19-Sep-2005
Title: Decoration
Author: Natea
Pairing: Quatre/Trowa 3+4
Rating: 15
Category: Fluff.
Quatre dropped the paint roller into the tray and swiped his arm across his forehead. There was nothing more he could do until Trowa came back with a new can of paint and so he stepped back and dropped into a sheet covered armchair.
It seemed a waste really. They'd bought the bigger value tin, thinking it would be enough to do the entire room, only to find it ran out with a small patch still left to cover.
There was dried paint on his hand and across the back of his wrist and he scratched at it idly. He supposed he could be painting the skirting board while he waited; he didn't have to take a break entirely. He was too comfortable though and let his head drop back against the chair closing his eyes and enjoying the cool summer breeze from the open window as it ruffled his hair.
He dozed a little and missed the sound of Trowa's keys in the lock as he arrived back from the store. The next thing he was really aware of was the feeling of Trowa's fingers smoothing across his cheek. The touch felt different, colder than usual and heavy somehow. He frowned.
"You better not be doing what I think you're doing," he said, unwilling to open his eyes and leave the comfortable sleepy state behind fully.
"Me?" Trowa's reply was full of innocence. "I'm just painting."
Quatre opened one eye. "That's what I thought." He ducked his head as Trowa brought a paint laden finger up to his nose but grimaced at the pull on his hair that indicated the paint had still found a home. "How long have you been back?"
"About an hour," Trowa replied. "I've finished off the wall."
Quatre twisted to look around and smiled. "It looks good." His nose itched and he raised his hand to scratch at it, only to stop halfway there. "You've been busy."
His entire arm was covered in lines and swirls of pale blue paint. Closing his hand to make a fist Quatre could feel the skin pulling underneath the layer.
Trowa only grinned and held out his hand to help Quatre out of the chair. Quatre wasn't expecting the squelch as his fingers tightened around the offered hand and winced.
"I hope you realise this means war," he said, straightening up and glaring as he noticed the full extent of Trowa's artistic sidetrack from his reflection in the mirror propped against one of the walls. Both of his arms and hands were covered in the little swirls of paint, his face and neck not much better off.
Trowa was fully prepared for the lunge when it came, taking a step back to recapture his balance, then another one, and another. With a dawning sense of horror he realized Quatre's plan and twisted to get free.
It didn't work. His back met the freshly painted wall with enough force to drive the breath from his body and he winced as he moved his head forward, feeling the hairs clinging to the paint.
"Bastard," he huffed.
"Umhmm." Quatre was unrepentant, sliding his hand along the wall and then up Trowa's arm, leaving a wide trail behind it. Trowa shivered as Quatre's fingers danced a path across his collar bone and relaxed, going limp against the wall.
The fingers bunched in his shirt and suddenly Trowa was pulled away from and sent, stumbling, across the room. He grabbed hold of Quatre's arm reflexively as he tripped over the mattress, hitting the surface back first and hard. Off balance, Quatre fell with him, forcing the breath from him for the second time that day.
For a while the only noise in the room was the sound of panting.
Then Quatre lifted himself, bracing his weight on hands placed either side of Trowa's head. Pushing his knee between Trowa's legs and pressing down against the hardness beginning to form there, Quatre allowed himself to smirk.
"Time to pay back the piper," he whispered before brushing a painted hand through Trowa's hair and leaning down to kiss him.
The End
(:./natea/decoration)
