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"Morning Coffee "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: AU, 'Keep in Time' Universe Pairings: 3x4 Summary: Dimitri and Petra have their morning
coffee as they watch Trowa and Quatre warming up on the rink. "Morning Coffee " Dimitri yawned over the brewing coffee machine, waiting for it to fill so he wouldn’t burn himself and ruin the pot, staring at it sleepily. Petra walked in, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard and putting them down beside her half-sleeping husband, then moved to sit at the desk. “What do you think you’re doing? No coffee for you. It’s bad for the baby” Dinitri said in a dry tone. Damn. She thought he might have forgotten. Plan B “Just half a cup.” “No. Bad for the baby, you can’t have any.” Dimitri repeated with limitless patience. “Half a cup isn’t going to hurt it! You don’t have to be the coffee-police, you know! It’s my one vice, I do everything else all natural and balanced, and damn it, I’m a moody pregnant lady and I want my morning coffee.” Pertra said, crossing his arms angrily and hoping it would work. “Just half a cup!” “FINE” Dimitri said, moving around in their mini-fridge. Petra preened, grining happily at the desk, “Thank you, Dim, you’re so good to- HEY!” and her face turned stony as Dimitri proudly put down half a cup of perky, bright Florida orange juice in front of her. She looked at it, marring her favorite coffee cup with its orange sunshiny colour, and pouted, “I want a divorce” “No you don’t.” Dimitri said, pouring himself his coffee and shaking some milk into it. He sat down across from his wife and drank it. Sip by delicious sip. “Who would look after Boshka?” Petra glanced out the window and saw Trowa there, his skates already on and moving around the rink to get his circulation going. A moment later he was joined by Quatre, tossing a mitten at the taller skater and forcing him to wait for the slower one. Playfully, Trowa grabbed the mitten, holding it high, and began to skate away from the blonde, laughing so loud they could hear it in the quiet of the upstairs office, ‘Come and GET IT!” he called, starting to race around the rink, making Quatre follow. It didn’t take long for Quatre to catch up, just as Trowa wanted obviously, since Quatre’s idea of ‘catching’ was wrapping the skater in a hug and planting a toe-curling kiss on him. “Yeah... I can see how your supervision is really helping him keep his head in skating.” Petra said with a dry chuckle. Dimitri smiled, “well...he’s warming UP isn’t he?” “Cheeky bastard” Petra groaned, flicking him playfully. “I don’t know if I like this arrangement.” She finally said, looking over at her husband. “I know...it seems a little unusual, but none of the girls you tried worked with Trowa, and he needs to keep in shape. And Quatre’s not bad for him, either; He’s just as devoted as Trowa is. And he’s teaching Trowa different things-- Not like THAT.” Dimitri said, nose twitching “I don’t want to know about that part of it, please.” Petra looked back out to the rink, eyes widening, “What the Hell....Is that a layback!” Out on the rink, that was exactly what Quatre was doing, leaning back far over, back parallel to the ice, and staying there with his hands up in a rough circle aloft his torso. Trowa skated around him, then when he had some momentum, he kicked into a tight spin and reclined, following Quatre’s movements and trying it out on the ice, the momentum of the spin helping to keep him focused. Kicking his toe into the ice, Trowa stopped abruptly, posed perfectly back, arms up above him, then loosely let them fall beside him, “mimicking a flower in bloom” as Quatre had said. Then he rolled back up from it with a cocky grin, “See. REAL MEN do laybacks!” he retorted to the blonde, flicking his nose, then racing off to ring the ice faster, making Quatre work to keep up. “Oh lordy, what have we gotten ourselves into?”
Petra said, happily sipping on her husband’s coffee, nicked right
out from under his nose.
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