======================================================================
Waiting on a Promise
A Gundam Wing Christmas Fic
By Sefilin
======================================================================
Disclaimers: Shin Kidousenki Gundam Wing copyright Sunrise, Bandai,
Sotsu Agency
==========
Relena glanced out at the snow, spreading deep and soft for as
far as she could see. It lay heavily on the dark branches of the
evergreens that surrounded the small cabin and sparked golden under the
fading light of the sun and indigo in the shadows beneath the trees.
Before her spread a panorama of majestic mountains, tips painted purple
and pink, touched with the same gold that lay at her feet. A small
town was nestled in the valley below, lights already glittering in good
cheer. Above her the sky, mirroring the colour of the shadows beneath
the branches, was darkening, allowing the tiny silver pinpricks of
stars to appear. The moon, round and fat, seemed to be enjoying the
last few moments of its rest before beginning its night shift.
Altogether, it was a perfect evening for staring at the scenery from
the cosy cabin set snugly on the mountain.
She sighed and wrapped her arms more tightly about herself,
trying to keep warm as she stood on the porch, seeing less of the view
than she would have liked because her eyes were pinned on the break in
the trees that was the end of the long driveway. She didn't know how
long, exactly, she'd been standing there, but the sun had been much
higher in the sky then, keeping her warm enough in the fine cashmere
sweater and open coat she was wearing.
Saddened, she took a step backwards and folded herself onto the
floor of the porch under the window, slipping her arms around her knees
instead, and resting her chin on them. Still her gaze remained on the
tree break.
She was waiting, had been all day and even before that she'd been
waiting, although there had been no expectation of an arrival until
that morning. She'd been hoping that maybe he'd surprise her, and
arrive the evening before while she'd been sitting in front of the fire
listening to some of the jazz in his rather eclectic collection and
sipping at a glass of cider. He hadn't come, and though she'd been a
little disappointed, she hadn't really expected him then; his work kept
him busy.
Today, though, had been the beginning of his holidays and he was
supposed to leave first thing in the morning in order to get here by
lunch, but he hadn't arrived yet and it was getting dark. Already the
golden glow had faded and the silver of moonlight was beginning to
emerge instead. She'd called the apartment to make sure he'd left and
yes, she had been told he'd left as planned early that morning, he was
just going to stop by the office to drop something off before
continuing on. So she called the office, talked for long minutes to
some of her best friends who had told him that, yes, he'd left and
Merry Christmas.
She'd stared at the phone for a long time after that, hoping that
it would, indeed, be a Merry Christmas, but knowing it was dependant on
him. He had to be here, especially since it was their first Christmas
together as man and wife. They were going to start a tradition, he'd
claimed; no matter how busy they were in future, no matter how far one
or the other of them would have to travel, at least they'd spend
Christmas together. It was going to be a special family time,
especially when they had children. He'd grinned then as she blushed at
the thought and kissed her thoroughly, leaving her breathless -
something he could do effortlessly.
Brushing her bangs off her forehead, and smiling at the memory,
she turned her face to the sky, staring at the moon in the satin sky.
She loved that she now had those memories and that this marriage
promised that her collection would grow.
She hadn't known, when they'd first met, how utterly romantic her
husband could be and it had taken her by surprise to receive the tiny
suncrystal the day after their first date. Now it hung in the window
of her office, casting rainbows to dancing on days when the sun was but
a glimmer in the sky, and cheering her up almost as though he was there
himself. And he'd promised to give her rainbows on that first date,
promised her that no matter what sadness occurred, there would always
be a rainbow to follow and make things better. She hadn't expected him
to deliver so soon, but those rainbows had helped on many an occasion
when work got to be too much.
The best thing, she mused, about his romantic bent, was that it
was unpredictable. Not for him the usual expression of flowers, though
that didn't mean she didn't get flowers on occasion, but it was just as
likely for him to arrive at her office with a picnic and drag her to
the park. Or the gifts, a small sandalwood candle or a scribbled note
telling her, in one way or another, that she was cherished.
It made her feel guilty, sometimes, that she could never
reciprocate with as much creativity and she'd mentioned that once, when
he'd taken her to the ballet for their first anniversary as a couple,
then given her a tiny painting of a ballerina in a gilt frame that now
stood on her dressing table at home. He'd looked surprised, then
laughed, staring at her with such tenderness that she lost her ability
to think for a moment. He'd told her that the greatest gift she could
give him was to smile, to let him know that she enjoyed what he did for
her. That the only thing he ever wanted was to be loved, and she gave
him that unconditionally; how could he possibly give her enough to make
up for that? She'd smiled through tears and caught his face in her
hands, placing butterfly kisses on his eyelids, the tip of his nose,
then lingeringly on his mouth.
It was the first time she had told him, in words, that she loved
him. The smile she'd gotten for that effort had been enough to
convince her that for him, that was the most precious gift she could
give. So she gave it, telling him with word, gesture and touch that
she adored him.
That sense of wonder, that she loved him, had never waned in the
year they'd dated and the year they'd been married and Relena was still
awed by the fact that she could have such an effect on him.
She'd known him, before that, as strong, perhaps a little
insensitive and, because he never let anyone know how he really felt
about things, a bit shallow. His previous girlfriend, whom everyone
had thought was perfect for him because of the similarity in their
personalities hadn't been able to get past the barriers he had in
place. She'd said that he hadn't trusted her enough to give her more
than friendship, that there had never been true intimacy, even in bed.
Then she'd said that she was glad he'd found her, and, with a smile
full of nostalgia, that Relena could give him what he needed to open
up.
And she had to admit that he had. She'd learnt more about him in
the year before he proposed than she'd ever dreamed was held within his
slender body and quicksilver mind. He'd cried in her arms for friends
long gone and spent long hours telling her of his life, and she loved
him all the more for giving her that much of himself.
Not that they're weren't times when he only had the mask to show
her too; those times when he was too tired, feeling too vulnerable to
tell even her. Then there were the times when the mask became more
than a mask and then she was introduced to fun, on a scale she'd never,
ever known before - carnivals, clubs, parties, walking in the
mountains, dinner and dancing, playing in the park and driving fast
along country roads.
And each of his facets - the romantic, the child, the too
sensitive man, the clown - had at one time or another left her
completely breathless. She'd never had that happen before, even with
the childhood sweetheart she had thought was her one true love. Theirs
had been a quiet, comfortable relationship, but without the excitement
that gave this one the life it had.
She wished he was here, that she didn't have to sit here waiting
for him and worrying about if he was safe. He'd promised, though, and
he'd never broken a promise, so she would stay here, waiting and
remembering, until he arrived and they could put the tree up in time
for Christmas tomorrow and spend the night wrapped in each others arms.
==========
Drawing the car to a halt, Duo sighed deeply, hoping she wasn't
too worried or upset at the lateness of his arrival, which hadn't
entirely been his fault. After all, how was he to know that the
vehicle would somehow acquire a flat tyre in the middle of nowhere,
with the spare still to be replaced after a high-speed car chase the
other week? A few hours trudging through snow that had become sludge,
had brought him, exhausted, to a small town whose mechanic had driven
him back out and helped him change the tyre. Feeling obliged to thank
him for the beyond-the-call-of-duty actions, he'd bought a drink for
the mechanic that had dragged out into two, as the locals, not used to
strangers pausing there on their journeys, had been eager to talk.
Finally he'd managed to extricate himself from their well-meaning
hospitality by mentioning the fact that his wife was waiting for him
and that he rather thought he was running late. That had had the
unfortunate effect of making the townsfolk feel guilty for having kept
him so long and they'd given him a basket of Christmas mince pies and
sent him on his way. He'd left, watching them becoming smaller in the
rear-view mirror and wishing he'd been able to stay in the friendly
warmth a little longer. Weighed against his wife, though, the
attraction had paled and he'd accelerated, thinking that maybe both of
them could stop there for a little while on the way back to the city
after Christmas.
He'd been lucky he hadn't gone sliding off the road at the speed
he was driving, but a sudden need to see her had gripped him and he'd
spent the rest of the trip trying to remember the exact blue of her
eyes and knowing that his imagination wasn't doing them justice. It
never did.
He paused for a moment beside the 4WD and glanced at the dark
cabin, suddenly afraid of what he'd find. It wasn't like her to leave
everything dark like this; she was a creature of the light.
Stepping quickly forwards, he unholstered his gun and gripped it
firmly, watching carefully for any sign that the situation was bad.
There was no sound, no movement and his breath began to come faster as
fear-induced adrenaline rushed into his veins, producing a heat that
made him feel cold.
That his wife was such an important figure in the world was not
something he enjoyed. He was proud of her, of course, that she held
such responsibility without letting it weigh her down too far and
without allowing it to become power. But the danger she lived with
because of that position was something he tried not to think about.
There was nothing he could do to make things safer for her that others
weren't already doing. But how he wished, at times, that she - that
they - were just normal people living a quiet life in the suburbs.
Moving to the front door, the only way in or out of the cabin,
apart from the windows, he stepped silently onto the porch and held his
breath listening again for any sound.
Nothing.
He glanced around, checking for movement once again and his eyes
drew to a halt on the woman curled up beneath the window, painted in
shadows with the faintest traces of silver moonlight gilding her hair.
Letting out his breath on a sigh of relief, he replaced his gun
in its holster and crouched next to her, noticing she was shivering in
her sleep. A smile crossed his lips and stuck in place as he brushed a
strand of hair off her forehead, watching as it flopped directly back
into place. Then he reached for her, moving and shifting her until she
was lying cradled in his arms.
She curled into the warmth that radiated from him, a murmur
leaving her throat and her cold nose touching the nape of his neck.
His smile turned rueful as he shivered and turned for the door, glad it
was unlocked.
Manoeuvring her carefully though the door, he strode across to
the couch, sitting before a fire that had faded to embers. He laid her
down gently, tucking a rug around her and sitting back to watch her.
There was such peace on her face, the visible signs of the haven
he had found in the woman who had agreed to marry him the year before.
He'd been rather surprised that she'd said yes straight off. Somehow
he hadn't expected her to say yes like that, even though he knew she
loved him and they'd discussed the possibility previously.
They'd known each other for going on eight years when they'd been
surprised to discover a mutual attraction and found themselves acting
on it. Before that, neither of them had even considered the other as a
potential mate, but suddenly, it had seemed the only thing that made
any sense. By the end of the first date, Duo had known this was it
and, without a qualm, had committed himself to her, heart and soul.
The depth of that commitment had helped him begin the process of
actually _talking_ to her and the nature of her responses had
strengthened it. She had such compassion, such quiet understanding,
that he felt he could tell her anything and did. She had reciprocated
almost immediately, gifting him with the secret shadows and fireflies
of her heart as well as the honesty of her responses and the
completeness of her trust.
Duo didn't think she quite realised how different she was when
she was with him than when she was around others. But he had noticed
and recognised, in that, how much he was loved. The words had been
completely unnecessary; though her willingness to voice her sentiments
always made his insides melt and what he was _sure_ was an incredibly
silly grin to appear all over his face.
He felt that same grin appear now at the memories rushing through
his mind and turned to tend the fire in order to warm her and him and
keep the cabin as the cosy shelter it should be. The addition of more
kindling caused a flare of flame, a sudden gust of heat hitting him in
the face as he sat by waiting with a larger log. A smile quirked his
mouth as he thought of the extravagance of wood burning that, on Earth,
became something taken for granted. On the colony where he was born,
there had been no wood to burn and fire was a danger that used up too
much oxygen and required the use of precious water to douse. He hoped
that he'd never take such things for granted though, and, turning back
to his wife, made himself a promise to never take her for granted
either.
Kneeling beside the couch, he smiled down at her, brushing a
finger lightly across her cheek, enjoying the feel of familiar silken
skin. It was still a little colder than usual, but that was changing,
pale colour returning and the shivers dropping off as the woollen
blanket began to do its job. His hand spread until his palm lay
against her cheek, the tips of his fingers buried in the softness of
her hair. Without thought, he leaned in closer until his lips were
hovering above hers, sharing breath and life.
His eyes drifted closed and his breath caught as he found himself
lost in the closeness, a mist of tears filming his eyes. Then he
lowered himself that last centimetre and let his lips ever so lightly
brush hers.
As the moment dragged out, she murmured, shifting against the
couch and a hand came to rest against his chest as her lips softened
and she drew a breath from his mouth. He pulled back and opened his
eyes to gaze into hers, still half asleep, but alight with joy.
"Duo," she breathed and he leant down to kiss her again.
==========
Resting against her husband's chest, curled up in the blankets on
the bed early next morning, Relena looked out the window at the view,
appreciating it now the way she hadn't the night before. It looked
like Christmas was going to be another lovely day, with crystal blue
skies above pristine snowfields, a clarity in the air that never failed
to refresh her. In the weather lay the promise of snow fights, hikes
through the snow and long hours spent staring out across the valley as
the sun went down. But before that she had a gift to give to Duo.
And before that, they needed to put the tree up, neither of them
having the energy to do more than drift off to sleep holding each other
after she'd woken to his kiss. But she didn't mind; neither tree nor
gift was as important as Duo. He'd promised to be here and here he
was; the greatest possible gift that she was given every day.
Relena sighed softly and happily.
Then the heartbeat beneath her ear jumped a little and she turned
her head, glancing up at Duo's face and the now open blue-violet eyes.
They stared at each other for a second then smiled, Duo's arms coming
around her more firmly as she snuggled closer. A breath of air gusted
over the top of her head as Duo tilted his head, giving the impression
of curling around her.
"Merry Christmas, Relena," he whispered.
And it was.
===Owari===
http://www.geocities.com/sefilin/
sefilin@yahoo.com
Waiting on a Promise
A Gundam Wing Christmas Fic
By Sefilin
======================================================================
Disclaimers: Shin Kidousenki Gundam Wing copyright Sunrise, Bandai,
Sotsu Agency
==========
Relena glanced out at the snow, spreading deep and soft for as
far as she could see. It lay heavily on the dark branches of the
evergreens that surrounded the small cabin and sparked golden under the
fading light of the sun and indigo in the shadows beneath the trees.
Before her spread a panorama of majestic mountains, tips painted purple
and pink, touched with the same gold that lay at her feet. A small
town was nestled in the valley below, lights already glittering in good
cheer. Above her the sky, mirroring the colour of the shadows beneath
the branches, was darkening, allowing the tiny silver pinpricks of
stars to appear. The moon, round and fat, seemed to be enjoying the
last few moments of its rest before beginning its night shift.
Altogether, it was a perfect evening for staring at the scenery from
the cosy cabin set snugly on the mountain.
She sighed and wrapped her arms more tightly about herself,
trying to keep warm as she stood on the porch, seeing less of the view
than she would have liked because her eyes were pinned on the break in
the trees that was the end of the long driveway. She didn't know how
long, exactly, she'd been standing there, but the sun had been much
higher in the sky then, keeping her warm enough in the fine cashmere
sweater and open coat she was wearing.
Saddened, she took a step backwards and folded herself onto the
floor of the porch under the window, slipping her arms around her knees
instead, and resting her chin on them. Still her gaze remained on the
tree break.
She was waiting, had been all day and even before that she'd been
waiting, although there had been no expectation of an arrival until
that morning. She'd been hoping that maybe he'd surprise her, and
arrive the evening before while she'd been sitting in front of the fire
listening to some of the jazz in his rather eclectic collection and
sipping at a glass of cider. He hadn't come, and though she'd been a
little disappointed, she hadn't really expected him then; his work kept
him busy.
Today, though, had been the beginning of his holidays and he was
supposed to leave first thing in the morning in order to get here by
lunch, but he hadn't arrived yet and it was getting dark. Already the
golden glow had faded and the silver of moonlight was beginning to
emerge instead. She'd called the apartment to make sure he'd left and
yes, she had been told he'd left as planned early that morning, he was
just going to stop by the office to drop something off before
continuing on. So she called the office, talked for long minutes to
some of her best friends who had told him that, yes, he'd left and
Merry Christmas.
She'd stared at the phone for a long time after that, hoping that
it would, indeed, be a Merry Christmas, but knowing it was dependant on
him. He had to be here, especially since it was their first Christmas
together as man and wife. They were going to start a tradition, he'd
claimed; no matter how busy they were in future, no matter how far one
or the other of them would have to travel, at least they'd spend
Christmas together. It was going to be a special family time,
especially when they had children. He'd grinned then as she blushed at
the thought and kissed her thoroughly, leaving her breathless -
something he could do effortlessly.
Brushing her bangs off her forehead, and smiling at the memory,
she turned her face to the sky, staring at the moon in the satin sky.
She loved that she now had those memories and that this marriage
promised that her collection would grow.
She hadn't known, when they'd first met, how utterly romantic her
husband could be and it had taken her by surprise to receive the tiny
suncrystal the day after their first date. Now it hung in the window
of her office, casting rainbows to dancing on days when the sun was but
a glimmer in the sky, and cheering her up almost as though he was there
himself. And he'd promised to give her rainbows on that first date,
promised her that no matter what sadness occurred, there would always
be a rainbow to follow and make things better. She hadn't expected him
to deliver so soon, but those rainbows had helped on many an occasion
when work got to be too much.
The best thing, she mused, about his romantic bent, was that it
was unpredictable. Not for him the usual expression of flowers, though
that didn't mean she didn't get flowers on occasion, but it was just as
likely for him to arrive at her office with a picnic and drag her to
the park. Or the gifts, a small sandalwood candle or a scribbled note
telling her, in one way or another, that she was cherished.
It made her feel guilty, sometimes, that she could never
reciprocate with as much creativity and she'd mentioned that once, when
he'd taken her to the ballet for their first anniversary as a couple,
then given her a tiny painting of a ballerina in a gilt frame that now
stood on her dressing table at home. He'd looked surprised, then
laughed, staring at her with such tenderness that she lost her ability
to think for a moment. He'd told her that the greatest gift she could
give him was to smile, to let him know that she enjoyed what he did for
her. That the only thing he ever wanted was to be loved, and she gave
him that unconditionally; how could he possibly give her enough to make
up for that? She'd smiled through tears and caught his face in her
hands, placing butterfly kisses on his eyelids, the tip of his nose,
then lingeringly on his mouth.
It was the first time she had told him, in words, that she loved
him. The smile she'd gotten for that effort had been enough to
convince her that for him, that was the most precious gift she could
give. So she gave it, telling him with word, gesture and touch that
she adored him.
That sense of wonder, that she loved him, had never waned in the
year they'd dated and the year they'd been married and Relena was still
awed by the fact that she could have such an effect on him.
She'd known him, before that, as strong, perhaps a little
insensitive and, because he never let anyone know how he really felt
about things, a bit shallow. His previous girlfriend, whom everyone
had thought was perfect for him because of the similarity in their
personalities hadn't been able to get past the barriers he had in
place. She'd said that he hadn't trusted her enough to give her more
than friendship, that there had never been true intimacy, even in bed.
Then she'd said that she was glad he'd found her, and, with a smile
full of nostalgia, that Relena could give him what he needed to open
up.
And she had to admit that he had. She'd learnt more about him in
the year before he proposed than she'd ever dreamed was held within his
slender body and quicksilver mind. He'd cried in her arms for friends
long gone and spent long hours telling her of his life, and she loved
him all the more for giving her that much of himself.
Not that they're weren't times when he only had the mask to show
her too; those times when he was too tired, feeling too vulnerable to
tell even her. Then there were the times when the mask became more
than a mask and then she was introduced to fun, on a scale she'd never,
ever known before - carnivals, clubs, parties, walking in the
mountains, dinner and dancing, playing in the park and driving fast
along country roads.
And each of his facets - the romantic, the child, the too
sensitive man, the clown - had at one time or another left her
completely breathless. She'd never had that happen before, even with
the childhood sweetheart she had thought was her one true love. Theirs
had been a quiet, comfortable relationship, but without the excitement
that gave this one the life it had.
She wished he was here, that she didn't have to sit here waiting
for him and worrying about if he was safe. He'd promised, though, and
he'd never broken a promise, so she would stay here, waiting and
remembering, until he arrived and they could put the tree up in time
for Christmas tomorrow and spend the night wrapped in each others arms.
==========
Drawing the car to a halt, Duo sighed deeply, hoping she wasn't
too worried or upset at the lateness of his arrival, which hadn't
entirely been his fault. After all, how was he to know that the
vehicle would somehow acquire a flat tyre in the middle of nowhere,
with the spare still to be replaced after a high-speed car chase the
other week? A few hours trudging through snow that had become sludge,
had brought him, exhausted, to a small town whose mechanic had driven
him back out and helped him change the tyre. Feeling obliged to thank
him for the beyond-the-call-of-duty actions, he'd bought a drink for
the mechanic that had dragged out into two, as the locals, not used to
strangers pausing there on their journeys, had been eager to talk.
Finally he'd managed to extricate himself from their well-meaning
hospitality by mentioning the fact that his wife was waiting for him
and that he rather thought he was running late. That had had the
unfortunate effect of making the townsfolk feel guilty for having kept
him so long and they'd given him a basket of Christmas mince pies and
sent him on his way. He'd left, watching them becoming smaller in the
rear-view mirror and wishing he'd been able to stay in the friendly
warmth a little longer. Weighed against his wife, though, the
attraction had paled and he'd accelerated, thinking that maybe both of
them could stop there for a little while on the way back to the city
after Christmas.
He'd been lucky he hadn't gone sliding off the road at the speed
he was driving, but a sudden need to see her had gripped him and he'd
spent the rest of the trip trying to remember the exact blue of her
eyes and knowing that his imagination wasn't doing them justice. It
never did.
He paused for a moment beside the 4WD and glanced at the dark
cabin, suddenly afraid of what he'd find. It wasn't like her to leave
everything dark like this; she was a creature of the light.
Stepping quickly forwards, he unholstered his gun and gripped it
firmly, watching carefully for any sign that the situation was bad.
There was no sound, no movement and his breath began to come faster as
fear-induced adrenaline rushed into his veins, producing a heat that
made him feel cold.
That his wife was such an important figure in the world was not
something he enjoyed. He was proud of her, of course, that she held
such responsibility without letting it weigh her down too far and
without allowing it to become power. But the danger she lived with
because of that position was something he tried not to think about.
There was nothing he could do to make things safer for her that others
weren't already doing. But how he wished, at times, that she - that
they - were just normal people living a quiet life in the suburbs.
Moving to the front door, the only way in or out of the cabin,
apart from the windows, he stepped silently onto the porch and held his
breath listening again for any sound.
Nothing.
He glanced around, checking for movement once again and his eyes
drew to a halt on the woman curled up beneath the window, painted in
shadows with the faintest traces of silver moonlight gilding her hair.
Letting out his breath on a sigh of relief, he replaced his gun
in its holster and crouched next to her, noticing she was shivering in
her sleep. A smile crossed his lips and stuck in place as he brushed a
strand of hair off her forehead, watching as it flopped directly back
into place. Then he reached for her, moving and shifting her until she
was lying cradled in his arms.
She curled into the warmth that radiated from him, a murmur
leaving her throat and her cold nose touching the nape of his neck.
His smile turned rueful as he shivered and turned for the door, glad it
was unlocked.
Manoeuvring her carefully though the door, he strode across to
the couch, sitting before a fire that had faded to embers. He laid her
down gently, tucking a rug around her and sitting back to watch her.
There was such peace on her face, the visible signs of the haven
he had found in the woman who had agreed to marry him the year before.
He'd been rather surprised that she'd said yes straight off. Somehow
he hadn't expected her to say yes like that, even though he knew she
loved him and they'd discussed the possibility previously.
They'd known each other for going on eight years when they'd been
surprised to discover a mutual attraction and found themselves acting
on it. Before that, neither of them had even considered the other as a
potential mate, but suddenly, it had seemed the only thing that made
any sense. By the end of the first date, Duo had known this was it
and, without a qualm, had committed himself to her, heart and soul.
The depth of that commitment had helped him begin the process of
actually _talking_ to her and the nature of her responses had
strengthened it. She had such compassion, such quiet understanding,
that he felt he could tell her anything and did. She had reciprocated
almost immediately, gifting him with the secret shadows and fireflies
of her heart as well as the honesty of her responses and the
completeness of her trust.
Duo didn't think she quite realised how different she was when
she was with him than when she was around others. But he had noticed
and recognised, in that, how much he was loved. The words had been
completely unnecessary; though her willingness to voice her sentiments
always made his insides melt and what he was _sure_ was an incredibly
silly grin to appear all over his face.
He felt that same grin appear now at the memories rushing through
his mind and turned to tend the fire in order to warm her and him and
keep the cabin as the cosy shelter it should be. The addition of more
kindling caused a flare of flame, a sudden gust of heat hitting him in
the face as he sat by waiting with a larger log. A smile quirked his
mouth as he thought of the extravagance of wood burning that, on Earth,
became something taken for granted. On the colony where he was born,
there had been no wood to burn and fire was a danger that used up too
much oxygen and required the use of precious water to douse. He hoped
that he'd never take such things for granted though, and, turning back
to his wife, made himself a promise to never take her for granted
either.
Kneeling beside the couch, he smiled down at her, brushing a
finger lightly across her cheek, enjoying the feel of familiar silken
skin. It was still a little colder than usual, but that was changing,
pale colour returning and the shivers dropping off as the woollen
blanket began to do its job. His hand spread until his palm lay
against her cheek, the tips of his fingers buried in the softness of
her hair. Without thought, he leaned in closer until his lips were
hovering above hers, sharing breath and life.
His eyes drifted closed and his breath caught as he found himself
lost in the closeness, a mist of tears filming his eyes. Then he
lowered himself that last centimetre and let his lips ever so lightly
brush hers.
As the moment dragged out, she murmured, shifting against the
couch and a hand came to rest against his chest as her lips softened
and she drew a breath from his mouth. He pulled back and opened his
eyes to gaze into hers, still half asleep, but alight with joy.
"Duo," she breathed and he leant down to kiss her again.
==========
Resting against her husband's chest, curled up in the blankets on
the bed early next morning, Relena looked out the window at the view,
appreciating it now the way she hadn't the night before. It looked
like Christmas was going to be another lovely day, with crystal blue
skies above pristine snowfields, a clarity in the air that never failed
to refresh her. In the weather lay the promise of snow fights, hikes
through the snow and long hours spent staring out across the valley as
the sun went down. But before that she had a gift to give to Duo.
And before that, they needed to put the tree up, neither of them
having the energy to do more than drift off to sleep holding each other
after she'd woken to his kiss. But she didn't mind; neither tree nor
gift was as important as Duo. He'd promised to be here and here he
was; the greatest possible gift that she was given every day.
Relena sighed softly and happily.
Then the heartbeat beneath her ear jumped a little and she turned
her head, glancing up at Duo's face and the now open blue-violet eyes.
They stared at each other for a second then smiled, Duo's arms coming
around her more firmly as she snuggled closer. A breath of air gusted
over the top of her head as Duo tilted his head, giving the impression
of curling around her.
"Merry Christmas, Relena," he whispered.
And it was.
===Owari===
http://www.geocities.com/sefilin/
sefilin@yahoo.com