"Best in Show"

Written By: Kaeru Shisho

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.

Rating: R

Warnings: AU, male/male pairings, language

Pairings: 3x4

Summary: Quatre is far from home, drained by work, and his dog handlers are dropping out. He's becoming an emotional mess. How will he survive the dog show?

"Best in Show "

Chapter Three

Quatre

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"I am sorry and I do feel terribly guilty about how I treated him!" Quatre cried out and gave the door a kick with his polished shoe. "Oh, Rashid… it is so frustrating!"

"There was a time before cellphones when all people had was patience and the hope that you could contact the person of interest in person." Rashid quirked an eyebrow and smiled.

"When dinosaurs walked the earth, I suppose," Quatre quipped back with a strained smile.

Unable to talk to Trowa was absolutely maddening, especially in ways he didn't want to admit to his friend and secretary-bodyguard. Trowa Barton had been terribly intriguing and attractive in a virile way. Such broad shoulders and sultry stares. He probably would never see him again after the show. Quatre would return to his colony and Trowa would go his way, where ever that was. His forefinger flew swiftly over the keys of his cell phone typing out a message without the use of autocorrect. Even so, he had good breeding and it never hurt to be courteous or to leave a good impression. He completed his message and pressed "send".

"He doesn't answer! I simply want to apologize properly. I think the dinner party would be a nice gesture."

"I see. So, do you think Mr. Barton will appreciate a text invitation?"

"No, I don't. It's insensitive, of course, but he hasn't answered any calls and he doesn't answer his door. What am I supposed to do?"

Kick, kick!

"Consider, sir, the possibilities from his point of view. Wouldn't he be spending time with the dog? Getting familiar with him?"

"So, you think he's with Alfie? Of course! Why didn't we go to Alfie's room first?"

"He and Alfie could have been most anywhere in the building. You have been conducting conference calls off and on all day. You haven't had time to look everywhere and most importantly you work far too hard, if I may say so." He turned Quatre around by a shoulder-hold and they walked away. "This was to be a holiday," Rashid said in a gentle tone. "Why, you haven't seen any of Sanc, and I have it on good authority that it is a very beautiful city."

Quatre crumpled against the big man. "I know! I know." Taking a moment to collect himself, taking four deep, slow breaths, granted Quatre time to plan his next step. "I will try to have some fun, but first, I need to check on Alfie."

"Very well, sir," Rashid said approvingly.

Alfie's door was ajar; Quatre could hear the rumbling of a man's laughter and the playful growls of his dog. He didn't want to disrupt whatever was going on inside, but he was dying to see, so he gently, silently pushed the door wider.

Quatre's breath hitched. His knees weakened.

Trowa was on his back on the floor. And then he started bending in a kind of backwards pushup, leveraging his spine up into a smooth curve, his chest bent up and outwards.

That oh, so masculine lean arch! Quatre wanted his hands on him to feel the taut muscles underneath, but instead he pressed his hands over his own mouth so he wouldn't cry out. No one should know! He didn't even want to admit to himself how he felt. Once before Quatre had had to curb his desires in a public place. Then it had been an older boy, one of the brothers of a recently married sister of Quatre's. His eyes had been so beautiful, dark and surrounded by long lashes. His smile kind and gentle. Quatre had returned a smile and nearly drowned in that recognizable wave of lust coming from the other boy.

And it was totally, absolutely out of the question that he should pursue a friendship that might lead to an improper relationship as long as he resided in his family's compound. He lived with and worked in his family's business; thus, he represented Winner Mining and Energy Corporation. Homosexuality was forbidden in the L4 colony and Winner Corps was the colony. He never saw the other boy again.

This time, however, he wasn't in his colony. He was Sanc. Gay was okay, read the fact sheets. Another thing that was different was that he was older now. Eighteen! Also, he was certain that the feeling that he had of overwhelming desire was coming from within his own head, not Trowa's. Trowa hadn't even noticed his presence. Trowa couldn't see him. His head was upside down and turned away, watching Alfie.

"Go!" Trowa said, and Alfie jumped to action.

In a brown blur, the dog dashed under the "bridge" of convex torso and spun about to come at him again. This time Alfie bounded up onto Trowa's midsection to retrieve some tiny treat that had been balanced on a button. A back foot scraped along Trowa's shirt and pushed it up, revealing a tantalizing strip of tanned skin.

Quatre's mouth watered. His fingers twitched.

"Good boy!" Trowa said, lowering his back flat to floor, and then chuckling when the dog lay on him, stretching full length and Quatre nearly groaned with desire, catching the sound in his tightening throat.

The waves of longing and hunger for the illicit need wasn't coming from Trowa. It was all his own doing. He lusted for that lean arch like nobody's business. And now, all he wanted to do was blanket himself over that arch… like Alfie… and run his tongue over the warm skin…

Oh God!

How he wanted to do that, licking his way up to Trowa's face! And then Alfie licked his chin and Quatre maybe did moan. Alfie heard him and Quatre thought he saw Trowa's lips move, but anything the handler said was lost in the pounding of his own heartbeat. Trowa's lips… lovely lips… and what eyes he had! No wonder he hid that intense green stare under his bangs!

Alfie was all action again, using those firm abs under foot as a bouncing off point, launching himself at his owner. And Trowa didn't wince or twitch. Quatre's eyes never left his.

"Yip! Ruff!" Alfie barked, demanding his master's full and complete attention, as if to say, "Did you see that? Did you see what I did?! Aren't I great?!"

Quatre was afraid to say what he'd been thinking, so he covered up his nervousness with laughing until he could finally blurt out, "That's was brilliant!"

OhMyGod! OhMyGod! OhMyGod!

Quatre pressed his lips together with such force he could taste blood. He had never, EVER felt an emotional punch like that before. It was certainly not a terrible thing, but the impact of another's man's lust for him so completely unadulterated by other feelings and matched equally by his own desire was all so powerful! It had nearly knocked him out. And yet… He ached to act on it. This was different than anything he'd experienced. Like his own heat fueled a blaze in Trowa that flashed back at him.

The next he knew, Trowa was standing over him, partially holding him from his waist up. "Are you all right? Want me to call someone… your…secretary, ah, Rashid? Should I go get him?" Trowa asked.

Quatre gazed up into the green eyes. Umm, this was nice. How had he gotten here, he wondered? He shook his head, remembering. "No! I mean, yes… I'm all right." He moved to sit up. "There's no need to call Rashid, he's right there." But one look at the door told him Rashid had at some point closed it and left. "I'm fine."

Almost instantly he regretted saying that. The warm arms pushed him away, leaving him to sit on his own. He felt a puzzling strangeness, a chill washing over him as Trowa slipped away and his concerned expression turned judgmental again.

"You shouldn't let Alfie jump on you so hard," Trowa concluded. "I'll show you how to teach him to wait until he's asked. He's a smart dog. You reward him with affection each time he does that, so he thinks it's what you want."

"I don't-!" Quatre stopped himself. Of course the other man was right and Quatre knew it. He just didn't like being told what to do. But! "You're right. My discipline hasn't always been very effective. When we have time, I would appreciate training from you."

"Okay." And Trowa smiled at him.

Quatre's mind was bathed in a golden warmth. He closed his eyes and soaked it up. That earlier cold chill was long gone. "I was looking all over for you," he said. "I tried calling you but you didn't pick up."

"I was busy," Trowa began.

Quatre's eyes snapped open. "I know-"

Trowa continued looking gruff a moment before giving up being tough and aloof with a weary shrug. "I haven't got my cell phone on me. I don't know where I put it."

"That explains a lot," Quatre grinned. "I've lost mine dozens of times. I bet we can find yours though. It has to be in the building, right?"

"Probably. I noticed it missing when I was outside."

"So, when did you last know you had it?" Quatre asked. When Trowa shrugged again, Quatre thought harder. "You had it when I last saw you. Remember? We exchanged numbers. Here's the time stamp on that. And look, when I scan my call history, it shows that I called you an hour later and you didn't pick up. See?"

"There are lots of messages and calls to me," Trowa noted. "What was so urgent? You knew I'd be working with Alfie."

"Well, I wanted to—" What was that? Quatre stopped talking and listened. "Is that a phone buzzing?"

"Yeah, I punched a redial to my phone." Trowa smiled. "That's my ringtone."

"Then it's here someplace!" Quatre jumped to his feet. "Over here!"

Alfie ran ahead of them both, diving into his commodious carrier, and hid inside with a bark.

"Alfie has it!"

After retrieving the phone and locking Alfie in his crate, Quatre handed it over. "I'm sorry he left bite marks on the case. Alfie does like leather. I didn't know he was a little thief!"

"I like leather, too," Trowa murmured. When he lookup up, Quatre caught a sparkle, a glitter of mirth in those green eyes. "It's okay, though. It probably fell out of my pocket and he simply felt it was a case of finders-keepers. The phone's good. It works."

Quatre kneeled in front of the crate. "Bad dog. Though I suppose it's too late to make you understand what you did wrong." It was then that he noticed how pretty Alfie looked. "You got his nails done!"

"Um, yeah, sorry about that. I didn't know—"

Quatre cut off what sounded like an apology from Trowa who, from his point of view, was blameless. Quatre on the other hand held himself responsible for all the problems.

"Of course you didn't. I should have given you all the information. I've done a terrible job here. Mr. Tousand knew about so much without my interference. He's been my handler forever, you see. But how stupid of me! It wasn't at all fair to you." Quatre gave what he hoped would be taken as his most winning smile. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate everything you've done. Oh, he's all groomed! All over! How truly wonderful! I'm thrilled to death you did all this. I have been so scattered, you see. I got into the habit of letting my old handler take care of everything. It's really all my fault. I'm really very sorry."

"Um, okay. It's all right then? I took him outside and he got into some fun."

"Outside? Wasn't it raining? I bet he liked that! He's never felt the rain. It hardly ever rains in the L4 colony. How lucky for him! I haven't been out at all! But I can't tell you how impressed I am that you took the initiative and got Alfie looking so nice… all the hard work out of the way, you know, so all that's left are the finer details I just LOVE doing."

"Um, I'm glad about that then." Trowa seemed to relax a little bit, his stiff stance slackening off.

Pleased with his progress with befriending his new handler, Quatre let himself unwind a little too. "Let me show you THIS!" He was very proud of Alfie's tack collection. "I adore grooming Alfie to show off his best features. There are very strict rules and traditions governing proper grooming. I work very hard at doing a good job."

"Speaking of grooming," Trowa said. "I ran into that other handler you mentioned, Duo Maxwell?"

"You did? Isn't he (gorgeous) nice?"

"Very," Trowa agreed, "and his… ah… boss and boyfriend."

"You met Zechs Merquise?"

"Yeah. And his dog. Looked like a part of Merquise's hair. I wondered if they both used the same hair products."

Quatre joined him in a laugh. "They might! He must spend hours every day brushing that hair- and the dog's too!"

"Yeah." Trowa picked up the blue satin carton.

"Go ahead and open it," Quatre urged.

Inside were ivory handled combs and brushes, gold shears and matching nail clippers. Tucked into pockets of pale, blue satin was a selection of collars and leads.

Quatre heard Trowa swallow first then say, "It's, um, fancy."

Quatre looked down at the box as Trowa passed it to him, and for the first time tried seeing everything through Trowa's eyes, the box, his hand-tailored clothes, the expensive room just for one pampered pet. It must all look terribly excessive to a mere circus acrobat.

"I'm sorry for my poor manners earlier, my assumptions about you—"

"Please, it's all… water under the bridge now," Trowa said.

"I don't think so, but thank you. You're very kind. I felt bad right after you left this morning. I tried calling to talk more and to invite you to dinner tonight."

Trowa looked up sharply. "Dinner?"

"There's a banquet hosted by Mr. Khushrenada. I'd be grateful if you'd come—and pleased to have you there to talk to." He swallowed and had to restrain himself from rolling and unrolling of his vest hem, a silly nervous habit.

"Okay." Trowa gave him a shy smile. "Duo mentioned that he and Zechs would be going."

"Oh! Well… that's nice… good… I-I'll see you there then?" Quatre faltered. He didn't want this time to end, but didn't what he could say to extend Trowa's stay.

"You will," Trowa said. "I should go change now."

Quatre didn't need to, but felt he should say something. "Me, too."

He chastised himself all the way back to his room. Now he'd have to change some article of clothing or be a babbling fool. Choosing a blue shirt and changing out his tan vest for a grey one would probably, do, he decided. He checked his reflection in the mirror. Does he find me attractive, he wondered? Well, sexy, yes. He felt that. Irresistibly so? Unlikely. Not like he felt about Trowa, despite the vibes he'd felt. And why? He had just met him. He didn't really know him at all. He wasn't going to see him again, probably, considering where Quatre lived. No circuses entertained there.

Ever.

So.

It was hopeless, this infatuation.

Maybe so, but that didn't stop the fluttering in his chest or the tingly anticipation he felt when he simply thought about the man. Trowa. With his tawny port hair and eyes like crystal glasses of Green Crème de Menthe over Gin… What's with the alcoholic allusions? Was Trowa that intoxicating? Quatre giggled at his own silly musings.

There was a gentle rap at his door.

"Yes?" he called.

It was Rashid. "Are you still planning on attending Mr. Khushrenada's dinner tonight, sir?"

"Yes, I am. Oh, I'm sorry; I didn't get back to you. I did find Trowa and he's meeting me there."

"Very good."

"Have a good evening, Rashid. I'll be fine alone. Don't worry. Enjoy the night off."

"I understand. Thank you, sir. I'll call on you in the morning."

It wasn't until Rashid left that Quatre remembered that when he had been hunting for Trowa, his secretary had been with him when he arrived at Alfie's door. He had certainly made himself scarce after that. That's nice, he told himself; it means he must like and trust Trowa. And on that jolly note, he set out for a dinner party, looking forward to it more than ever.

He arrived late, but happily discovered Duo had "saved" a seat next to him. To his delight, Trowa was seated directly across from him and next to Zechs.

Zechs raised his half-empty wine glass. "Nice of you to join us," he said, his head titled to the side and narrowed gaze giving Duo a smoky-eyed look.

"I'm sorry. Really! I lost track of the time," Quatre said, adding contritely to the host, "I apologize. It was kind of you to invite me."

"And I thought I was the fashionably late one," Treize said with a chuckle. "Consider yourself forgiven. Now, please, don't worry any more about it. You've only missed the appetizers, but I can send for more if you like?"

"No, thank you," Quatre said, embarrassed now for all the attention.

But it appeared no one cared, everyone was carrying on pleasant conversations, even Trowa seemed interested in what the young woman to his right was saying. He felt a little out of place and then there was a nudge to his arm.

"You know any of these people?" Duo whispered.

"Not really," Quatre started to list the four he did, starting with Trowa, including Duo and Mr. Merquise, and ending with their host. "I keep missing the introductions."

"I've seem most of them before, living so long here in Sanc. Lemme see," Duo said scanning the faces. "There's Relena Darlian on Treize's left- that's Zechs' sister- whose dachshund didn't win so she's out for now."

Before Quatre could comment on how pretty she was, Duo had moved on. "On his right, the one with the unfortunate eyebrows is Khushrenada's cousin, Dorothy Catalonia. Oh, man, I love this. Would you look at that!"

The fish terrine was served, and as Quatre watched Duo enthusiastically dive in with his fork, he knew he'd have to wait for further introductions. He gave his own a pass. He wasn't fond of fish in any form. He poked at the pickled beets and carrots embellishing the plate, biding his time until Duo sat back and took a breath.

When the fish plates were whisked away, new dishes were served. Lamb with green beans and roasted potatoes—and it smelled fabulous! If he'd eat that nasty fish dish, Quatre reckoned that Duo wouldn't be able to resist plunging into the scrumptious lamb stew the moment he was served. He'd never learn anything new! So, he decided he had to get his questions in now before Duo's fork went to work.

"I understand you met my new handler today," Quatre said courteously to Duo.

"Trowa?" Duo looked across the table and smiled at the circus man. "That's Lucrezia Noin next to him, who he's talking to, whose dog is a sister dog to Zechs' dog. Either the people or the dogs are related here, heh, heh. Anyway, Trowa. Yeah. Met him today." Duo stuffed a slice of meat in his mouth and chewed.

"What do you think of him?" Quatre asked.

"I wish he lived around here. We could be friends," Duo said. "Smart and spooky-good with dogs." When Duo turned and looked him straight in the eyes. "What do you think of him?"

"I-I wish we could be friends, too," Quatre wavered. He really did mean what he'd said, and found it hard to leave in at that. What he really wanted was for Trowa to be his special friend.

Duo's voice broke him out of his revere. "So, why don'tcha?" Duo asked, maybe a tad too pointedly.

"I'm not very good at being a friend," Quatre told him with a rueful half-smile. "Case in point, so far I've spent all my time here on conference calls… the family business. It's demanded all my free time. I haven't seen any of Sanc yet and it's my first visit here."

He looked down at his fork, and wryly acknowledged what he had done. Having felt his anger building, had he actually imagined acting out at a dinner party, using his fork to stab someone? One of his brother-in-laws, maybe? Under the right circumstances he knew just the one.

"That's too bad," Duo agreed. "Everyone needs downtime. I don't know what your job's all about, but it sounds stressful."

"It is, and that's why," Quatre lowered his voice to a whisper. "I sense I can trust you to keep this to yourself, Duo."

"If you want, my lips are sealed." Duo popped a hunk of lamb in his mouth to prove it.

Quatre chuckled in spite of most probably having lost Duo to his dinner. "Very well, I'm working on an exit plan. First, I have to save enough money to live on while I look for a way to earn a living, which I've almost done."

Duo nodded, gave him a "carry on" gesture, but kept on eating.

"In fact, I could probably make do right now. Then it's getting up the nerve. Telling my father I want to break out on my own isn't something I look forward to."

Duo shook his head. "My sympathies."

"It helps that I have experience and training."

"Oh, then you've got an idea what you want to do, then? That's the hard part, I think." Duo stopped talking and tasted his green beans.

"I have lots of ideas," Quatre told him.

"Well, that's one hurdle fewer." Duo tried scooping up the last of the meat juices with his fork. "You know, what we need is someone to invent utensils we can eat. I could swab up all the gravy with my napkin, a real good mopping tool, and then eat it, napkin and all. Eh, too late!" Duo watched his nearly licked-clean plate get removed looking a bit sad. "Great food. Can't wait for dessert." He turned away from Quatre, facing forward, and winked at Zechs when the elegant man's steely gaze settled on him.

Quatre blushed thinking that Duo's dessert ideas probably took place in private. Zechs had been speaking to Trowa, next to him, but other than that, Quatre noticed how his riveting grey eyes had rarely left Duo the entire meal. Quatre sighed with a sinking heart. He wished for someone as devoted to him as that.

As if he had said that aloud, with perfect timing Trowa looked up and smiled his way. Oh dear! Quatre felt heat flood his cheeks and he fumbled his fork, dropping it. Good thing he had finished his meal! Quatre realized his eyes kept returning to Trowa, too, hoping for another one of those smiles. Well, why shouldn't he be interested in getting to know Trowa? He was interesting and new. He seemed calm and quiet and so mellow. Rashid trusted him. Duo wanted him for a friend. And Alfie was a good judge of character. He liked Trowa and he couldn't be wrong about him, could he? No, Trowa was a kind man—and very attractive.

When he let himself sink into the emotion-soup around him, there was too much passion and "high passions" for him to contain, so he blocked out everything as best he could. There were so many new faces and names he'd already forgotten; names he normally would have remembered and catalogued clearly for later retrieval had it not been for Trowa. He was proving to be a very, very distracting man. Quatre kept sneaking glances across the table to see if Trowa was looking his way. Sometimes he was. Once he smiled. Oh, my!

It was difficult to sit there any longer. He started to fidget after the plates were cleared and knew he wouldn't be able to carry on any meaningful small talk. Quatre needed to burn some calories and clear his head. He decided to do something he'd been taught NEVER to do at a dinner table: he messaged Trowa.

"Would you walk with me?"

As soon as he pressed "send" he was sure he was being too forward. Maybe this wasn't done in Sanc? Making secret, un-chaperoned appointments were frowned upon where he came from. But of course this could be excused. Trowa worked for him. He had business to discuss. This wasn't a lovers' rendezvous. He watched as Trowa, who first looked confused as to what he should do, and then, making the decision to check his cell, looked down into his lap and covertly read the message. Quatre waited, realizing he was nervous. What would he do? Would Trowa snub him?

No, Trowa wouldn't.

His chest blazed with sudden heat as he watched Trowa stand and place his napkin on the table, a smile spreading across Trowa's face.

"If you'll excuse me," Trowa directed at Mr. Khushrenada, "This has been great, but I need to check the equipment I'm to use tomorrow. It's going to be a challenging day, as you can guess."

"I assume that means I won't be seeing you… later?" Khushrenada asked, slyly.

"Tomorrow is more appropriate for celebrations," Trowa answered, his meaning ambiguous.

Quatre knew this was his opportunity to leave. A few others were collecting belongings and looking to leave as well. He jumped to his feet.

"I must go, too. There are several details I'd like to go over with you, if you don't mind?" Quatre suggested helpfully, eyes wide and steady.

"Good idea," Trowa said.

Quatre analyzed that reaction. Trowa's voice had sounded firm, but Quatre thought he looked puzzled. He tried to view everything he'd done from Trowa's perspective, but was he in fact acting strangely? Or worse, were his feeling obvious and putting Trowa off? Dear, me! He was just too new at this!

As they left the room, Quatre quickened his step to catch up. "Sounds like everyone's leaving."

"We started a movement," Trowa said flatly.

"We did." Quatre swallowed the giggles trying to bubble out of him. "Tomorrow's going to be busy for everyone." Quatre paused at the door. "I do need to get away from all these…people… and there's a garden with walkways close by, if you'd like to join me?"

"I would."

Trowa didn't act as if this was anything improper at all, and so Quatre felt much better.

"That's wonderful!" he said. The doorman pushed open the door and Quatre led the way, skipping down the steps two at a time. "It's not raining! Oh! It smells wonderful. Perfume?"

"Something's blooming."

"Really? What do you think it is?"

"My bet would be on cherry blossoms." Trowa withdrew the dog show brochure from his inner jacket pocket. "They're on the cover. Says: 'it's an event to see in Sanc this time of year.'"

"Hmm," Quatre breathed deeply. "Too bad it's too dark to see them." He felt a warm hand on his jacket sleeve. The intimate gesture sent ripples of excitement through him. "Oh!"

"Are you warm enough?" Trowa asked him.

A thousand images and lusty ideas flooded his mind—mostly of his own devising. "Maybe if we get moving, I'll warm up," he said hastily and took the curving path into the garden.

Fairy lights glittered from the branches, and dim lights dotted the walkway offering ample illumination to see by. When the chilly air moved, blossoms shimmered and drifted in and out of the light. Water droplets twinkled like stars.

"Oh, my! Isn't this beautiful? Like a fairyland!" Quatre was nearly breathless, twirling in circles. "I see blossoms but the color is bleached out."

"You'll have to come back in the daylight," Trowa said.

"I shall plan to," Quatre said, vowing to find a way.

They followed the path in silence for several minutes. The air was unpleasantly cold and misty, so they kept moving to keep warm.

"So, what was it you wanted to talk about?" Trowa asked in his direct fashion. "I hope it includes what the hell it is I'm to do before the actual show." Trowa told him he knew the time for both the best in class and best in show events and the where he was to show up with Alfie. "But what lead to I use? And who is going to make sure I'm not wearing my pants backwards?"

Quatre laughed with nervous excitement and then spelled out the final details, how he would give Alfie his final grooming and see Trowa off. "Are you ready?"

Trowa answered, "I'm as ready as I can be."

"I never asked you whether or not you needed clothes, since I'm sure you didn't come to the show prepared for… all this."

"I don't have anything nicer than what I wore tonight," Trowa said, "but Duo told me I should be okay. Just look unobtrusive."

Quatre chuckled. "He would say that, considering what flashy outfits he wears. That gives you plenty of latitude. I'd offer you the choice of any of my clothes but-"

"—they wouldn't fit, but thanks for the offer anyway." Trowa smiled. "I'd look pretty silly in too-short pants and tight vests."

"Unless you brought one of those acrobat costumes…" Quatre's voice trailed off. "Sorry! I'd seen a picture of you."

"Did you like it?" Trowa asked. Stopping to get a close look at Quatre's face.

Oh, yes, he did. Would he admit it? Was he that brave? The costume clung to Trowa's body like he'd been dipped in it, showing off all his attributes. Very clearly. Quatre flushed hotly.

And then Trowa did him a kindness. He backed off. He pulled away just before things became seriously uncomfortable. Quatre liked how he didn't push it. Like he had a sixth sense. Maybe that was his secret with all animals?

"One thing I don't have," Trowa said, "is my entry number. Alfie's number for the show."

"I have it here! I was meaning to give it to you earlier and found it when I was changing vests. Here."

Quatre handed him a fat envelope with his pass on a lanyard to be worn on the show floor. Trowa slid it out.

"Number three?" Trowa asked.

"Yes, and Duo is number two. I saw it when I picked mine up. That means you'll line up together."

"Ah. Well, that will be comforting, I guess. Friendly face. I hope I don't have to follow him, though."

"You'll be wonderful, Trowa. Alfie is so good with you and he's been through shows many times before."

"Comforting thought."

The two young men ambled back to the hotel, pausing at the elevator before going to their separate destinations.

"Be careful."

Trowa raised an eyebrow in question. "Careful?"

"Just wishing you good luck. It sounded better than 'break a leg', under the circumstances." After losing two handlers already, he didn't wish an accident to take out Trowa.

Trowa chuckled softly, which had been his aim.

"Thanks. I'll see you later, then," Trowa said.

That sounded so nice to Quatre, he marshaled his courage and asked, "Maybe after the shows are over tomorrow we could go have some fun out, see some of Sanc?"

"Yeah, sounds good. I should get back to the circus eventually, but I haven't a fixed time table." Trowa reached out and lightly stroked his hand, saying, "Tomorrow, then."

Quatre stood there smiling, his hand tingling where it had been touched. The elevator door opened.

"My floor," Trowa announced and then he was gone.

Quatre felt blissfully exultant and excited, walking on air on his way to his room. "That went well." Yes, his meeting with Trowa had gone smoothly, and possibly even better than that, if he permitted himself a degree of optimism. For a few minutes Quatre indulged himself in the expectation that Trowa might want to spend a little more time getting to know him. He could be more than Alfie's owner!

As he readied himself for bed, pulling on his ivory silk pajamas, he realized that he no longer cared about the results of the dog show beyond seeing Trowa again. Trowa, his… handler.

TBC…

Chapter 4

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