Disclaimer: Gundam Wing doesn't belong to me. I didn't make any profit writing this.
Pairing: Well...so it's 4x3 I suppose though it's just sort of mentioned as this future possiblity...
Warning: points above.
December 4th
Answers in the Snowfall
The snow reminded him of space. Staring up into the night sky, it was almost as if he was spinning through the stars once again. He felt a moment of vertigo, as if the ground had dropped from beneath him for a second. Then he lowered his gaze and the moment was lost.
Not a happy memory.
A gust of wind blew snow in his face and he pulled the scarf around his neck closer. It'd been a gift from Quatre that afternoon. As a present it was normal enough, but Trowa knew there was more behind it than just the presentation of a simple gift.
Quatre wanted something.
Trowa was not unfamiliar with same sex relationships. He'd grown up with mercenaries after all. It wasn't uncommon to turn to another man for physical release. But what Quatre wanted was more than a physical release.
And Trowa wasn't sure he could give that.
The scarf was warm though, and practical. Despite Quatre's lifestyle and appearance, Trowa had always been impressed by how practical the man was. Following his orders during battle, he couldn't help but admire the cold logical ruthlessness Quatre wielded.
It was only later, as he stood hesitantly in the doorway of the med bay, that he discovered even practical people could cry.
In the end, Trowa had left. Gone back to the circus and to the life that didn't require much more than for him to do his job. And yet, he'd still thought about Quatre. The way he'd been so fierce in battle, so euphoric in victory, so sad when coming down. So very alive.
When he'd received the invitation to spend Christmas with him, Trowa realized he wanted to see the other pilot again. He wanted to see if Quatre was just as alive as he remembered.
And so he'd come.
Standing now, in the dark and the cold, watching the flakes fall around him in swirls, he wondered if he'd always come when Quatre called.
The house stood behind him, it's windows glowing warmly in the dark. A beacon to guide him back if he so chose.
Out of the dark a figure appeared, silently standing beside him. Quatre didn't look at him but stared out across the field as if searching for the answers to questions Trowa still hadn't formed.
"I didn't get you anything."
Quatre shrugged. "That's ok."
Somehow though, Trowa felt it wasn't.
"Why did you invite me?"
For a while there was silence, only twin puffs of white breath disturbing the air. Then Quatre spoke. "I was once told that if you don't listen to your heart, your soul won't find peace."
He thought about that for a moment the nodded. "Sage advice. An old mentor?"
Quatre looked up towards the sky, staring at the snow as it fell. Then he grinned. "A fortune cookie actually."
Trowa threw back his head and laughed.
It felt good.