Quatre sulked, as he stood in front of the full-length mirror.
The frustrating red marks now covered most of his body, making
it difficult to either sit or lay down without causing a
terrible itch. All he could do was to stare at the reflection of
his mostly unclothed body.

"Trowa," Quatre whined, trying to reach his back. "Come here and
scratch me."

Trowa sighed, dropping his paper. "Why are you up again?"

Quatre pouted. "For better and worse, you promised."

Smiling patiently, Trowa carefully scratched the offensive spot
on Quatre's back. Quatre with measles would try an angel's
patience.

-end-
Note: This was a challenge to myself - write a fic with
exactly 100 words.