[Ficlet] Prowl
Aug. 17th, 2008 01:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
misanagiProwl
Pairing: 3x4
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Some angst
Words: 564
Notes: Written during the August writeathon for the last hour challenge to take the first line of a story and remix it by changing a word. I used![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thejennabides story The End of Breath. The original first line is: "Quatre's watching Trowa sleep."
---
Quatre's watching Trowa drink. One shot after another. He brings the glass to his lips, leans his head back and drinks. The glass is placed on the bar, face down and another takes it place. Trowa wraps his fingers around it and waits, taking his time between one and the next.
Quatre doesn't drink, doesn't make his presence known and just waits in shadows, a cigarette on his hand, and watches. He smokes only two, never allows himself more than two, and waits, fidgeting with the third between his fingers.
It's late when Trowa stands up. He leaves the money in the counter and heads for the door. Quatre follows, careful to keep the distance, careful to be silent. He's not discovered and after Trowa has closed the door of his apartment Quatre heads back to his own.
There are circles under his eyes in the morning but he wakes up at five, dresses and goes to work. It's ten past eleven when he receives the call, only voice, no video allowed.
"Quatre."
"How are you, Trowa?"
"Fine."
"Still in the colonies?"
"Yes."
"Do you need anything?"
"I'm fine. I'll call tomorrow."
Quatre closes his eyes and forces away the bitter taste in his mouth. When he opens them again he goes back to work and doesn't stop until nine.
His driver drops him at the bar and Quatre slips inside, finds a corner and waits. At ten Trowa walks in. This time he asks for beer. He only has two and when he leaves Quatre doesn't follow.
The next day the call comes at nine on the dot.
It's more than two weeks before Quatre is watching Trowa drink again. Whiskey, straight, no ice. Quatre smokes a cigarette and watches. He smokes his second one after midnight and it's almost two when Trowa walks out.
When Trowa is attacked he manages to handle two of the muggers before a well-placed punch to his stomach sends him to the floor. Quatre takes over. He disposes of the other two quickly and helps Trowa up.
Their eyes meet but they don't speak. Quatre takes him to his apartment and Trowa doesn't ask how he knows the way. He doesn't spend the night and the next day there's no call.
At nine Quatre heads home, instead of the bar. Trowa won't be there tonight. He's probably gone by now. But when he opens the door to his apartment he finds Trowa sitting on the couch, waiting.
Quatre pours him a whiskey, lights up a cigarette and waits.
Trowa downs his drink and says. "I lied."
"I knew."
"Why didn't you say?"
Quatre shrugs. "You didn't want me to know."
"I wasn't avoiding you."
"It didn't look like that to me."
Trowa asks for another shot and Quatre refills the glass.
"I wanted to be close to you." Trowa doesn't drink it.
"Then why hide?"
Now Trowa does drink and gives Quatre a look.
"You love me." Quatre says. "You said that last time. You don't need to hide because of it."
Trowa doesn't answer.
"I asked you to stay and you left."
"You weren't supposed to," Trowa murmurs. "You were supposed to tell me to go."
"I was supposed to reject you," Quatre says, understanding. "Why?"
And Trowa doesn't look at him.
"Do you still love me?"
Trowa nods.
"Then stay."
It's a moment, it's forever, before Trowa slowly nods again.
Pairing: 3x4
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Some angst
Words: 564
Notes: Written during the August writeathon for the last hour challenge to take the first line of a story and remix it by changing a word. I used
thejennabides story The End of Breath. The original first line is: "Quatre's watching Trowa sleep."---
Quatre's watching Trowa drink. One shot after another. He brings the glass to his lips, leans his head back and drinks. The glass is placed on the bar, face down and another takes it place. Trowa wraps his fingers around it and waits, taking his time between one and the next.
Quatre doesn't drink, doesn't make his presence known and just waits in shadows, a cigarette on his hand, and watches. He smokes only two, never allows himself more than two, and waits, fidgeting with the third between his fingers.
It's late when Trowa stands up. He leaves the money in the counter and heads for the door. Quatre follows, careful to keep the distance, careful to be silent. He's not discovered and after Trowa has closed the door of his apartment Quatre heads back to his own.
There are circles under his eyes in the morning but he wakes up at five, dresses and goes to work. It's ten past eleven when he receives the call, only voice, no video allowed.
"Quatre."
"How are you, Trowa?"
"Fine."
"Still in the colonies?"
"Yes."
"Do you need anything?"
"I'm fine. I'll call tomorrow."
Quatre closes his eyes and forces away the bitter taste in his mouth. When he opens them again he goes back to work and doesn't stop until nine.
His driver drops him at the bar and Quatre slips inside, finds a corner and waits. At ten Trowa walks in. This time he asks for beer. He only has two and when he leaves Quatre doesn't follow.
The next day the call comes at nine on the dot.
It's more than two weeks before Quatre is watching Trowa drink again. Whiskey, straight, no ice. Quatre smokes a cigarette and watches. He smokes his second one after midnight and it's almost two when Trowa walks out.
When Trowa is attacked he manages to handle two of the muggers before a well-placed punch to his stomach sends him to the floor. Quatre takes over. He disposes of the other two quickly and helps Trowa up.
Their eyes meet but they don't speak. Quatre takes him to his apartment and Trowa doesn't ask how he knows the way. He doesn't spend the night and the next day there's no call.
At nine Quatre heads home, instead of the bar. Trowa won't be there tonight. He's probably gone by now. But when he opens the door to his apartment he finds Trowa sitting on the couch, waiting.
Quatre pours him a whiskey, lights up a cigarette and waits.
Trowa downs his drink and says. "I lied."
"I knew."
"Why didn't you say?"
Quatre shrugs. "You didn't want me to know."
"I wasn't avoiding you."
"It didn't look like that to me."
Trowa asks for another shot and Quatre refills the glass.
"I wanted to be close to you." Trowa doesn't drink it.
"Then why hide?"
Now Trowa does drink and gives Quatre a look.
"You love me." Quatre says. "You said that last time. You don't need to hide because of it."
Trowa doesn't answer.
"I asked you to stay and you left."
"You weren't supposed to," Trowa murmurs. "You were supposed to tell me to go."
"I was supposed to reject you," Quatre says, understanding. "Why?"
And Trowa doesn't look at him.
"Do you still love me?"
Trowa nods.
"Then stay."
It's a moment, it's forever, before Trowa slowly nods again.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-08-17 08:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-17 10:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-19 04:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-20 07:53 pm (UTC)lol
with all his drinks he still walked.
no subject
Date: 2008-08-19 03:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-18 08:28 am (UTC)especially loved this. the sentiment behind it is so real.
no subject
Date: 2008-08-19 04:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-18 01:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-19 04:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-19 01:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-19 04:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-19 07:31 pm (UTC)