Warning/Pairing: 4x3, sap and fluff

December 16th

When You're Not There

Trowa doesn't sleep in our bed when I'm not there. I didn't know that, at least not until I got home early from a business trip tonight and found him curled up on the couch with a pillow and blanket. I took my bag upstairs and found the bed perfectly made, just missing the pillow. I'm the only person who makes the bed; Trowa prefers it messy so I knew it hadn't been slept in since the last time I made it. I hadn't been home in a week.

It was Christmas Eve, which is why I had cancelled meetings and rushed through meetings to get back home. Even so, it was nearly two o'clock in the morning and I was exhausted.

I'm gone a lot. Trowa never says anything, just helps me pack my bag, makes sure I have spare ties and reminds me to come home soon. He keeps busy while I'm gone; does repairs around the house, has hobbies such as restoring old motorcycles, visits friends and does part-time work for Preventers.

That doesn't change the fact though that I'm often gone more than I'm at home; I've been especially busy these past two months. I'd been asked to perform as a moderator between two merging companies and the process was slow and time consuming.

The lights on the tree were blinking on and off occasionally. The colors flashed softly against Trowa's face and I stood there in awe thinking that this must be what peace felt like because I couldn't describe the feeling as any other.

I crouched down in front of the couch, knowing that my presence would wake him, especially since I wasn't supposed to be home. Even though he still looked asleep, I knew for a fact he wasn't and called out to him quietly.

"Trowa."

He smiled and the lights chose that moment to flash, making his eyes shine like a cat.

He pushed his blanket down and wrapped arms around me, pulling me toward him. I crawled under the covers and snuggled in, enjoying his warmth and the solidness of him beside me.

I could tell he was drifting asleep again, his breath was evening out and his arms relaxed their hold on me. But I wanted to know what he was doing here and not in bed, so I lifted a hand to run it through his hair.

"Why are you sleeping on the couch?"

Trowa doesn't like having his hair messed with and I chuckled softly when he scowled slightly, half asleep. Finally he pulled me closer but cracked open an eye to peer at me. "What?"

I laughed. "Why are you sleeping on the couch?"

"It's here." Ok, so maybe he wasn't quite as awake as I first thought. I poked him gently and tried again.

"So is the bed. And it's bigger."

This time he rolled over so he was on his back and pulled me on top of him. "But it's cold. And smells like you but you're not there when I wake up."

I was silent then, his comment wasn't meant to be a reproach, but he probably wouldn't have said it if I'd asked him in the morning. Which was all the more telling. I knew he missed me when I was gone but not sleeping in our bed . . . I couldn't decide if I should laugh or cry.

I tried to sit up to look at him better but he held me tighter, and I gave up and let him hold me. "I'm sorry," I told him.

He grumbled and patted me absently on the back. "So stop moving so much." And then he was too asleep to answer anymore, hair falling out of his face so I could see him clearly.

So stop moving so much.

I knew he meant stop squirming. He's said something similar to me almost every Saturday we've ever slept in. I get up early Monday thru Friday so it's difficult to adjust to sleeping in. I want to be up and about but Trowa has told me many times that getting out of bed at six in the morning on a Saturday is grounds for a psychiatric evaluation.

But this time I listened and heard all the words he wasn't saying as well. I thought about all the meals he eats alone, all the nights he must sleep on the couch because our bed is too lonely.

Even the Christmas tree; he'd insisted we put it up and decorate two weeks ago because he knew I would be gone the week before Christmas.

And he'd wanted to decorate it together.

I imagined him home alone decorating the tree and my eyes started to burn so I turned my head to bury my face in his neck.

I know that didn't happen but it could have. When did I stop thinking about Trowa and more about when my next flight was? When did work become more important than my loved ones?

I hadn't even bought Christmas presents for anyone because I wasn't going to be home for Christmas. I was deeply ashamed to admit I'd been cruising airport gift shops for potential presents just that evening. Here Trowa, Merry Christmas. Have a rock that was stamped in Albuquerque, New Mexico.

I realized that this was unacceptable and made a decision. I shifted, inching out of his arms and slid off the couch. I pulled the blanket up more firmly around his shoulders and then quietly went into the study and shut the door.

If my plan was going to succeed, I had work to do.

o

Trowa woke up slowly the next morning. He squinted from the sun shining in his eyes and lay there for a moment, warm and remembering his dream. He'd been sleeping with Quatre. Trowa didn't remember details, Quatre's laugh, a hand against his cheek. Mostly it was just the feeling of having someone with you, warm and there.

The tree seemed to mock Trowa with its presents below, none of which Quatre would be seeing for several more days. He groaned and threw off the blanket, standing and wincing when his neck cracked. The couch wasn't as nice of a place to sleep as the bed but in a way it was more comfortable. Trowa was drinking his first cup of coffee and watching the snow sparkle outside when he realized that he'd been ignoring a nagging feeling ever since he woke up. It felt like he wasn't alone. It was almost as if Quatre was just in the shower or upstairs in bed.

Annoyed, Trowa decided to email Wufei and ask if he had any plans for the day. If nothing else they could get together and watch football on TV.

But when he went into the study there was already somebody there. Quatre in fact. Fast asleep at his desk, head in his arms, a pen still clutched in one hand.

Trowa stood in the doorway, confused and then realized he must not have been dreaming last night and smiled. Quatre had made it home for Christmas.

There were papers all over the desk, but from what Trowa could tell they were sorted and completed. He picked one up and looked it over. It appeared to be a letter explaining that Winner Enterprises was downsizing and reducing its involvement in the business world. WE would no longer be available for mediation or other consultation arrangements. Another letter was addressed to Quatre's sister and appeared to be turning over most of the company's day to day operations to her.

Trowa reached out and took the pen from Quatre's hand. He walked around behind the desk and dropped to his knees, resting his head on the other man's leg. Quatre shifted and then sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"Hey." Trowa looked up to meet Quatre's gaze.

"I don't have a Christmas present for you." Quatre told him bitterly.

Trowa stood up and pulled the other man up with him, wrapping him in a hug and holding him close.

"That's not true. You just gave me the best present of all."