Disclaimer: Guess what…I still don't own Gundam or any of its characters

Disclaimer: Guess what…I still don't own Gundam or any of its characters! Amazing, but true.

Author's Notes: Again, I'm sorry about the delay in writing this, but inspiration has been avoiding me like the plague. In fact, it still hasn't visited me, but I'm going out hunting with my laptop and inspiration-catching net (like a butterfly net, but with fewer holes). Please forgive me if this sucks butt, and if you like Outlaw Star, read the fic I'll be posting about it soon. As always, I have low self-esteem (though it's been gradually raising lately for reasons with which I shall not bore you), and I need you to review, even if you already have. Hopefully, this chapter will satisfy y'all's requests and be pleasing. Shibby!

Dorothy's Point of View

When I woke up, I was very warm. I usually detest warmth and heat, but this warmth, which was pressing up against my back and holding me close to itself, was comfortable. It made me not feel cold inside, just like when Papa let me crawl into bed with him early in the morning. I smiled and curled into the warmth a little more. 'Just a few more minutes' sleep,' I thought, my voice sounding sleep-rough even in my mind. I was just then beginning to doze again, when the warmth said, "humph," and pulled me still closer to itself. It yawned and sighed, then began to speak in a deep voice, "good morning, Miss Dorothy. Did you sleep well?"

My eyelids snapped up, nearly audible I swear, like window shades. I was swept up in a torrent of emotions in that moment when I realized what—rather who—the warmth was. I loved the way his voice rumbled in his chest and how I could feel it right down to my toes. I was shocked that I woke up to that thunderous angel voice. I was angry that he had stayed in my bed all night. I was embarrassed at what the servants were going to think and, no doubt, say. Mostly, I was glad that he was there. I felt like crying again, but I had a horrible headache and sore eyes from the last crying I'd had. I struggled but at last found words to respond. "Better than I have in years." Only after I said it, did I realize how true it was. Regaining my precious composure, which Quatre had been tearing to shreds since my arrival, I rolled over in his arms to face him and asked, "and I trust that you slept well, too?"

"Actually, I didn't. Holding the most beautiful woman to walk the Earth since Helen of Troy can have that effect on a man." I must have stared back at him with a blank face because he continued, "I'm just joking. I slept wonderfully. It felt like we fit…." He trailed off and looked at me in much the same way I was regarding him. Silently and appreciatively.

He looked like Cupid must have when he woke up next to Psyche. His blond hair was mussed, but adorably so. His eyes were bright, though not fully awake. His shirt was rumbled. His suspenders were off of his shoulders, lying on his legs, which were still incased by the dark blue pants (also wrinkled). I felt something fall off the shelf inside of me and shatter. The bottom of my stomach fell out, and my composure went with it. I swear, there was never a more beautiful sight anywhere in the universe. I began to wonder why he was admiring me. I must have looked a fright with my tangled hair and day-old make-up. Again I wanted to cry, but this time for joy that such a lovely cherub thought that I was lovely too.

Quatre's Point of View

I couldn't stop making an ass of myself. First I had said she was as beautiful ad Helen of Troy, and now I was staring at her like she was some kind of circus oddity. Not that she looked like one at all! She was breath-taking, a little worse for wear, but breath-taking nonetheless. The words angel, goddess, nymph, Venus, siren all leapt to my mind, but they were all to base to describe my Dorothy. She was without equal that morning. Tangled hair, snow-white skin, stormy and swollen lavender-gray eyes, quivering red lip. Finally, I saw the real Dorothy, and she was perfect. How I did love to see her vulnerable like that, in my arms, begging for affection and love. I always loved to see her strong with her rapier wit at the ready, but that sweet, lost child I held in my arms that morning I love as well. I knew that Dorothy was hiding within the caustic armor, and I reveled in seeing her. I longed to kiss her but perished the thought. She was still learning to be this girl, and I'd be damned if I hurt her. Oh but, her cherry lips were tempting. I could feel her breath; she was breathing heavily. I paused a moment to hear her melodic pant and heard another in tune with it. When had I run out of breath? Why did her eyes look so cloudy? Why was she closing them? Why was she raising her face toward mine? Oh Allah!

No One's Point of View

Both felt that nervous pleasure, the euphoric rush just before a kiss. Dorothy flushed and closed her eyes, stopping millimeters away from Quatre's lips. 'Please, meet half way, just one more time,' she thought as they hovered barely separated for that eternity in a moment.

He felt that words were necessary, but couldn't find any. He thought quickly, just as impatient to kiss as Dorothy was. The only words he could land upon he whispered, lips brushing together as he did so, "I love you."

Dorothy clenched her eyes tighter shut, and tears slid down her cheek. Quatre decided to end the sweet misery. He closed the rest of the space between their lips. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and neck, while he set one hand around her waist and used the other to hold the back of her head. The kiss was sweet, but soon they long for more than the pressing together of lips….

Dun, dun, dun! What will happen now? I don't think I'll do a lemon (yet), but things could get citrusy. If they do, I'll bump the rating up, and there'll be a big old warning at the top so you'll know what to expect. Tell me what you think.