|
"Reindeer Treats"Written By: Dentelle_noir Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing AC or the
characters. GW belongs to Bandai, Sotsu and associated parties. This
is a work of fiction and written for fun, not profit Rating: PG 13 Warnings: Rice Krispies. Pairings: 3x4 Summary: Quatre decides to make Trowa a treat
for Christmas "Reindeer Treats" Trowa awoke suddenly, his senses on high alert. The first thing that registered to him was that Quatre was not in bed beside him and he could hear muffled curses and whines in the otherwise silent house. It was 1:10 am. Quickly, Trowa was armed and out into the hallway, moving closer to the sounds. But after a few more choice curses and “Oh Fuck.” Trowa had settled down. He prided himself on having learned to distinguish Quatre’s ‘we’re surrounded on all sides’ oh Fuck, from Quatre’s ‘that was my favorite vase’ Oh Fuck, and he could even tell if he meant ‘that’s going to be a mess to clean’ from the ‘I am so screwed’ Oh Fuck as well. That one had been an ‘I’m in over my head and I hope I can hide the evidence quickly’ oh Fuck Arming himself with a broom instead as he rounded into the kitchen, Trowa was stopped in his tracks by the war zone in front of him. There was a foot of waxed paper laid out on the island surrounded by neglected plastic moulds, two or three discarded spoons and utensils, and four different pots (starting with the smallest they owned up to the huge serving salad bowl) dirtied and strewn haphazardly around. The carcasses of Rice Krispies boxes and marshmallow bags crackled under his feet. And it the middle of it all stood Quatre, elbow-deep in his sticky creation, unable to separate his arms from his mixture, and practically growling at it in frustration. It was 1:12 Am. Quatre turned to look at the intruder with determined rage, but when he saw it was Trowa his face quickly melted into despair. “I can’t get it off! First I couldn’t get it all in the pot, so I went up to the next size, and then the next until I found one it fit. But the only thing it fit in was the bowl, and it got cold, so I couldn’t mix it at all, so I decided to mix it by hand, like with dough, and now...” Quatre tried to save as much of his labor as he could by trying to get it off his arm and into the near-empty bowl. But he only succeeded in getting more stuck on one arm than the other. “I could eat it off you if you wish?” Trowa purred, abandoning his broom to come up behind his vulnerable lover and nibble on his neck softly. Quatre crashed his heel into Trowa’s foot so hard he made Trowa utter ‘oh Fuck” in none of the aforementioned contexts. “This is Not the time for that! I need help!” Quatre growled, nailing his lover with another swift kick to his shin to prove his point. Trowa assessed the situation, “Slather yourself in butter.” Quatre gave him another vicious kick to the shin, almost doubling Trowa over with the voracity, “This is REALLY not the time for your kinks, Trowa!” Trowa shot his lover a dark look and opened up the fridge, thanking his lucky starts that their cook bought the huge Costco tubs of margarine, and after a quick wash of his hands, he slicked himself up to the wrist and began to easily remove the Rice Krispies from his lover’s arms and disarm them into the bowl. After Quatre had seen that Trowa had been right (and once he regained the movement on one of his hands) Quatre took a scoop and began to roll it around in his hands, gawking in amazement as the mixture peeled right off him. “What did you want to do with this?” Trowa gestured to the mixture, figuring Quatre wanted shapes from the molds strewn nearby. He might as well have helped, since he was already covered. Quatre quickly began to stuff handfuls of the mixture into one mold after another. Soon though, the work began to take much, much longer. “The stuff’s getting cold and setting! Damn it!” Quatre complained, but simply began to create less-perfect Christmas tree moldings to speed up. Trowa followed his lover’s lead, speeding up his Snow-man shaped assembly line he had going, but decided to start a conversation to get him active (at 1: 22 am, he reminded himself) “Why are you doing this when you should be in bed, Cat?” He groaned as he was handed a star-mold to replace the snow-man and kept going. “Still on L2 time.” Quatre responded. “Bull. You were sleeping on L4 time while you were there. Insomnia this bad?” Trowa tried, rolling a particularly sticky star from the mold and slicking his hands up with substantial amounts of margarine again. Quatre didn’t respond right away, just tried to fit the rapidly cooling mixture into the Gingerbread man shape, but that mold wasn’t rounded, resembling more of a box than a circle and Quatre was trying his damndest to get the handful of sticky cereal into it. It was not working like the others, “Damn you Kellogg’s! Damn you!” he cursed and avoided the question. After Quatre got one gingerbread man out (in the time it took Trowa to set 3 snowmen) he threw the mold in the general direction of the sink and returned to the trees. “You’re sister told me you like them. I wanted to surprise you in the morning with Christmas baking. I know you celebrate Christmas, and I celebrate the commercial Santa-Clause holiday of it all. I thought this was all part of being normal. But I screwed it up.” Quatre finally surrendered with a depressed sigh. He also moved onto making some more snowmen to even out the shape inequality. Trowa felt a smile creeping onto his face. Covered with butter and Krispies as he was, Trowa couldn’t very well hug his lover, so he bumped his hips against his lover and dropped a kiss onto his temple. “You’re doing fine, Quatre. These look great. And I was surprised. And it is morning... 1: 28 Am to be exact.” For the third time that night Trowa’s shin was brutally assaulted, but the pain was nothing compared to the amused smile that lit up Quatre’s face. Soon they were making the last one, Quatre turning his back to Trowa to hide what he was doing to the last of the near-set mix. After washing his hands off in hot water to dissolve the clinging strands of marshmallow and remove the oily residue of the margarine, Trowa gripped his lover’s hips and pulled him into his body, wrapping his now-clean arms around the blonde teasingly. “What are you making?” he asked while he trailed kisses down Quatre’s neck and exposed bits of shoulder. Quatre leaned back into his lover’s arms and finally held out his creation. A little red and green speckled Rice Krispy Heart was propped up in Quatre’s still-covered hand. Trowa smiled, moving around to take Quatre’s lips with his own. “I love you too.”
|
