Lover's Day: Comfortable Romance
4+3 GW Sap for Fablespinner's Contest
by: Yuuki Miyaka
Part One - Ohaiyo Gozaimasu

I look at him, still sleeping as the morning wears on. He's so beautiful, so innocent. Like . . . like an angel. Perfection encased in a human form. I wonder if the lover's day I've planned will be perfect enough for him. Not that he'd think any less if it wasn't. It is simply that I prefer to make everything as beautiful, as gentle, as marvelous as him. Just like the breakfast I've made. I glance down at the tray, then balance it on one hand, nudging the bacon a slightly different position so that it looked artistic as well as edible. Beside the omelette, the toast was also a hair out of place. A slight nudge, and I look back at the bed.

He's awake. With the opening of his eyes comes an awareness I always marvel at. He is no angel when he is conscious. Instead, I'd almost call him an imp. With eyes brimming mischief, he reaches out to me, inviting me to the bed. I go to sit beside him, handing him the tray.

"Trowa," he exclaims, and the sound of his voice goes straight to my soul, warming it like nothing ever has. "Arigato. My favorite!"

I nod, well aware that my own voice is harsh beside his melodious tones and not wanting to spoil the music just yet. I watch him eat, prepared for the moment he takes a forkful and lifts it to my lips instead of his. This is a game we've played often. When I first asked him why, he said simply that since I had cooked, he must serve me. That time ended with us tussling on the bed. Well, perhaps a bit more than merely tussling. But it is for that reason that I made enough for both of us and put it on the one plate. It is so much more intimate if he is feeding me off of his own plate, rather than a separate one.

When breakfast has finished, he lays back down, snuggling into the two pillows he likes to sleep on. He doesn't like the angle my single pillow leaves his neck in, so whenever we snuggle, it is always on his pillows. I don't mind. As long as my arms are around him, my nostrils filled with his uniquely sweet scent, I would be willing to undergo any contortion. Two pillows is not bothersome in the slightest.

I lay down beside him, nipping his neck slightly just below the earlobe. He sighs, arching his head away from me, presenting his neck fully, much like you might see in old vampire movies. I chuckle at the idea, then nuzzle at the presented flesh. It's incredible how good he makes me feel with barely any effort.

We fall asleep like that, resting for another hour or so before Quatre finally snuggles away from me, blinking the sleep from his eyes. "Ne, Trowa! I want to watch that movie we bought!" I nod indulgently, rising and smoothing out my turtleneck. He scrambles into lazy clothes, nothing that should incite my passion, yet I still feel a thrill of warmth as he turns toward me. "Come on!" He holds out his hand to me, and I take it, grateful beyond words that he is here with me, that he wants me as much as I want him.

* * * * *

We walk into the living room and he immediately drags me to the couch, pushing me down on it so that I am sprawled over it. I didn't expect the move, though I suppose now I should. It is, after all, his favorite way to watch movies. He selects the video disk, pops it into the player, then drapes himself over me, cheek nestled against my chest and my arms wrapped around him. The position is at once uncomfortable and wonderful, and though I often find my circulation leaving my arms by the time the movie is over, I will never tell him that.

We laugh through a silly little romance about a love triangle. The heroine comes out on top, as always, and we are left with the vague feeling that it is a good day, made better by the sappiness of the movie. I hug him tightly, drinking in his scent, feeling his warmth and the pin-prickles which warn of impending arm failure before finally rolling him off of me.

He lands on his rump on the floor, a stunned look on his face. I can't help it. The scene draws a slight chuckle from me. From him, it pulls a giggle, then two, then three. Then he is laying flat on the floor, laughing brightly as his arms hold his stomach. That sight convinces me that this world we fought to save is worth any price, as long as it houses him upon it.

Moments later, laughing fit finished, he looks up at me. "Ne, Trowa, I'm hungry. What's for lunch?"

I grin. "Come on, funny-face. Let's see what we can make together."

"Sugoi," he said, rising and following after me.

My heart is encased in that smaller, blond package.