This story was written for the fanworks challenge '101 ways to snog en route to a colony' to celebrate GWAddiction's two-millionth hit, which was organized by Psyche and Dracostella. (Thanks, guys!) This fic is archived under Snog 08. So, be prepared for shameless snogging.
Simple Things
—
It was just a puddle-jumper from one colony to the next, but a long enough flight for the two of them to take off their shoes and take out their paperwork. Plans, proposals—the speeches they were to give at the conference on Colony D-120. Relena Darlian, vice-foreign minister representing Earth in the Colonies, sat cross-legged in her seat making last-minute changes to her report. She glanced over at Quatre, her best friend, Winner heir and president of the company, whose lips were moving silently as he read over his introductory speech. She smiled to herself. She had met Quatre's father once at one of her father's colony meetings and the resemblance kept increasing as he got older. He had the same strong, aristocratic chin and tall frame on which his three-piece suit hung perfectly.
"You know, I'm really looking forward to this. We'll finally be able to spend some time together—"
Relena started. "What?"
"Again," Quatre finished, giving her an odd look. She felt her cheeks burning. "It'll be just like old times. Er, pleading our case together, I mean. I really feel like we're moving in the right direction, here, and that we have a chance to make some progress. Are you all right?"
"Just a little nervous, I guess," she lied, but it was the truth when she added: "I'm not sure about the wording on some of this, though. Does it sound clear enough to you?"
"Let me see." He went and sat in the seat next to her, moving her portfolio as he did so, which let loose the little, fuzzy brown bear that had been trapped under it. In the low gravity it started floating toward the seats across from them when Quatre grabbed it. "A present from Heero?" he asked. "How many does this make now?"
"Three so far." She blushed. "I guess you could say it's becoming something of a tradition between us."
"Uh-huh."
Her lopsided smile startled him.
"What?"
"Quatre Raberba Winner, is that jealousy I detect in your tone?"
"Jealous?" He shrugged innocently and set his pen doing somersaults in the air in front of him like one of a magician's subtle distractions. "Not at all. It's just that there are so many suitors to compete with, you know."
She chuckled. "You're one to talk. What about that little fanclub of yours?" When he opened his mouth to defend himself she held up a hand. "Don't act like you don't know about them. They always show up at every one of your public appearances, screaming your name. 'Quatre, I love you!' 'Marry me, Quatre!'" she said in a high voice, then amended mockingly: "The trials and tribulations of a teenage president."
"I know, I know," he said. "But they're not there for politics." He leaned closer and held her gaze, searching for that elusive, brilliant smile. "That's why I like you."
"I'm flattered." She turned away. "Here's the part I'm not sure on. Does it seem a bit redundant to you?"
"Um-hmm." But Quatre wasn't paying attention. He kissed her neck, where she was ticklish, and she laughed a little trying to keep from scrunching her shoulders. "Aren't you going to look over it?" she said in a lowered voice, distracted by his warm breath.
"There'll be plenty of time for that when we land. I wanted to give you one of your presents."
"Yeah? And what's that?"
He turned her face toward his, a sweet smile on his lips as he whispered: "Happy Birthday."
Their lips slid together in a tender osculation that quickly grew in intensity as she leaned into him across the arms of the seats. Her documents and her heart rose with the simple, sincere feeling in his kiss that touched her soul, making her feel special, like they were the only ones on the shuttle—the two of them floating weightless through space, all their responsibilities melting away for just a few seconds. She couldn't imagine a better birthday present, from a better person.
(CLICK)
A blinding flash startled them and they broke apart, and came face to face with whom they had thought was the flight attendant and his camera. "You two don't know how happy you've just made me," he said as they gaped. "'President Winner and Vice-Foreign Minister Darlian Play Tonsil Tennis on Conference Flight.' It'll be the pinnacle of my career!"
"Who let you on this flight?" Relena said when she recovered her voice.
"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to delete that picture," Quatre said, whipping out his checkbook.
"No way!"
"All right, but I'm prepared to reimburse you."
"So Mr Winner also bribes the press?"
Blushing, Quatre got up to defend her honor, trying all his negotiation tricks and oratory skills. But Relena just laughed.
12/4/02
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