[FIC] "A Great Lie"
For: cymbal_monkey
Original Request can be found here
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Characters/pairing: Quatre/Trowa
Warning: foul language
"Crap!"
Trowa sat up abruptly at the sound of Quatre's voice. Quatre didn't normally swear, but when he got started it usually meant something was wrong.
"Are you sure you don't need help?" Trowa asked, standing up and walking toward the kitchen in his small apartment.
Quatre appeared in the doorway with his hands up. Quickly he waved them back and forth and then pushed Trowa back toward the couch.
"No, I don't need help. I'm perfectly capable of cooking spaghetti. Anyone can cook spaghetti. Even me. I just dropped a spoon is all."
Trowa shrugged and sat back down, crossing one leg over the other. It was true that spaghetti was easy for almost anyone to cook, but Quatre hadn't cooked a meal for himself since the war ended and he went to work for his family's company. The Winner family had chefs at their disposal twenty-four hours a day. But Trowa didn't think that it would be wise for him to remind Quatre of that when Quatre had been adamant about wanting to cook a meal for just the two of them away from all the chefs and butlers at the family's manor house on L4.
"Damn it!"
Trowa stood back up and walked into the kitchen, needing to see what had caused the second incident of swearing. Quatre was standing over the sink, staring at the colander full of pasta. Spaghetti sauce was bubbling away and Trowa could see that the bubbling of sauce had caused specks of tomato red to dot the white wall behind his stove.
"Let me guess: you overcooked the pasta," Trowa leaned against the door frame and made no move to help Quatre. He could see from the doorway that Quatre's shoulders were tensed and that was not a good sign.
Quatre turned around and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, leaving a small smudge of red on his pale skin. "Yeah. I'm sorry, Trowa. I really tried..."
Trowa reached for the drawer next to him and opened it swiftly, bringing out a large handful of menus as Quatre turned off the burner with the sauce on it. "I can have the same meal here in thirty minutes or less, and I promise not to tell anyone you didn't cook it yourself."
Quatre smiled and walked toward Trowa, wrapping his arms around Trowa's neck. "You're a great liar, you know that?"
Trowa shrugged and smiled. "I try my best."
Original Request can be found here
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Characters/pairing: Quatre/Trowa
Warning: foul language
"Crap!"
Trowa sat up abruptly at the sound of Quatre's voice. Quatre didn't normally swear, but when he got started it usually meant something was wrong.
"Are you sure you don't need help?" Trowa asked, standing up and walking toward the kitchen in his small apartment.
Quatre appeared in the doorway with his hands up. Quickly he waved them back and forth and then pushed Trowa back toward the couch.
"No, I don't need help. I'm perfectly capable of cooking spaghetti. Anyone can cook spaghetti. Even me. I just dropped a spoon is all."
Trowa shrugged and sat back down, crossing one leg over the other. It was true that spaghetti was easy for almost anyone to cook, but Quatre hadn't cooked a meal for himself since the war ended and he went to work for his family's company. The Winner family had chefs at their disposal twenty-four hours a day. But Trowa didn't think that it would be wise for him to remind Quatre of that when Quatre had been adamant about wanting to cook a meal for just the two of them away from all the chefs and butlers at the family's manor house on L4.
"Damn it!"
Trowa stood back up and walked into the kitchen, needing to see what had caused the second incident of swearing. Quatre was standing over the sink, staring at the colander full of pasta. Spaghetti sauce was bubbling away and Trowa could see that the bubbling of sauce had caused specks of tomato red to dot the white wall behind his stove.
"Let me guess: you overcooked the pasta," Trowa leaned against the door frame and made no move to help Quatre. He could see from the doorway that Quatre's shoulders were tensed and that was not a good sign.
Quatre turned around and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, leaving a small smudge of red on his pale skin. "Yeah. I'm sorry, Trowa. I really tried..."
Trowa reached for the drawer next to him and opened it swiftly, bringing out a large handful of menus as Quatre turned off the burner with the sauce on it. "I can have the same meal here in thirty minutes or less, and I promise not to tell anyone you didn't cook it yourself."
Quatre smiled and walked toward Trowa, wrapping his arms around Trowa's neck. "You're a great liar, you know that?"
Trowa shrugged and smiled. "I try my best."