trowa dared and pushed the final button. The green one.
He heard a faint rumbling sound and glanced all across the room, but couldn't find its origin. Finally, he looked up...and blinked, as his reflection did in return.
A large mirror was situated above his head on the ceiling.
'Nice touch.' Trowa thought and went under the covers, settling his head deep into the pillows. He closed his eyes for a moment, picturing beautiful blue eyes, an angelic shaped face and silken golden hair. He sighed contently. He couldn't be any happier. After all that has happened in his life, it seemed that everything was worth it, if only it were for this blissful lifestyle he would now have with his love.
Yes, everything was looking up for Trowa Barton.
The bathroom door finally opened, a bit roughly so that it caused Trowa to open his green eyes, but nonetheless, it opened.
Steam filtered out of the small room and the HeavyArms pilot watched as a figure loomed in its mist, slowly nearing him. Trowa smiled for once, pushing himself upright again. His smile faltered slightly, however. Yes, he recognized his better half quite easily through the steam. His small form. His unmistakable platinum blonde hair. The only slight difference that caught him off guard was the black attire the Winner heir was clad in. As the fog dissipated, the words on the t-shirt could be clearly read.
"Zero System. The /only/ way to pilot a Gundam"
Trowa blinked once at the shirt, before looking up at his love's face. Quatre smiled, crawling onto the bed. He placed both his arms on opposite ends of the part time clown and bent down, kissing him lightly on the lips. Trowa let his eyes fall shut and returned the gesture.
"Sorry, I took so long, koi."
Trowa shook his head lightly. "It's quite all right." He opened his eyes to stare into depthless blu--brown eyes??! Trowa moved back slightly, unable to move his eyes.
Noticing the fixed gaze, Quatre blinked before his eyes widened a bit in understanding. "Oh, that's right. I had to take out my colored contacts. I really don't mind having brown eyes, but people have always said that I looked better with blue eyes."
Green eyes did not waver and Quatre bowed his head a little. "Y-You don't love me any less, do you, Trowa? I would have told you. Really. But there was never any time. I can go sleep on the couch if you don't want to look at--"
Gentle fingers were placed over his lips, silencing him. Trowa looked at him apologetically. "No, no, my love. I was only surprised is all. I love you no matter what eye color you have."
Quatre beamed, embracing the one beneath him tightly and burying his head into green pajamas.
Trowa smiled, running his a hand softly over silky blonde...brown rooted locks?! Trowa's hand froze immediately, mouth gaping open.
Realizing once again that something was amidst, Quatre raised his head and gazed into widened green eyes.
Quatre blinked. "Yes, Trowa?"
"Why do you have brown roots?"
"Your hair...it's brown."
Trowa nodded numbly, as Quatre sat up, and began looking about the room for a mirror. Trowa mechanically pointed up and the "supposed" blonde complied and looked up at his reflection. Trowa watched as the other began fingering clumps of blonde hair.
"The box said it would last three weeks..." was the faint murmur.
Trowa did all he could to prevent a choke from escaping his lips.
Quatre sighed and placed his hands down onto his lap, his attention facing the one beneath him once more. "Um...I look horrid with brown hair?" the Winner boy offered weakly.
Blu-er, brown eyes welled up with unshed tears and Quatre buried his head in his hands. "G-Gomen, Trowa! You must be so disappointed. I'm not the angel you thought I was. I'll understand if you want to divorce me--" At this point, the boy bawled.
Trowa sat, shocked to say the least and slowly and hesitantly raised both his arms to hold the sobbing teen. "There, there. Please don't cry Quatre. I love you for you. Not for you eye color, your hair color, or your bedroom attire..."
Quatre sniffled into the already moist fabric of Trowa's nightshirt. "R-Really?"
"I'M SO HAPPY~~!!" Quatre cried louder, wrapping his arms more tightly around the already squirming Trowa.
After a while, Quatre finally let him ago, scrubbing his eyes with closed fists. Once he was done, he sat with a determined look on his face. "Trowa. I don't want any other surprises like these to happen between us. So, I'll tell you everything now, so you'll never be surprised again."
Trowa backed away. "...There's more?"
Quatre nodded firmly.
"All right." Once that was said, Quatre opened his mouth.
"Your tongue is pierced."
Quatre snapped his mouth shut and shook his head in affirmation. "I had it done a couple of years ago to rebel against my father. We weren't at very good terms for a long time and..." he waved his hands trying to find the words. "...this happened."
Trowa barely listened to the explanation, looking pointedly at his hands and thinking. 'How could I miss that? It was right there! We've frenched...'
The HeavyArms pilot looked up, though very hesitantly.
"Okay, let's see...what else...well, I guess you should know. I hate my sisters. Yes, yes, it may have seemed like I adored them quite dearly, but it's all an act. I know it, they know it. It's all a show for the media. We can't have a prestigious family like ours known for its bickering members. No, that wouldn't do. So we put up a front. It works quite well. I don't bother them if need be and they don't bother me. Speaking of bothering, and annoying to add. I'm not all too fond of our "Queen Relena". Actually, to be honest, I'm not too fond of many people. There's Howard, Rashid, Abdul, Dorothy *insert shudder*, my servants, Sally, Noin, Heero, Duo, Wufei..."
Three hours later...
"...Do you know *what* I had to go through with Heero those few weeks??! It was like trying to stop a time bomb from going off every five seconds. You'd think this 'perfect soldier' would know how to control these suicidal tendencies to a minimum to at least until Duo showed up! And my GOD--he wouldn't stop going on about Duo! Duo this..."
"...Duo that. Duo's braid--"
"--Duo, Duo, Du--oh, yes, Trowa?"
"I think that's enough for tonight. I'm...tired...and would like to get some sleep."
"Oh. Okay! We'll continue in the morning?"
"Okay!" Quatre bent down and kissed Trowa lightly on the nose before moving to his side of the bed. Once beneath the covers, Quatre wrapped his arms around Trowa's muscular body, and soon fell asleep.
In the darkness of the night with only the bit of illumination from the disco ball and stray lights streaming from the window, Trowa looked up at his reflection and shivered.
The End...*insert twilight zone music* Doo-doo doo doo, Doo-doo doo doo