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Punishing
folder
Gundam Wing/AC › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
17
Views:
5,275
Reviews:
74
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Gundam Wing/AC › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
17
Views:
5,275
Reviews:
74
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Gundam Wing/AC, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
V
The night before trial Quatre called.
And like the lap dog that Trowa was proving to be, he dropped everything that he was doing or might have planned to do earlier, and rushed to do Quatre\'s bidding (after making himself appear presentable).
He speeded to Zilker Park and then to the red bridge over one of the main streams running through it.
The park, itself, was nothing particularly amazing or awe-inspiring to see. It was a bunch of cropped turf peppered here and there with broccoli-bunch tree coverage. Flowers only grew in the garden-designated portion of the park, otherwise they were stomped down by frisbee players, public event spectators, and cross-country runners. The turf, too, was a touch sad. It was fibrious crab grass that scratched more than it padded and littered liberally with biting bugs, and blanketed at some times of the year with mosquitoes (which were kept in check by the ever-growing bat population under the city\'s major bridges).
The gravel track paths still had a few joggers treading their course around the lake-circuit.
Trowa had run it a few times, lostlost his liking for it after he came to the realization that he liked climate-control.
Most of the track was packed down white gravel, the dust from which rose in impressive clouds on hot days behind some of the real trucking runners; the rest of the track was made up of stairs and bridges. It went up one bridge that Trowa liked, wide with large spiral stairs. On the main part of the bridge was a brick paved street made specifically for pedestrian traffic. Lining either edge of the bridge were plotted trees that flowered in spring and bluebonnets. Also resting on either side of the bridge was a vast view of the lake (and in the evening), a great spot for watching the sunset.
The bridge that Quatre had wanted to meet on, though, was more secluded than the one that Trowa liked. It was red from paint and, in some places, rust. The main body of it was made from thick planks of old wood while the railing and support had been crafted from metal.
A lot of ducks and geese liked to swim the shallow channel underneath (which would explain why Quatre, more or less, ordered Trowa to bring bread or crackers or both with him).
Quatre looked his usual tragic-hero self when Trowa found the bridge. Immediately, Quatre noticed Trowa and watched him approach, a touch aloof but also a bit humble in the microscopic curve of his lips and subdued eyes.
\"Hi...Trowa,\" he said the last part reluctantly, and afterwards pressed his lips together regretfully.
\"Hi Quat-\"
\"Shh, let\'s just feed the birds,\" Quatre whispered, taking the grocery bag from Trowa\'s easy grip.
They fed the birds a while, not bothering to talk to each other.
Finally, around 8:45 Quatre decided to break the silence, \"So, how much research have you and your guys done on me?\"
Trowa regarded him a moment before replying defensively, \"Enough.\"
\"You don\'t remember me, though,\" Quatre asserted a little bitter.
\"I beg your pardon?\" Trowa demanded, indignant.
Quatre gave him a look that was pitiless, and a bit sarcastic, \"You and I have a rather illustrious history together.\" His expression became hurt, \"It\'s a shame that you\'ve forgotten so easily.\" He tied the bread bag and handed it back to Trowa. \"We\'ve met twice before.\"
With that, he took off, his stride only daring Trowa to follow.
The thought had crossed his mind to yell after Quatre that he was driving him really crazy, but that would have been too uncomfortably similar to admitting defeat.
He felt as if he was in battle with Mr. Winner. His complete victory would only be accomplished after he cracked into Quatre\'s shell and assured his status as his undisputed love interest.
\"What are you up to?\" Trowa asked the last traces of Quatre left behind, the sweet smell of oranges and honey.
He inhaled deeply before heading to his car, and then to home.
He\'d forgotten earlier to feed Mr. Bojangles.
TBC
note(s):
1. AH! The shortest chapter EVER!
Don\'t worry, though. It was kind of on purpose ;>> I\'ve gotten some random idea since yesterday in regard to this story that I think will make it somewhat interesting, later. It\'ll explain Quatre\'s odd behavior and bizzare questions^_^
2. I\'m almost ready to post a new chapter to Eye Apples. I just need to make a few more paragraphs.
3. Zilker Park is a REAL park. It\'s in Austin, TX. I haven\'t been there since the last 4th of July, and, yeah, I\'ve run around on the gravel path and over the bridges @_@; NEVER run there in the heat of summer!
4. PLEASE R&R. THANK YOU! AND THANKS TO THOSE WHO HAVE ALREADY REVIEWED! YOU\'RE ALL AWESOME!!!!
And like the lap dog that Trowa was proving to be, he dropped everything that he was doing or might have planned to do earlier, and rushed to do Quatre\'s bidding (after making himself appear presentable).
He speeded to Zilker Park and then to the red bridge over one of the main streams running through it.
The park, itself, was nothing particularly amazing or awe-inspiring to see. It was a bunch of cropped turf peppered here and there with broccoli-bunch tree coverage. Flowers only grew in the garden-designated portion of the park, otherwise they were stomped down by frisbee players, public event spectators, and cross-country runners. The turf, too, was a touch sad. It was fibrious crab grass that scratched more than it padded and littered liberally with biting bugs, and blanketed at some times of the year with mosquitoes (which were kept in check by the ever-growing bat population under the city\'s major bridges).
The gravel track paths still had a few joggers treading their course around the lake-circuit.
Trowa had run it a few times, lostlost his liking for it after he came to the realization that he liked climate-control.
Most of the track was packed down white gravel, the dust from which rose in impressive clouds on hot days behind some of the real trucking runners; the rest of the track was made up of stairs and bridges. It went up one bridge that Trowa liked, wide with large spiral stairs. On the main part of the bridge was a brick paved street made specifically for pedestrian traffic. Lining either edge of the bridge were plotted trees that flowered in spring and bluebonnets. Also resting on either side of the bridge was a vast view of the lake (and in the evening), a great spot for watching the sunset.
The bridge that Quatre had wanted to meet on, though, was more secluded than the one that Trowa liked. It was red from paint and, in some places, rust. The main body of it was made from thick planks of old wood while the railing and support had been crafted from metal.
A lot of ducks and geese liked to swim the shallow channel underneath (which would explain why Quatre, more or less, ordered Trowa to bring bread or crackers or both with him).
Quatre looked his usual tragic-hero self when Trowa found the bridge. Immediately, Quatre noticed Trowa and watched him approach, a touch aloof but also a bit humble in the microscopic curve of his lips and subdued eyes.
\"Hi...Trowa,\" he said the last part reluctantly, and afterwards pressed his lips together regretfully.
\"Hi Quat-\"
\"Shh, let\'s just feed the birds,\" Quatre whispered, taking the grocery bag from Trowa\'s easy grip.
They fed the birds a while, not bothering to talk to each other.
Finally, around 8:45 Quatre decided to break the silence, \"So, how much research have you and your guys done on me?\"
Trowa regarded him a moment before replying defensively, \"Enough.\"
\"You don\'t remember me, though,\" Quatre asserted a little bitter.
\"I beg your pardon?\" Trowa demanded, indignant.
Quatre gave him a look that was pitiless, and a bit sarcastic, \"You and I have a rather illustrious history together.\" His expression became hurt, \"It\'s a shame that you\'ve forgotten so easily.\" He tied the bread bag and handed it back to Trowa. \"We\'ve met twice before.\"
With that, he took off, his stride only daring Trowa to follow.
The thought had crossed his mind to yell after Quatre that he was driving him really crazy, but that would have been too uncomfortably similar to admitting defeat.
He felt as if he was in battle with Mr. Winner. His complete victory would only be accomplished after he cracked into Quatre\'s shell and assured his status as his undisputed love interest.
\"What are you up to?\" Trowa asked the last traces of Quatre left behind, the sweet smell of oranges and honey.
He inhaled deeply before heading to his car, and then to home.
He\'d forgotten earlier to feed Mr. Bojangles.
TBC
note(s):
1. AH! The shortest chapter EVER!
Don\'t worry, though. It was kind of on purpose ;>> I\'ve gotten some random idea since yesterday in regard to this story that I think will make it somewhat interesting, later. It\'ll explain Quatre\'s odd behavior and bizzare questions^_^
2. I\'m almost ready to post a new chapter to Eye Apples. I just need to make a few more paragraphs.
3. Zilker Park is a REAL park. It\'s in Austin, TX. I haven\'t been there since the last 4th of July, and, yeah, I\'ve run around on the gravel path and over the bridges @_@; NEVER run there in the heat of summer!
4. PLEASE R&R. THANK YOU! AND THANKS TO THOSE WHO HAVE ALREADY REVIEWED! YOU\'RE ALL AWESOME!!!!