I actually have fic, gundam wing fic.
Title: Music
Author:![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fractured_sun
Wordcount; 450
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: Quatre/Trowa
Warnings: Should I warn for fluffy sap?
Authors Note: This written for![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
gw500 prompt 002: A piece of GW art - points to the icon (which was created by misanagi) which I used for my prompt for this challenge.
The argument had been familiar, well trodden ground being revisited with no destination ever reached. Quatre wandered aimlessly itching for a distraction, mind running in circles as he considered the supply problems at one resource satellite and the labour issues facing another. He had promised though, promised Trowa that he wouldn’t do anything work related at all for the next two days, and “yes” his partner had reminded him with uncharacteristic sharpness “that included playing with politics, or doing paperwork for one of his charitable foundations.” Quatre frowned he wasn’t stressed, or tired and he relaxed just fine even when Trowa had been away for a fortnight, whatever he and Rashid thought. Quatre checked his watch, ten minutes since he had last looked and still an hour before Trowa was due back; he doubled back down the corridor wondering if Rashid was busy or if he felt like getting beaten at chess. He stopped at the music room drawn in by memories and a vague sense of longing. Quatre stopped and opened the case running his fingers down smooth wood, smiling slightly to himself before taking the violin in his hand and tucking it under his chin.
Trowa was pulled along the corridor by the faint strains of music, unerringly drawn to Quatre. He stopped at the doorway, holding himself perfectly still as he watched Quatre, enjoying the tranquillity in his face. Light from the window streaming in illuminating the planes of Quatre’s face, he looked tired and yet both radiant and calm. For a moment it seemed as if it wasn’t the man standing there at all but the 16 year old Quatre had been when they first met, for that moment Trowa himself could almost be a teenager again too finding a small space of peace within war. Trowa smiled gently watching his partner, as he continued to play undisturbed by Trowa’s gaze. Gradually the notes rose in a gentle unspoken invitation, Trowa smiled crossing the room soundlessly as the music filled the air. Wordlessly Trowa lifted the flute to his lips answering the violin allowing the notes to intertwine and carry away their worries.
The last note had faded to nothing, and yet neither of them moved still revelling in the connection between them. Quatre opened his eyes first turning to Trowa as Trowa turned to him sharing a smile. No need to speak that look saying everything he had been longing to say for the last two weeks. The instruments were carefully almost tenderly packed away, safe until the next time. They left the room in step shoulder to shoulder, close but not touching until Quatre reached out to curl his fingers around Trowa’s.
“Welcome home.”
*Grins* yay I'm writing again (even if it's short).... must keep it up. Been writing a doctor who/ highlander crossover too... it's going to be a monster if I ever finish it, therr's a lot of time and space to cover :0), and I am clearly on 3x4 roll because I want to write more of 'politics and reality' and hopefully get to the happy bits this time.
Title: Music
Author:
fractured_sunWordcount; 450
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: Quatre/Trowa
Warnings: Should I warn for fluffy sap?
Authors Note: This written for
gw500 prompt 002: A piece of GW art - points to the icon (which was created by misanagi) which I used for my prompt for this challenge.The argument had been familiar, well trodden ground being revisited with no destination ever reached. Quatre wandered aimlessly itching for a distraction, mind running in circles as he considered the supply problems at one resource satellite and the labour issues facing another. He had promised though, promised Trowa that he wouldn’t do anything work related at all for the next two days, and “yes” his partner had reminded him with uncharacteristic sharpness “that included playing with politics, or doing paperwork for one of his charitable foundations.” Quatre frowned he wasn’t stressed, or tired and he relaxed just fine even when Trowa had been away for a fortnight, whatever he and Rashid thought. Quatre checked his watch, ten minutes since he had last looked and still an hour before Trowa was due back; he doubled back down the corridor wondering if Rashid was busy or if he felt like getting beaten at chess. He stopped at the music room drawn in by memories and a vague sense of longing. Quatre stopped and opened the case running his fingers down smooth wood, smiling slightly to himself before taking the violin in his hand and tucking it under his chin.
Trowa was pulled along the corridor by the faint strains of music, unerringly drawn to Quatre. He stopped at the doorway, holding himself perfectly still as he watched Quatre, enjoying the tranquillity in his face. Light from the window streaming in illuminating the planes of Quatre’s face, he looked tired and yet both radiant and calm. For a moment it seemed as if it wasn’t the man standing there at all but the 16 year old Quatre had been when they first met, for that moment Trowa himself could almost be a teenager again too finding a small space of peace within war. Trowa smiled gently watching his partner, as he continued to play undisturbed by Trowa’s gaze. Gradually the notes rose in a gentle unspoken invitation, Trowa smiled crossing the room soundlessly as the music filled the air. Wordlessly Trowa lifted the flute to his lips answering the violin allowing the notes to intertwine and carry away their worries.
The last note had faded to nothing, and yet neither of them moved still revelling in the connection between them. Quatre opened his eyes first turning to Trowa as Trowa turned to him sharing a smile. No need to speak that look saying everything he had been longing to say for the last two weeks. The instruments were carefully almost tenderly packed away, safe until the next time. They left the room in step shoulder to shoulder, close but not touching until Quatre reached out to curl his fingers around Trowa’s.
“Welcome home.”
*Grins* yay I'm writing again (even if it's short).... must keep it up. Been writing a doctor who/ highlander crossover too... it's going to be a monster if I ever finish it, therr's a lot of time and space to cover :0), and I am clearly on 3x4 roll because I want to write more of 'politics and reality' and hopefully get to the happy bits this time.
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