Disclaimer: The Gundam Wing characters do not belong to me. If they did, the show would have been very different…..

Seeking Perfection:

Quatre gave Zechs ten minutes before going back downstairs. He didn't want to watch the man openly hitting on Duo, or trying to cope with any more of his annoyingly vague comments.

Instead, he hung over the terrace rail, hearing Duo's exclamations at Zechs' sports car, and watching Zechs open the door and usher him inside. He even resisted the temptation to pick up one of Trowa's pot plants and hurl it down on to that sleek blond head.

Zechs was not supposed to be any part of his shimmering fantasy world. Instead, he'd barged in and annihilated it with a few surgically-precise statements and everything that he'd said had been painfully true. His life wasn't a fairytale, and Trowa didn't belong in it. Quatre Raberba Winner would never, ever be permitted to have that sort of relationship.

So he was angry at Zechs because he'd given him a dose of reality. And a few infuriating hints about something he knew to do with Trowa. It wasn't as if Trowa could ever have done anything awful. By now, Heero and Rashid would have had plenty of time to run background checks on him; if they'd found anything, there was no way he'd still be in Trowa's company.

It was just Zechs being his usual annoying self.

Probably.

'Give yourself this one night and go back to your real life in the morning.'

That was what he'd said.

One perfect night, Quatre thought wistfully. Just the two of them. Was that such an awful thing to want? He didn't know, really, if Trowa even wanted more than that.

The sensible thing, the thing that Quatre Raberba Winner would have done without even thinking about it, would have been to call Rashid and just walk away. There was no way that he and Trowa could ever have any sort of a future together. Far, far better to nip this infatuation in the bud. Better for both of them.

Cat, on the other hand, made a face at Zechs' car, zooming off down the street, and ran downstairs to Trowa. It was stupid, but he'd made a wish that night on his hotel balcony, and then he'd met Trowa.

That had to count for something.

When he pushed open the door to the shop, Trowa looked up with an expression that was a jumble of concern, affection and uncertainty.

'Since your friend left with Duo rather than you, can I assume there's nothing between you?'

'There isn't. I swear.'

Trowa smiled, just a little twist of his lips, but it was enough.

'It's nothing like that.'

'Good.' There were too many people in the shop for any major physical contact, but Trowa gave his hand a slight squeeze. 'Sorry, but Zechs is rather…visually impressive, and you obviously couldn't wait to get him alone.'

'It was nothing like that. He's, well, he's the sort of person who likes to embarrass his friends and I'd rather you didn't hear about all the foolish things I've ever done in my entire life.'

'I'd love to hear all of those things,' Trowa teased. 'Now, should I be prepared for any more Greek God types to turn up out of the blue and abduct what's left of my staff?'

'I think it's safe enough,' Quatre decided. 'Heero won't be here until the morning and I don't really have any other friends.'

'I find that impossibly hard to believe.' Trowa turned away to direct a couple of teenage girls to the Stephanie Meyers section. 'Why does someone like you not have dozens of friends?'

'Because I have a pretty sad, pathetic life at home,' Quatre admitted honestly. 'I just finished my MBA last year; before that I didn't really do anything but work and study. And now I just work. I've known Heero for years; his stepfather does contract work for my family, and Heero did some work experience with us before he started university. I don't really know Zechs that well; he's Heero's friend more than mine.'

That was true, in a way. Zechs didn't, obviously, consider him any sort of friend at the moment and he and Heero had always got on. 'How do you know him?'

'He used to date a friend of mine.' Trowa didn't sound too happy about it, and then smiled at two small girls who were approaching the counter, books in hand.

The next couple of hours were busy. Trowa greeted most of the customers by name, and there were introductions and discussions on the relative merits of JK Rowling and Phillip Pullman. It was fun.

'You said you liked Italian,' Trowa remarked later as they walked upstairs, shop locked up and the day's takings tallied. It felt good; like going home. 'I make a pretty good spaghetti and meatballs. How does that sound?'

'Really great. Can I help?'

Trowa unlocked the door, ushering him in. 'Most definitely. You've just been promoted from shop assistant to apprentice chef. You know how to cook, right?'

'Oh, yes. Mostly Asian, though. Heero taught me; we cook sometimes in his apartment.'

'Hmmm. As long as you don't do anything else in his apartment I can live with that.' He handed Quatre a chopping board and a knife. 'The tomatoes are in the bottom drawer of the fridge. Tell me about Heero. What else do you guys do together?' He kissed Quatre quickly on the lips. 'I'm not being jealous. I'm just trying to imagine your life; what your best friend is like.'

'You'll be meeting him tomorrow. He's very intense, very focused on his career. He runs his own IT company, and I love computers so we do a lot of geeky stuff. He's really into all sorts of martial arts and fencing; that's something else we do together when we have time.'

'You fence, really? Zorro stuff?'

Quatre laughed. 'Something like that. I love it. What else do we do? We watch movies and we go horse-riding sometimes and drive out into the desert and hike. Have I chopped enough tomatoes yet?'

'That's plenty.' Trowa glanced up from shaping meatballs. 'Can you do some garlic next? And some basil? You might need to go up to the roof to pick the basil.'

'OK.' The sun was just starting to go down, streaks of crimson painting the sky. Utterly breathtaking. Quatre stroked the white cat, curled up in a patch of late afternoon sunlight, and carefully selected a handful of herbs. A perfect, perfect moment, with Trowa downstairs waiting for him.

Oh dear. All of this was so very addictive, and so unattainable. No. He'd achieved it in a purely temporary sense. It was just non-sustainable.

Trowa was sautéing onions and garlic when he went back down; it smelt delicious.

'Hey, what kept you?'

'I was looking at the sky. And talking to Mallow.'

'I'm surprised she's not down here already. Normally she smells meat and she's trying to climb into the pan. Can I get you to open a bottle of red? Corkscrew in the drawer at your elbow; glasses in the cupboard by the door.'

'No problem. Anything else I can do.'

'Pretty much done now.' Trowa transferred the onion mixture to a large pot, added the chopped tomatoes and herbs and a couple of jars of sauce, and proceeded to drop in his meatballs. 'Sit down and talk to me.'

'OK.' Quatre took a sip of wine; not something he usually drank. Not that he ever drank alcohol at all, really. 'So what else do you like doing apart from cooking and reading?'

'Let's see. I like cute blond guys.' He grinned, taking a packet of spaghetti out of a cupboard. 'I like outdoorsy stuff; I go hiking a lot when I have time, and I do some volunteer conservation work at the national park outside the city. I love animals; I'd really like a dog but I don't have the space here. I've got a motorbike that Duo says is the love of my life.'

'You've got a bike? Really? I've never been on a motorbike.'

'I'll take you for a ride tomorrow if you want. Right. That'll take about an hour and a half to cook. We can take the wine and some garlic bread up to the roof. How does that sound?'

'Like paradise,' Quatre exclaimed extravagantly, making a sudden decision. He could give himself the gift of this one, perfect night. Reality could wait until morning. He'd tell Trowa then.

'A loaf of bread, a jug of wine and thou,' Trowa quoted, smiling. 'You can take the radio up if you want some music. I sort of like silence after being in the shop all day.'

'Silence is nice,' Quatre agreed, heading for the terrace. 'I really, really like it up here.'

'It's great, isn't it?' Trowa looked pleased. 'My aunt used to have it really nice. She had all sorts of flowers in pots and a little water feature. I let it go for the first few years after she died, I just didn't have time to maintain it and I ended up keeping a pile of junk here. Duo and I cleared it a couple of summers ago and I come up here all the time if the weather's good.'

'I like it,' Quatre repeated idly, running one finger up the stem of his glass.

'Yeah.' Trowa put his own glass down, green eyes intent on blue. 'How long's it been now? Since I kissed you?'

'Too long.' Trowa tasted of wine and his own sauce. The kiss was gentle at the start, very sweet and tentative, and ripened slowly, deliciously into a tangle of tongues and the occasional nip or nibble.

'You're lovely.' Trowa drew back slightly. 'If we keep doing this, I'm going to get distracted and forget all about dinner.'

'Do you like pizza?' Quatre nuzzled into his neck, licking the warm, firm skin. 'I love it.'

'Pizza is good.' Trowa's head fell back as Quatre's lips found a little cluster of nerves at his throat. 'Oh, God. Keep doing that.'

'I plan to.' His partner was totally, utterly perfect, Quatre decided, sliding both hands under Trowa's shirt and exploring the firm, flat stomach. The man groaned, deep in his throat as Quatre's fingers searched out one nipple and tweaked gently.

'Do you like that?'

'I like pretty much everything,' Trowa practically purred.

'Do you like this?' Quatre slipped off his own chair to kneel between Trowa's legs, palming the heat of his erection through the faded blue denims, before sliding the zipper down.

He'd done this to strangers in darkened rooms; in unmarked houses that were only known to certain people. Strangers who'd wiped themselves down hastily and left, sometimes with a brief word of thanks. He'd rushed home, sure that someone would recognise him, and swearing he'd never do anything like that again.

It was different with Trowa. There was sunlight and a slight breeze ruffling his hair and Trowa's low laugh as Quatre teased him with tiny kisses and Trowa's gasp when he was finally swallowed deep. Trowa's hands were touching him, caressing him,

'Wow.' Trowa whispered it almost reverently. 'That was quite the appetiser.'

'Something light to whet the appetite and tempt the palate?' Quatre managed. He was so hard it almost hurt; he'd almost come just from the look of pure ecstasy on Trowa's face.

'Oh, my palate has been well and truly tempted.' Trowa tipped him gently backwards onto the sun-warmed paving slabs. He could feel rays of sunlight on his skin when Trowa slid off his t-shirt; there were delicate feathery leaves from some plant tickling his face. 'God, you're lovely. I want to see you properly.' His fingers toyed with the first button of Quatre's – Duo's – jeans. 'Can I take these off?'

'Please. Please Trowa.'

'Please Trowa what?' Those long, knowing fingers danced over the buttons, flicking them loose.

'Please…anything.'

'Lots of scope there.' Trowa sounded pleased. He pulled off Quatre's jeans and briefs and just looked at him, drinking in every detail. 'My God. I can't believe this. It's like you just dropped out of the sky and now I've got you here and you're so fucking gorgeous.'

'I'm not.' Quatre squirmed uncomfortably under that devouring gaze, the caressing tone of the compliments. He wasn't remotely gorgeous. He'd inherited his dead mother's looks; pale skin and blond hair and blue eyes. All utterly out of place on L4.

'Don't you ever dare to say that again, you hear me? You're so beautiful I'm scared to death I'll wake up at any second and just remember this guy I met in a dream?'

'I'm not a dream.' Quatre shivered slightly. He was, in a way. Cat, the person Trowa liked, didn't exist. And Trowa wouldn't be interested in Quatre Raberba Winner, with his neatly parted hair, and his conservative suits, and his inability to control his own destiny.

'You're cold?'

Quatre shivered again; this time from Trowa's lips on his skin and arched his whole body up to meet that generous, gifted mouth. 'Not cold, no. That feels incredible.'

'You don't feel like a dream when you do that.'

'I'm not a dream.' After, Quatre wasn't quite sure whether he'd spoken the words again, or just thought them, as a brief prayer. There was only Trowa's body, caressing his, and sunshine, and his body exploding in a starburst of joy.

They ate dinner – miraculously unburnt – curled on the swing seat, trading kisses in between mouthfuls of food and wine. The sky was deep, dusky grape colour by then; just dark enough to see the first stars.

Quatre made a wish, the way he always did on Earth, and agreed with Trowa that it was getting a little chilly and they should probably go back inside.

He hadn't really noticed Trowa's bedroom before; it was nice. There was a dark, forest-green duvet set on the bed, and matching curtains, and someone – Duo presumably- had painted glowing constellations on the ceiling.

Quatre sat against the headboard, naked under the green duvet and waited for Trowa to come out of the shower.

He was going to have sex with this man.

'OK?' Trowa closed the door behind him, still towelling his hair, and looking at Quatre's face. 'No second thoughts or anything?'

'Only first thoughts. And I really, really want to be with you.' That one simple question; the fact that Trowa had cared enough to ask, annihilated any last, lingering doubts.

'And I really want to be with you.' The towel was tossed off into a corner. Trowa didn't seem to be remotely self-conscious about nudity, pulling the curtains closed, and rummaging in his dresser.

He was a mass of contradictions. It was hard to reconcile so many different facets of one person. He could be diffident sometimes, even a little shy, and then take control like he'd been born to it. He had a smile that could illuminate Quatre's existence, but when he'd first seen Zechs his whole face had become a grim, emotionless mask. He'd held little children on his lap in the shop and read them Dr. Seuss stories, and he'd half killed those men outside the club who'd wanted to hurt Quatre.

'Hey. Come here.' Trowa slid under the duvet and gathered Quatre into his arms. 'I know you had a horrible experience last night, but I swear I won't do anything you don't want. You just tell me when you're not comfortable with something and I'll slow down, OK? We've got all night. No need to rush things.'

'It's just....it's been a while since I've been with someone.'

'That's OK.' The kiss was very tender; a reassurance. A part of Quatre's brain noted that he hadn't made a similar disclaimer. Well, someone like Trowa would never need to be exactly celibate.

'It's OK,' Trowa repeated. 'You know what I really want to do first? I want to kiss you all over and see if you're ticklish anywhere, and where I can touch you to make you groan out loud and maybe shout my name. Is that all right?'

'Oh, yes.' Oh, yes, he'd agree to anything with that husky, honey-sweet voice murmuring in his ear. And those hands on him.

Quatre took a deep breath, the way Heero had taught him, to relax and gave himself up to being loved. It was easy. At one point, he reached up to caress Trowa in turn and the other man kissed his hands and slid them back to the mattress, saying it would be Quatre's turn later.

'Can you turn over, baby?' He didn't even have to make the effort himself; Trowa moved him gently on to his stomach and began the most blissfully mind-blowing backrub ever.

'You're a little bit tense, still,' he noted. 'There's nothing to worry about. I just want to make you feel really, really good.'

'I do. That feels wonderful.'

'Good.' Trowa pressed a kiss to the back of his neck, one hand kneading his shoulder muscles and the other drifted downwards, moulding itself to the curves of Quatre's buttocks. 'You have the cutest ass.' One finger trailed between his cleft, teasing his entrance and Quatre froze.

'OK.' Trowa's voice was dense with disappointment, but he dropped another kiss between Quatre's shoulderblades – a place where he'd never been kissed before. 'That was a pretty clear signal to back off.'

'Sorry.' Quatre burrowed his burning face into the pillow. 'I'm really sorry. It was just a bit ….unexpected, that's all.'

'Cat,' Trowa turned him back over, tilting his chin with one hand so he had to meet those green eyes. 'We're in bed together, we're naked, we're both planning on having sex. Is it really that much of a surprise that I touched you there?'

'I suppose not,' Quatre muttered. 'Look, I said I was sorry. I'll be fine the next time you do that, I promise.'

'Right. I think maybe we need a little talk before we do anything else. Is it because of last night?'

There it was; the perfect excuse, just handed to him. Quatre didn't take it. In this thing, at least, he would be honest. It wasn't remotely that he'd forgotten the experience. He'd jumped a couple of times in the shop when someone had touched him unexpectedly, or man had come closer than he'd realised. If he let his thoughts drift for a minute, he remembered the look in those men's eyes, and the paralysing fear and then the sudden jolt of pain. No one had ever hurt him deliberately in his whole life until then.

But that bore utterly no resemblance to whatever was between him and Trowa, so he shook his head. 'No. That was different. I …do want you.'

'Just not right now.' Trowa's expression was hard to read. A bit of frustration mixed in with sympathy and concern. Well, he probably thought that Quatre was still affected by the almost-rape, whatever he said. Oh, the irony. 'You've been with other people, right?'

'Yes, I'm not a virgin.' He didn't even have that shred of an excuse. 'Like I said, it's been a long time. It's – different on L4. I've slept with total strangers. I haven't done it very often and most of the time it wasn't even about the sex. It was just about having the chance to touch someone, to hold them for a few minutes, when I was feeling really lonely or depressed. Does that sound awful?'

'No.' Trowa sat up, hugging him close. 'It makes perfect sense. I've only ever been in love once, properly. Since he left, I've had one night stands, for all the reasons you've said.'

Quatre nodded. 'I'm sorry, but this just doesn't seem like one of those encounters. Not to me anyway.'

'I know.' Trowa rested his forehead against Quatre's. 'So what do we do? You do want to be with me at some point, right?'

'Oh, yes. Just maybe not tonight. Are you furious?'

'Shall I be honest or tactful here?' He was smiling, unbelievably. 'I won't lie to you. You were honest and I really, really appreciate that. I've been messed around before, and I love that you're being frank with me. We can postpone the sex for a day or so and see how things go. But,' he lifted one of Quatre's hands to his mouth and licked the palm, 'you've spent most of the day getting me all hot and bothered. I assume you're planning to help me work off a bit of steam?'