Unititled Band Ficlet

forgive the "little ones", "angels", gag!

A ficlet for all marching band members, cleanups the worst part

Quatre rounded the corner, music crammed in his arms heading to the band room. Then it hit him like a rock *slam*

"Oww" quatre blinked picking himself off the floor. Pages of composition laid sprayed upon the tiled hallway, "no, no" quatre began to pick the precious pieces up.

"Quatre! How could you!" hazel eyes flared from behind the newly opened door.

"I'm sorry Holly" Quatre picked the remaining papers, some where bent, others crushed.

"Quatre, Harris is gonna kill you!" Holly grabbed the ruined copies of "A Christmas Festival" from the blonde and she huffed.

"God! Just go unpack! And get ready!" she stormed off

/there goes my shot at impressing Harris/ Quatre mentally beat himself. Walking into the instrument storage room he unlocked his bottom locked and removed a black case. Grabbing his music, theory book, vale oil and his horn stand he scurried into the band room.

The room was active as ever, people turning their instruments, some idling chatting waiting for the director, and other in a panic study for the next theory quiz. He headed to his seat and sat down and began to unpack his french horn. Placing his papers on his stand he adjusted it to a comfortable height. Oiling up his slides and vales quatre prepared for class.

A hush descended upon the room as Mr. Harris entered.

"Hey gang!" the man spoke cheerfully in his southern accent. "Hornline captains, section leaders, and drum majors remember we are defuncking the room after school today, after marching season there seems to be a "presence" in here and I don't mean ghosts!"

Quatre giggled their band director was always making jokes like that but he also knew how to get down to business. Their award winning undefeated marching season showed that.

Smiling in remembrance of the ending season quatre looked forward to concert band. Marching was great, the Friday night games, the competitions, the trophies or "hardware" as the band members called it, was fun and exciting. But it also was hard, grueling and time consuming.

/glad that's over/ Quatre loved making music more than the glory on the field. Concert season promised him so much. / maybe they will stop teasing me now/

As if on cue the lower brass players took their seats. Quatre hide his eyes under his bangs.

"Hey there Kat" Jason sneered. The baritone player was always harassing him.

/ well I did set my self up for it /

Since french horns are concert instruments they do not march, Quatre decided that instead of marching a "marching horn" that he would just join guard. Big mistake! While normally it was an ok thing to join guard and be a boy the lower brass players just found it as an accuse to harass the blond.

"I bet your sad its concert season- you can't "flutter" around the field like a fairy anymore," Chris made a fake sad face. Jason spoke back up. "No worries man, he is a natural fairy!" they laughed at their pathetic joke.

"YOU!" Harris pointed in their direction, " Shut your mouths I won't have you talking though out concert band like you did though the last season! Now class first set of lip slurs" He held up his baton and began to warm the class up.

Silent tears held fast in his eyes, Quatre brought his horn to his face and warmed up.

------

"Quatre baby-doll how are you!" Quatre couldn't help but smile.

"Sara, hey there" he greeted her the tall flute grabbed him and pulled him in a bear hug.

"Do you need a ride home after we clean the room?" he nodded and thanked the tall girl.

"No problem darrrrliiing" she sang in her sweet voice. Quatre just shook his head, the two of them always played two games, one the british game, and two the whore game.

Quatre was glad he had a friend like Sara. He finished packing and storing his things in his locket before join the other "leaders" in Harris's office.


The two drum majors, Holly and Collin where there, and so where the captain heads, Sara was in charge of woodwinds and so was Trowa.

/mmmmm/ Quatre thought / thank god I'm brass caption head, not only do I get power but I get to drool/

"Ok gang here's the deal…" he quickly explained who would clean what and how. Handing quatre a bottle of fabric fresher and a binder he pointed to Trowa.

"Quatre I want you and Trowa to clean the uniform storage room and reorganize the labels on them" Harris winked, "Don't worry about the music it was an accident".

Quatre nodded and head with the brown haired youth to the storage room.

" NO FAIR! I DON'T WANT TO CLEAN THE STORAGE ROOM! DO YOU KNOW WHATS GROWING IN THERE!" Sara wailed. Quatre chugged.

------

"Shako number 274, Pants 254, Jacket 213… that's the last one Trowa" Quatre marked the last numbers in the binder and closed it.

"Great job Quatre, were all done" Trowa gave him a small smile and he couldn't help but feel his heart flutter. Then his eyes dulled…flutter

"What's wrong little one?" trowa asked flipping though the uniforms one last time.

"O nothing" trowa only frowned. "Even if I do play flute and sit up front, I still know what goes on in the back" the message as simple enough. Trowa knew about all the harassing the blond had put up with for several months. It bothered him to no end but he tried to convinced himself that it wasn't his battle

/but you want it to be/ it was a fact Quatre was gay, everyone knew even if he didn't tell them.

/fucking "gaydar" the lower brass players always were teasing quatre about it, the little one being on color guard didn't help any/

"Quatre, I'm your friend you have known me for years-tell me what's wrong."

Tears came to his eyes, he tried to shack them away but it was no use they fell and silently he tried to hold months worth of pain in. Trowa came up to him and hugged him. Quatre stiffened at the first bit of contact but then melted into it.

"Sorry, I'm so sorry" his voice was a mummer cloaked by Trowas warm turtle neck. Trowa simply rubbed his back and let the blond lend on him for support.

"You don't have to go though this alone, stand up for who you are" Trowa whispered into staying blond locks.

"Yo band gee-" Sara burst into the uniform room her eyes fell on the hugging forms of her two classmates, her eyes softened and she slowly shut the door, but not before mouthing the word "thank you" to Trowa.

Trowa shook his head and hugged Quatre tighter he was the thank full one.

-- 7 months later --

"Darriiiinnngg! Get you arse up on the bus! We need to hit the road" Sara yelled across the parking lot at Quatre.

"Hold your horses!" he loaded his instrument in the belly of the rental bus and the climbed aboard. A hand shot up from the middle. Quatre smiled and took the patted seat beside Trowa.

"Hey there little one" Trowa gripped his hand in a comfortable greeting.

"Hey no lovey stuff on the bus you two" Sara said bopping down the isle. "Not when I still can't find a date!" Quatre just stuck out his tongue. In several months Quatres life had change greatly. Trowa and him began dating shortly after their encounter in the storage room and were welcomed by Sara and the rest of the "band homies". Though the low brass no longer teased Quatre they still did not approve. If it wasn't for fear of Trowa the other brass players would have continued.

"Here we go concert contest!" Sara shouted, the bus riders continued to ignore her. "O well" Turning back she saw that Quatre was not resting his head on Trowas shoulder as the taller youth read a book silently.

"Whore" she hissed
"Wench!
"Hussy"
"Lady of the Evening"
"Hooker!"
"Slut!"
"gahe-s"

"Ha I win! " Quatre did a victory dance with his hands.
"Why do you beat me every time!"

"Ok gang here we go!" The director shouted from the front Quatre laced his fingers with Trowas and looked upward, a smile grazed Trowa lips.

"Ready?" glittering green eyes asked
"Always" Quatre answered