Drabble... sort of. Very short one-shot featuring 03x04, no plot, no point. Pure Fluff. Quatre's POV. Cotton candy fic. Short and sweet. Really, really, really sweet. Like 'you might need to go to the dentist after reading this' kind of sweet. Fluffy and sweet... like Cotton candy... mmmm... cotton candy.

What? Oh, sorry... rambling again. Anyway... Don't own them, probably never will. If you like this, then look up Shades of Blonde, a sweet little sappy drabble from Heero's POV. I'm not getting as many reveiws as I'd hoped, so if you read, please reveiw and tell me weather or not to keep this up.

This is my first posted 3/4 fic, so please be kind. Critisism welcome... but flames are only for toasting marshmallows. So unless you're sending me grahm crackers, hershey's bars, and marshmallows along with them... do not send flames.

--

Sunday Morning

I awake happier than I've been all week. Work has been keeping me busy... so busy, it seems... that I haven't had a break at all. But not today, I think as I open my eyes to see early morning sunlight filtering in through the craked window curtains. Today is our day. Nothing at all to do... except maybe sleep in.

It's Sunday morning.

I like Sundays, I think, rolling over. I smile when I see him. He's sprawled across half the bed. And he takes up quite a lot of it. He's on the slender, athletic side... but he's so tall. And it dosen't help that he sleeps with arms and legs spread out. But I make do. Because I love him.

I know it must be killing his arm to have my head laying on it all night long... but he never complains. One of the reasons I love him. He's relaxed. He rarely relaxes. Even in sleep, he is tense, ready for a fight, ready for Murphy to come knocking at the door. You know what I mean. Always ready for something bad to happen, even when he's asleep.

But he's relaxed now. Sprawled out, my head resting on his arm... he's at ease, at peace. I never know why, but he loves me. I'm the only one he lets his guard down around, the only one he lets see his personality.

And he does have one. People are always saying, "Oh, he's such a stick in the mud!", "Does that boy not have a personality at all?", "Trowa's so antisocial.. I don't see what Quatre sees in him." It dosent make me angry, though, to hear people talk like that. They just don't know him the way I do. No one does.

I stare at his face. It looks so peaceful when he's sleeping. I brush his caramel bangs out of the way so that I can see all of his face. He has such a painstakingly beautiful face... I never know why he likes to hide it.

His emerald eyes blink open, and he stares back at me. He smiles. At me, for me. A smile just for me and no one else. My heart flutters.

"Good Morning," I manage, trying to control my breathing. He always makes me feel like this... just one look, one smile... and I melt. All the bad things in life just wash away when he smiles at me like that.

"Good morning," he returns, gently pressing his lips against my forehead. I smile back at him.

I like Sundays. Alot.

"It's Sunday," he points out. Like I needed reminding.

"Mmhm," I say. "It is. What were you planning on doing today?"

"Stay home?" His voice is teasing, but I smile.

"And what were you planning on doing while you stay home all day?"

His hand comes up to my cheek, and he kisses me. A long, slow, passionate kiss. I can't help but sigh when he leans back, smiling down at me.

"Oh, I can think of a few things," He says.

My breath catches. Oh, my, I think as his lips claim mine again.

Yes... I really like Sunday mornings.