Horseless Carriage
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. I'm just playing around with a few characters.
Summary: When Quatre proposed to Dorothy, he promised to show her true love; however, Dorothy is a difficult woman to convince, and she doesn't believe in love. Het 4xD... I know it's weird. One-shot.
Warning: Shounen ai hints (shrugs). You can't expect me to quit 'cold turkey'. Though, I'm not really planning to quit.
Note: Blame this story on a complete lack of creativity for my other works.
Note II: Also blame it on my curiosity to dive into the 'other side'.
Note III: Just don't blame me.
He stood eye to eye, a look of sincere conviction sparkling in his ocean eyes. His gaze was almost enough to melt the ice in hers. "Can you repeat that?" she asked in an accusatory voice, despite the insecurity that knotted her guts. This man, with his perfection, his strong spirit, and his purity just asked her to...
"Will you marry me, Dorothy?" he requested in a voice softer than before. Yet, there was so much passion underneath his request. She couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped.
It had been six years since their ill-fated fight; since then they'd had little contact. She could count nine reunion parties off the top of her head, several impersonal functions, and a few chance meetings. However, their relationship had no chance to develop beyond friendly acquaintances. Then, from the mist of their ambiguous relationship, he arrives on her front step, stays for dinner, and asks her to spend the rest of her life with him. Did she ever mention how much she admired his guts? Not many men would make such a bold claim without sweating all over her clean carpet.
She scrutinized him; he stood with his business face on. No one could resist that open smile, or those strong yet soft eyes. She witnessed many business deals crumble with that look. Quatre Winner was a force to be reckoned with. He was the business equivalent of Michael, the avenging angel. She even heard small comments from associates about the 'Angel--Faced--Winner'. An average woman would be labeled crazy if she refused such a promising man.
"No thank you," she answered as flatly as if declining a refill for her drink. She was never very average, anyway.
"Then I have no other choice but to ask until you accept. Dorothy, there is no other woman I would rather spend my life with," he said with a small smile on his face.
She smirked, "I suppose she would have to be some woman for you to concede to marrying her. I would like to meet the woman you choose after I refuse you enough times to wear down even your optimism."
"I hate to disappoint you, Miss Catalonia--and I use that name lightly--but nothing can wear me down," he retorted. The man took a bow before waving a farewell.
"Goodbye, Mr. Winner," she replied.
She hoped that would be the last she heard of the subject. She should have known better. Good to his word, the man revisited her the next week with the same proposition on his upturned lips. She dismissed him in the same callous manner, but not before offering him a cup of coffee; manners still needed to be respected. The next week yielded the same results, and this ritual of theirs dragged on for a month.
After the fourth refusal, curiosity beckoned the blonde woman to ask, "Why don't you kneel and offer me a ring. Isn't that the traditional way to persuade a woman into matrimony?"
"I don't believe you could respect a man who would meekly 'kneel' down to you, or worse, tradition," he replied. Quatre knew her far more than she gave him credit for. Of course, she could blame his empathy or even the Zero System.
She accepted his answer and told him, "I will see you next week."
"Same time, same place," he quipped. The man hung out with Duo Maxwell far too much.
After her meeting, she retired to the patio. The blonde yearned for some much needed fresh air. The evening wind touched her heated skin. Her shoes came off. One toe latched under the heel of the sandal and popped it off easily, and she repeated the same task with her other foot. She kicked the shoes as far away from her as possible. Bare foot, she watched the setting sun.
"Why," she asked no one in particular. She couldn't understand Quatre's infatuation with her. Did he honestly believe himself to be in love? That had to be it; he never struck her as the type to toss proclamations around so casually.
If she wed the L4 colony representative, then she would most likely have to move to the colonies. That was something she couldn't bare to do. The thought of living in a controlled sterile environment irritated her extremely. She loved the instability of Earth--being able to walk outside in a sun dress without knowing it was going to rain, and then running into the house soaking wet, but exhilarated from the small surprise. She would even miss the mosquitoes. Dorothy slapped her forearm when she felt a small itch... Maybe not the mosquitoes.
She retraced her train of thought. Moving to the colonies wasn't even an option; she wasn't going to marry Quatre Winner, and she wasn't going to let him love her. His feelings of attachment and attraction would just have to disappear, because there was no room for delusions of love in her enlightened lifestyle. It was really was nothing but a concept to civilize the instinctive urge to procreate. It didn't exist in her world, and she would make Mr. Winner understand.
Her next trial arrived in seven days. As always, she invited him in with the strictest manners. She choose the arena for their little discussion. She believed herself most in her element when surrounded by untamed nature, so she led him out to the patio. One could look for miles in her backyard and only see stretches of grassland speckled with trees and bushes.
After one sip of his iced tea, he asked her, "How do you feel about my proposal today?" Of course, he had that open expression that neither expected a refusal nor hoped for a positive answer.
She parried, "Why do you want to marry me, Mr. Winner?"
"Because I love you more than any other woman," he answered with no hesitation.
"Please, explain love to me," Dorothy prodded. She was pleased to see his confused expression. What kind of woman asked for the definition of love?
His quick mind rallied a response, "Love is the feeling you get when you are with the person that you esteem beyond all others." Dorothy almost sighed in relief. At least, he didn't feed her some poetic smut. One point, Quatre.
The questions continued, "Why do you... love me Quatre. Be honest."
"Maybe because I hold you in higher regards than anyone," he replied with honesty.
She reached across the table to pull the glass container of tea towards her. While she filled her cup, she wondered, "What is it exactly about me that you esteem?"
The even-tempered Arab (1) replied, "You're strong, intelligent, and kind."
"Only you would say that," she interrupted.
"Do I have to mention how elegantly beautiful you are? You shine from an internal strength that is rivaled by very other few women," he continued.
With a pale hand under her chin, she mocked, "You wound me Quatre. Are you saying I'm not The Most special creature in the world. I would like to know these few women that rival me." She succeeded in humoring her 'lunch date'. He laughed with innocent abandonment.
"Did I ever mention that you have the driest sense of humor next to Heero?" he told her between laughs.
A few moments of silence followed the breaking ice. Serious eyes lifted to hers while he explained, "This is my last week on Earth before my colony demands my attention once again. I will repeat my previous question, 'Can I have your hand in marriage?'"
"What does marriage offer me that I already don't have," she questioned him.
"Love."
It was her turn to laugh. However, she was very slightly amused. "I don't believe love exists. I've seen too much of this world to believe such an innocent dream."
"What would you say if I could convince you love existed? If you marry me, I will show you what true love really means," he argued passionately.
"Then it's a challenge," she observed with a raised eyebrow. He shook his head at her blunt description of his request. "You honestly think you can make me believe, without a doubt, that love exists?"
"Without a doubt," he assured. "What I'm offering isn't that intimidating: commitment, affection, and unconditional love."
"Maybe to you it's not intimidating," she retorted.
He sighed before informing, "I won't lie to you Dorothy. My colony is very traditional; I am being pressured from every group of society to marry and set an example for the people. However, that is not the only reason I requested your hand. I never once believed that marriage was the inevitable claim to love. If I were to marry, it would be with a woman I admire and respect. You are my first and only choice. I have no desire to pursue any other woman."
"Such bold statements. What if I desired another man?" she rebutted.
"Then I would win your heart from that man," he claimed.
With another drink of tea, she informed him, "That was hypothetical."
"I know," he answers with a smile. "Dorothy, give me one chance; five years to prove that love exists."
"How can you be so self-assured that I will accept your offer?" she questioned softly.
"Because I know that you want to feel what it's like. You have an insatiable urge to immerse yourself in every aspect of life..., even if it hurts you. You want to at least experience it, don't you? You want to feel love, even if you're scared that you will become reliant on those feelings," he said while gazing into her eyes. His expression was more piercing than soft.
She responded with more uncertainty, "If I were to marry you, I would have to leave Earth." He shook his head.
"I've been meaning to move to Earth once I tie up some loose ends in space," he informed her.
"If I were to marry anyone... I suppose I could do worse, but Mr. Winner, I demand satisfaction from this union," she conceded with a little hostility.
His eyes fell a little in grief, "Dorothy, I don't want you to enter this partnership if you're this unwilling."
"It's no big deal," she assured. "It's not like I believe in the sanctity of marriage. Our relationship will begin and end on paper, nothing more. I will convince you love is idealistic and a foolish pursuit. Besides, I hear divorce is all the rage."
A nervous smile appeared briefly on Quatre's face. "I suppose there's always that."
When Dorothy reminisced about that time five years ago, she never regretted her decision. Granted, she believed that she could have been perfectly happy single. However, married life wasn't that bad. Her husband stayed true to his word, and broke up Winner Enterprise into smaller corporations in order to stay on Earth as an official peace ambassador for the colonies; he worked diligently, and he couldn't have asked for a more supportive wife. Ironically, Relena Darlian simultaneously broke all connections on Earth and moved to the colonies.
Saturdays were one of Dorothy's favorite days. Quatre was home all day..., so after a very friendly relaxing session of heavy sex, he retired to the patio. Yes, he was the one who moved in with her. Their marriage ritual, and actual wedding, were very professional. Both her and Quatre negotiated the terms of marriage with lawyers and power-point slides. They both signed a contract of mutual agreement that hung framed in the living room. Quatre affectionately called it the Thirty Six Commandments of Dorothy. One of the commandments was that she decided upon the living conditions. Though, Quatre was allowed to decorate, because she really abhorred the task.
Did Quatre ever convince her that love existed?
The merry whistling of Beethoven's Filth interrupted her musings. He walked past her with an opened blue dress shirt and tight jeans with a stack of papers under his arms. "Why are you so cheery?" she teased. Truthfully, she was sated as well. However, Quatre acted like the sky was raining liquid happiness.
"No reason," he replied with a small smile while sliding the glass door to the patio. She watched him slouch into the recliner and pick up the first document. A smile played on his lips, a cup of coffee was secure in his hands. He was doing the thing he hated most, tying up a week's worth of negotiations, so why was he so cheerful?
Every once in a while he would get in the most joyful mood. It didn't take Dorothy five years to put together this odd phenomenon. This mood always predicted a certain visit. The front bell rang, and she lazily strolled to the oak door. She opened it wide open to be greeted by a very good friend.
When drawing up living arrangements, Quatre completely forgot to mention that he came equipped with a best friend. Conveniently, Trowa Barton and Catherine Bloom's circus troop toured her own country. Because of Quatre, she became quick friends with the siblings. Admittedly, she got along better with Trowa..., well because he wasn't the blabbering type. Catherine was sweet, gentle, and a little spicy; however, she loved to chat while Dorothy preferred to converse.
She wasn't at all surprised to see the performer that day. It was a natural ritual. When Quatre got into one of his good moods, that meant Trowa was coming over. At first, she was perplexed how the blond could sense him before he arrived. Then she reminded herself that he was an empath.
Conversely, if Quatre had a terrible day, and was sulking all over the house, Trowa would pay a surprise visit and usually brought a house gift or something to cheer the blond up. This connection perplexed Dorothy even more. As far as she knew, Trowa was born on Earth and possessed no new type abilities. It wasn't until much later that she grasped this odd connection.
"On the patio," she told the tall male. He nodded his head and handed her an 8x10 box. When she peeked inside, a couple dozen poverones (2) came into view. She watched Trowa's retreating figure and wondered, not for the first time, if he knew that her husband had been complaining about the lack of sweets, or if it was only coincidence.
She followed the green-eyed man until she met the sliding glass panels. She leaned against the near invisible separator and contented to watch the two. They'd grown accustomed to her small habit and never spared her a second glance.
She watched as the taller man leaned over her blond and read the document that he was so absorbed in. Then Trowa dropped the small Spanish desert between Quatre and the papers and chuckled when he jumped slightly in shock. She smiled as her husband pretended to level a glare at the circus performer while taking a small bite out of the powdered treat.
Watching them interact was one of her favorite pastimes. They seamlessly communicated with each other without a word spoken between them. She could blame the empathy on that as well; however, that completely ignored Trowa's ability to read her husband's emotions like a book.
Whenever the acrobat visited, Quatre's attention was completely monopolized. That was okay with Dorothy. It was her chance to immerge herself in some 'me time'. When she called him 'Needy', she meant it. When at home, the blond was practically sewn to her side. He loved to connect and share the same space as her. Though, sometimes she really needed some free air. More often than not the man suddenly found a slipper launched at his face. It also irritated Dorothy when her slipper technique failed. Quatre Winner was persistent and tenacious, but that was what made him a good politician. It was times like those that she fantasized about still being single.
She wondered if Trowa was dating again. For a while he was going through women like hair gel.
Trowa reached over and grabbed the blond's coveted coffee. He should have known better than that. He got smacked upside the head with a rolled up paper.
The mood changed solemn, and Dorothy recognized it for what it was. Trowa rested his forehand on his hands and began to speak slowly and quietly. This ritual was all to familiar for Dorothy and Quatre. Another girl had dumped him, because she just couldn't understand him.
Her lips moved simultaneously with Quatre's, as she whispered, "Trowa, I'm so sorry."
Trowa responded and Dorothy mimed, "I just don't know what I'm doing wrong."
She knew that Quatre would assure, "It isn't your fault at all Trowa. You have so much to offer, and one day someone will see you as the most precious person in the world." Then her husband gave him that perfect smile which she rarely saw. It was a smile reserved only for Trowa, and this simple tug of the lips was enough to brighten Trowa's eyes. Dorothy found the mood contagious. Though, she never shared her soul like those two did.
Her skin still tingled from their love-making session. Quatre was possibly the most passionate person in the world, and his empathy allowed him to be the most thorough lover. Not every woman could claim that they climaxed every single time. Sometimes, she would be disappointed if she only came once. Physical intimacy was very strong in their relationship, but she would give one night of great sex to have that special smile directed at her. She didn't think her man would understand, and she did well to hide those negative feelings from his empathy.
She watched Trowa's sage like eyes stare at the blond. Once again she mimed, "If only I could find a woman who was like you." Quatre chuckle, and she knew he would retort with something cute and witty.
Suddenly, she felt like she was an intruder. Their relationship was something sacred, and she wasn't needed at the moment.
She never did admit to Quatre whether she believed him or not. Did love exist? She spared a glance at the two souls on her patio. Of course it did. She also never admitted that she wasn't upset for being wrong. Dorothy was content to be the bystander to something she truly believed to be the most beautiful bond she had ever seen.
Yes, she owned Quatre Winner's body and most of his possessions, but Trowa owned his soul. It was a shame they didn't know that... "Humph, men."
The End
(1) If you're still reading, this is a personal pet peeve of mine. I've mentioned it once in another story, but every time I see Quatre referred to as 'Arabian', I cringe. Any person you meet is 'Arab'. I hate to shove political correctness in everyone's face, but that is wrong..., or as my father said, "Arabian is a horse." If you're feeling really authentic, Quatre would call himself 'Arabic'.
(2) Poverones or Spanish Wedding Cakes. If you haven't tried them, I pity you. They're made several different ways; however, the texture is always the same, and they're almost always rolled in powdered sugar. They're more like a dense, lumpy cookie than a cake.
I'm a firm believer in separating romance from sex from marriage. Those three don't automatically go hand and hand. I just had a small thought swimming in my head that separated a physical relationship from a romantic one. I always was a firm believer in soul mates...; however, I made both Quatre and Trowa straight in this story. Is this a form of self-torture? Not really. I'm weird in the sense that as long as my star couple can retain their deep bond, I can place them in a different sexual relationship (though I prefer them together). My only qualm with other straight stories is that the author is so focused on nothing but a romantic/sexual relationship, that they ignore Quatre and Trowa's empathetic relationship (romantic or otherwise). Now I'm beginning to ramble.
I actually didn't intend for it to end with Quatre and Trowa's connection. However, it's impossible for me to leave Trowa out of Quatre's life, and it's impossible for me to write about them without observing their empathetic link.
On a different note: I hate to brag, but I am very amazed about my own portrayal of Quatre and Dorothy's relationship. Don't let the story fool you; they have a very healthy relationship. Their marriage is balanced between contentment, a little discourse, and passion. Though, they lack the inseperable emotional bond that I look for in my spot-light couples: Hige & Blue, Rossette and Chrno, Tsusuki & Hisoka, Haruka & Michura, Quatre & Trowa, and Chihiro & Kohaku... Wow, out of all the couples only two were male x male. I need to turn in my 'shounen ai' badge.
I realize this story is very bitter-sweet for both 4xD and 3x4 enthusiasts. Whether you were rooting for Dorothy and Quatre's relationship to evolve into love, or hoping that Quatre and Trowa would realize their feelings..., I hope this story has severely emotionally frustrated you. Hey! I have never claimed I wasn't evil. It's finished, and will never be continued. Feel free to come up with your own conclusions how it would progress
Why the long notes? I invited you into the madness of my mind..., it would be rude not to provide a road map..