Disclosure: As always I don’t own Gundam Wing or any of its characters! For reference as far as I’m aware there is no such paper as the London Oracle…or if there is I don’t own that either.

Warnings: 3x4, AU, Sap - just a little fic that came to me while I was listening to the sound track from Chicago. I only intended it to be one part…but as always seems to be the case it’s run away with me and is now two.

All That Jazz…

Part One

The message had been short and precise, the London Oracle wished to do a centre price on the newest Jazz sensation to rock the capital, the one and only….Trowa Barton!

A representative from the paper would be around to see him tomorrow at 11:00am, they would be due with the photographer at 2:30pm, punctuality was advised as Pierre had a notoriously short temper and despised tardiness!

Trowa frowned at the answering machine; not so much a request as a demand he thought sourly…a ‘representative’…yeah that was a good one!

However it was not a demand he was easily able to refuse, the London Oracle was one of the most firmly established and highly respected entertainment papers in the country; such an article would do wonders for his career…he couldn’t refute that but…Trowa hated journalists.

‘Representatives’ he reminded himself, each and every one he had spoken to since coming to London had been far more interested in digging around for family scandals and questioning him on his love life than finding out anything to do with his music.

Ha! Love life…Trowa couldn’t help but let out a frustrated sigh as he gave the answering machine one final glare before throwing his bag under the table in the hallway and heading upstairs.

He’d thought his relocation from Oxford to London would open up a whole new spectrum of dating; and he supposed, with a sigh, that there were plenty of guys around willing…if not gagging to date him, it was just they were all either totally self-absorbed or as interesting as watching paint dry…and in many cases both!

‘Are there no normal people in this damn city?’ he grumbled to his fish as he strolled purposefully towards his bedroom.

Exhausted to his core he flopped unceremoniously onto the bed sending cushions flying in all directions and began to pull off his clothes.

The club had been heaving that night, even for a Friday evening; Fattios [1], a popular Jazz club just off the main square of Covent Garden was Trowa’s permanent gig. He had planned to stay there only a couple of months before moving on, but he’d fallen in love with the setting and the people who worked there and before he knew it he had been there for almost a year. He had no plans to move any time soon either!

The club had been full to capacity and Trowa had played for over an hour longer than his usual set leaving him on the verge or hyperventilating by the time he finally pleaded exhaustion and retired to the bar for the remainder of the evening.

The club had been filled, as always, with the regular patrons, but tonight for some reason many other people had decided to drop by. The owner Mr Vockins had been practically buzzing with excitement as he rushed to and from tables with drinks and greetings, declaring on numerous occasions, much to Trowa’s embarrassment, that as word of the young musician’s talent spread…so did the clubs reputation.

One small group in particular had caught Trowa’s eye that night…no…he corrected himself, not one group, just one unbelievingly gorgeous guy.

Trowa had almost dropped his sax when he first laid eyes on him, platinum blonde hair hung lazily over what were perhaps the widest aqua blue eyes Trowa had ever seen. His slim physique was perfectly complimented by the tight black jeans and white polo neck he wore and Trowa swore that he’d squeaked his sax when the young man had bent over to retrieve something from beneath the group’s table, he hadn’t squeaked in a public appearance in years!

Sighing Trowa finished pulling off his clothes and threw them in the vague direction of the laundry basket before climbing under the covers and pulling them up around his shoulders.

If he didn’t stop thinking about that blonde soon he was going to fantasise himself into needing a cold shower Trowa though miserably, and his last thought before he fell into a deep and exhausted sleep was a prayer to whatever god happened to be listening that the angle in human form would become a regular at the club.

Trowa woke up at 10:35. Swearing he leaped out of bed and ran for the bathroom yelling and kicking the bathroom door as he stubbed his toe on the bottom.

Hurling himself under the shower Trowa yelped and jumped back as cold water hit his body…as much as he loved his apartment, it took the water forever to heat in the morning and Trowa resigned himself to the fact he was going to have to endure a cold shower.

Spitting a steady stream of curses Trowa finished his shower in record timing and was hurriedly brushing his teeth a hand towel wrapped round his waist, he seemed to have conveniently left all of the bathing towels in the clean laundry pile downstairs, when the intercom buzzed.

The brunette barely resisted the urge to hurl something at the wall and stalked down the stairs to answer the call.

‘Yes…what is it?’ he unceremoniously demanded, and there was a slightly stunned silence for moment before the caller found his voice, ‘um…Mr Barton?’

Trowa grunted an affirmative, ‘oh great, I thought for a moment I’d got the wrong flat, my name’s Quatre Winner, I’m from the London Oracle…I believe our office left a message for you to let you know I was coming.’

Trowa banged his head against the wall as he glanced at the clock in the hallway 10:48, ‘your early…’ he grumbled. He could hear a soft laughter from the intercom ‘I’m sorry, I guess I was a little eager, this is my first assignment on my own…did you want me to wait here?’

Trowa shook his head, there was something about the young man’s voice that made him loath to leave him standing in the street. ‘No, its alright…I’ll just let you up.’

Trowa pressed the release button for the main entrance and wondered towards his own door to answer the soft knock that sounded a couple of seconds later. As he opened the door he barely resisted the urge to gasp, and his eyes went wide as he found himself face to face with the blonde from the club.

He wore tailored black trousers and a white polo neck, a black blazer slung casually over his left shoulder, Trowa swallowed as the journalist carelessly shoved blonde hair from out of his eyes before turning his piercing aqua eyes on the musician.

It was all he could do not to drool on the reporter’s shoes, stylish didn’t even begin to describe this guy Trowa thought hungrily.

Trowa’s eyes were not the only ones that went wide, the blonde seemed about to spurt some pleasantry but as soon as he caught sight of Trowa in the doorway he seemed to loose any articulate abilities and merely gaped at the sinful vision in front of him.

Trowa recovered quickly from his shock and raised a questioning eyebrow at the young man who stood in his doorway gawking as his cheeks turned an uncomfortable shade of red.

Quatre tore his gaze away from Trowa’s body and focused on his emerald-green eyes instead, clearing his throat he fought against the desire to return his gaze to the musician's body and retried his greeting.

‘Mr Barton, it’s nice to meet you! As I said a moment ago my name is Quatre Winner, I’ll be interviewing you today.’ He flashed a press badge at Trowa and smiled, the kind of soul shattering smile that could rip down even the strongest of emotional barriers in a second and before he knew it the brunette found himself smiling back.

Trowa frowned again as he watched Quatre’s gaze flick back towards his body, but this time he followed the reporter’s eyes with his own.

‘Holy shit…!’

He yelped as he finally remembered his state of undress grabbing the towel just in time to prevent the blonde from getting any more of an eyeful.

Blushing almost as red as Quatre, Trowa pulled the other man through the door and slammed it shut behind him. ‘God, Quatre I’m so sorry…I only just woke up, look make yourself at home for a minute, I’ll be right back!’ he gasped as he guided the rather stunned blonde towards the lounge before bolting back up the stairs to his room.

Ten minutes later Trowa reappeared in the lounge wearing a fitted black t-shirt and immorally tight jeans that seemed almost moulded to his figure, Quatre stood at the other side of the room leaning comfortably against the wall as he gazed out of the window.

‘You have a nice view here,’ he commented without turning round and Trowa made a non-committal noise that broke the blonde from his inspection.

Turning around Quatre’s gaze raked across Trowa’s body before he dragged his eyes away glancing at the floor uncomfortably.

The gesture was not missed by the brunette and Trowa smiled inwardly before deciding to play nice instead of teasing the blonde any further. ‘Well, should we get started then…?’ he asked, Quatre recovered quickly and smiled, ‘hum…yeah sure, did you want to do it here, our offices or somewhere neutral…like a café.’

That was a very loaded question Trowa thought, he’d like nothing better than to pin the blonde against the wall and ‘do’ him right then and there but it didn’t appear that the reporter had noticed the pun, perhaps Quatre just didn’t have such a perverted mind as he did Trowa thought.

‘I really don’t mind,’ he said leaving the decision up to the journalist, Quatre nodded and began to cross the room, ‘…maybe a café then, it’s a really nice day out so we can eat outside, I’ll treat you to breakfast compliments of the London Oracle. You like bagels?’

Trowa nodded enthusiastically ‘who doesn’t’ Quatre grinned at him ‘great! I know where to get the best bagels in London as long as you don’t mind driving.’

Trowa shrugged ‘that sounds fine…let me just grab my jacket and we’ll get going. The message said something about making sure we weren’t late for the photo shoot…?’

Quatre laughed and the sound sent a shudder running through Trowa’s body, ‘yeah…Pierre’s got a thing for punctuality, you don’t want to get him angry…it’s not a pleasant experience!’ he chatted as he left the apartment, Trowa following as they moved down the stairs and out into the sunlight.

Quatre swore as they exited the building and rushed across the road to where a traffic warden was currently hovering over a silver Lotus Elise.

‘H-hey! I was just leaving it there for a minute…look we’re leaving right now, can’t you let it go just this once?’

He flashed his most charming smile at the attendant but the woman merely glared at him. ‘Look pretty boy…park on the double yellow, you get a ticket…no exceptions!’ she barked at him and Quatre scowled as she thrust the ticket into his hand and continued her patrol down the road.

The blonde glared after her ‘bitch…’ he muttered before turning back to Trowa and grinning.

‘Just isn’t my lucky day I guess,’ he chirruped but Trowa could hear a slight strain under the carefree tone. He chose to say nothing about it, hell…he didn’t even know the guy, the last thing he wanted to do was to nose around in Quatre’s business.

‘Nice car…’ he said instead, and Quatre smiled running a hand across the bonnet of the car, ‘isn’t she! I’ve only had her for a month…you wouldn’t believe how much it cost me to insure the damn thing!’

Trowa grimaced ‘I can take a guess, how old are you…if you don’t mind me asking?’ Quatre shook his head ‘I was 22 last week…your 23 right?’ Trowa nodded ‘it’s not much of a introductory conversation if you already know all about me.’

Quatre chuckled good-naturedly ‘not everything Trowa I assure you…but it does pay to do a bit of research before an interview. I’m more interested in the people and places that have inspired your music, where you see yourself in ten years, you know that sort of thing. I’m sure your pretty much sick to death of questions on when you lost you virginity and whether your aunt’s ever run off with a vicar!’

Trowa smiled at him as they pulled off from the pavement and headed out into the direction of the Thames, maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad day after all.

The journey didn’t take long and Trowa was somewhat surprised when Quatre pulled up onto the kerb opposite a small café. Trowa glanced across at the blonde ‘you do know your parked on a double yellow again don’t you?’ he asked curiously as Quatre switched off the engine and opened the door. The reporter grinned at him and shrugged, ‘It doesn’t really matter, the company will pay for the tickets anyway…it's almost impossible to park around here, and I’m hungry!’

Trowa chuckled and slid out of the car, they crossed the road and entered the small café; as soon as they emerged through the door a pretty young woman with golden hair tied back in two plaits smiled and waved at them.

‘Hi there gorgeous!’ she called to Quatre ‘you got company today…that work or pleasure?’ she raised an eyebrow and Quatre blushed.

She gave a yelp as a striking Chinese man slapped her on the rear and glared at her, ‘stop teasing him woman…honestly god only knows why you keep coming back here Quatre when all she does is keep on at you like that!’

Quatre shook his head and laughed good-naturedly, ‘it’s work Sally. Trowa this is Sally and Wufei Chang they own this café…you guys this is Trowa Barton.’ Sally clapped her hands together, ‘oh! The musician right…I’ve heard your quite the talent Trowa, it’s nice to meet you!’ Trowa smiled at the vivacious woman ‘likewise…’ he replied.

Quatre was glancing up at the menu attached to the wall behind the counter ‘I’ll just have the usual thanks Sally,’ he said before turning to Trowa ‘what can I get you?’ he asked. Trowa studied the board for a moment,

‘ what’s the usual?’

‘Smoked salmon and cream cheese on a spinach bagel and black coffee one sugar’ Sally supplied, ‘not that Quatre is predictable or anything’ she added with a laugh.

Trowa smiled ‘that sounds fine…but with a coke not a coffee thanks.’

Sally nodded, ‘you gonna be eating outside Quatre?’ she asked. The blonde nodded ‘fine then I’ll bring it out to you once its done!’ she chirruped before heading into the small kitchen behind the counter.

‘Well then…shall we?’ Quatre motioned to the back door of the café which led to a small patio looking out onto the river. ‘Lead the way’ Trowa said and the blonde nodded moving back into the sun and slipping into a chair at one of the tables on the riverbank.

Conversation was temporarily suspended as Quatre rummaged around in his bag for his Dictaphone, and inexplicably Trowa found himself strangely drawn to the blonde.

Settling his gaze on Quatre’s profile he studied the reporter as he searched through the bag his bottom lip caught between his teeth in concentration. Quatre made a celebratory sound as he finally found what he was looking for and turned his attention back to Trowa his piercing blue gaze pinning the musician to his seat.

‘Well, I guess we should get going then…just try to ignore the recorder. If you want me to back off a certain subject or anything like that just throw something at me!’

Trowa chuckled, somehow he couldn’t imagine Quatre asking any difficult questions but it was reassuring to know the reporter had no intention on pushing subjects he didn’t want to discuss, so settling back against the green plastic chair Trowa nodded for Quatre to begin.

The blonde flipped the switch on the Dictaphone reeling off the date, time, location and interviewee in a practiced fashion before placing the device on the table in front of them, ‘so Trowa, a couple of colleagues and myself were at Fattios to listen to you last night…you have a very distinctive playing style, what was it that first drew you towards specializing in Jazz…’

Sally had delivered their food about ten minuets into the conversation, and Trowa hardly noticed as the morning faded into afternoon he was so engrossed in their conversation.

Quatre turned out to not only be extremely knowledgeable about Jazz, but also a talented musician himself leading to a depth in the conversation that Trowa had not expected.

To be totally truthful, he’d pretty much forgotten that he was being interviewed and was actually quite disappointed when Quatre glanced at his watch and sighed. ‘That’s about all we’ve got time for…its been a pleasure Trowa, thank you!’

Trowa mirrored the compliment and Quatre leaned over to turn off the Dictaphone, ‘we’d better hurry, we really don’t want to be late for Pierre!’ Trowa smiled and followed the blonde as he headed back into the café, ‘you done hun?’ Sally asked. Quatre nodded before paying and bidding the owners goodbye, ‘it was nice to meet you Trowa, hope we‘ll see you again!’ Sally called as they left.

They rode in companionable silence as they drove to the Oracle’s headquarters, the offices were located in the Docklands area of London and were shared by the Oracle and two other papers, one tabloid and a broadsheet.

Quatre pulled into the underground car park and motioned for Trowa to follow him across to the elevators.‘I’ve got a visitors pass waiting for you at reception, we’ll just need to grab that before we head up. Heero…our head of security, takes that sort of thing way too seriously and he’s liable to throw you out if you don’t have one! Ahh…here we are,’ he said as the elevator shuddered to a halt.

They picked up Trowa’s pass and Quatre led them through the twisting maze of corridors until they came to a large pair of double doors. Quatre glanced at his watch 2:25, he grinned at Trowa before pushing the doors open and leading them into the studio.

Equipment lay strewn around the room and Quatre frowned slightly before heading towards the centre of the room to where a short balding man was in a heated discussion with a rather bored looking young man with a long braid hanging down his back, as they drew closer the guy swung around to greet Quatre.

‘Yo Q-man, how’s it hanging?’

Quatre smiled cordially at him, ‘fine thank you Duo…are you guys about done here? Trowa is due for his photo shoot in a few minutes.’ Duo chuckled as he smacked the photographer on the back, earning himself a sting of curses hurled at him in a thick French accent.

‘Yeah I think we’re about done, he’s all your Q!’ Duo grinned before blowing the irate Frenchman a kiss and darting out of the room.

Quatre sighed as the little man stormed across the studio and disappeared through a small door at the back, ‘I’m sorry about that Trowa, Duo seems to love teasing Pierre for some reason…probably because he reacts so well.’ Trowa grunted and glanced nervously at the back of the room where the photographer was remerging from, this didn’t look like it was going to be a particularly easy photo session.

Quatre leaned closer to him and squeezed his hand in encouragement, ‘once he’s calmed down Trowa he’s really not such a bad guy! Look I have to report in to Treize my editor, if you need anything I’ll just be down the hall. Pierre will let me know when you’re done and I’ll come get you!’

He gave Trowa’s hand one final squeeze before turning to Pierre, ‘he’s all yours!’ he said jovially before turning and leaving the studio.

Trowa sighed in relief, some four hours later, as Pierre declared they were finally finished and left to find Quatre.

The blonde had been right…once the Frenchman had calmed down he wasn’t particularly hard to work with, and was extremely talented at his job.

Trowa wasn’t waiting long before Quatre entered the studio and smiled at him ‘see…it wasn’t so bad was it?’ Trowa nodded in ascent and followed the blonde out of the studio and through another door opposite it.

‘I just need to grab my jacket and I’ll give you a ride back home’ Quatre said as he made his way over to what was easily the most untidy desk Trowa had ever seen.

For some reason Trowa had thought the blonde would be tidy, perhaps even to the point of fussiness, but the desk seemed an avid advertisement for the fact that first impressions were not always accurate.

Quatre was making his way back across the room when a young woman with short dark hair called to him from across the room, ‘Quatre! I’ve got Mark on line three for you…do you want me to take a message?’

The blonde seemed to pale slightly before sighing.‘Trowa, would you mind if I took this?’ he asked looking suddenly anxious. Trowa shook his head ‘no, that’s fine’ he said and the blonde gave him a small grateful smiled before threading his way back over to his desk.

Once Quatre was engaged in his conversation the young woman that had taken the call ambled over to stand beside Trowa. ‘Hi there, my name’s Hilde…you’re Trowa Barton right? Its nice to meet you…I was with Quatre and the others last night at Fattios, you're really very good!’ she chatted.

Trowa nodded distractedly as he continued to watch Quatre, the blonde seemed to be getting more agitated as the conversation wore on, and Trowa frowned wondering what was going on.

Hilde giggled from her place beside him, ‘you like him don’t you’ she accused and Trowa choked tearing his gaze away from the blonde.

Hilde bent her head towards him ‘it’s alright don’t worry I wont tell him! The guy he’s talking to on the phone is an ex-boyfriend, I think Quatre broke up with him about two months ago. Mark’s a bit obsessive though…he’s been calling Quatre at least twice a day since he started working here about six weeks ago and Duo says he’s been hanging around near Quatre’s flat recently, you know…like some freaky stalker or something!’

‘Duo’s already told Quatre he should report him to the police…get a restraining order something like that, but I don’t think Quatre wants to kick up any kind of fuss. His dad is the Managing Director of Winner Enterprises and Quatre doesn‘t want to create any bad publicity for him. He’s funny like that, always trying to help people with their problems but never willing to accept help for his. We’re all a bit worried about him though, he’s been really down lately…oh gosh look at me gossiping like this, I’d better get back to work before Treize has my hide! It was nice to meet you Trowa!’

Trowa watched the girl run off before turning his attention back to Quatre, frowning he began to make his way over to the blonde’s desk and as he got closer he could hear Quatre’s side of the conversation.

‘Look Mark this really has to stop…you can’t keep going on like this! I’m sorry things didn’t work out…really I am but we’ve been through this before, I’m not going to change my mind and this certainly isn’t the way to try…’ he was silent for a moment listening to whatever was being said on the other line before the colour began to drain from his face.

‘F-fine then…you know what Mark, go to the damn tabloids, run to daddy and tell him all the gory details…I just don’t care any more!’

His voice was raised enough to catch the attention of the whole office and all other conversations stopped as silence fell over the room.

‘If I see you near my flat again, I will take this further…I’ve had enough of seeing you every time I turn around…goodbye!’

Quatre slammed the phone down and took a shuddering breath before collapsing into his chair and resting his head on the desk. Trowa was about to make his way over to see if the blonde was alright, but a tall red-headed man, who had been talking to one of the other reporters across the room, beat him to it.

‘Alright you bunch of slackers…shows over, get back to work now before I fire the lot of you!’ he bellowed before perching on the side of Quatre’s desk and laying a comforting hand on the blonde’s shoulder.

‘Are you alright Kat?’ he asked, concern evident in his tone.

Quatre nodded miserably, not lifting his head from the desk ‘y-yes I’m fine Treize, thank you…I’m sorry for causing a scene.’ The editor sighed audibly ‘that’s ok Quatre…I think you had a good reason.’

He pulled back gently on Quatre’s hair until the blonde reluctantly raised his head from the desk and looked at him, ‘you look exhausted Kat…go home.’

Quatre began to argue but Treize cut him off, ‘I mean it Quatre, your article doesn’t go out until Friday’s paper so I don’t need it until Wednesday afternoon. Drop off Mr Barton here, go home and get some sleep…if I see you in here before Tuesday, I’ll fire you scrawny ass on the spot…got it?’

Quatre nodded a slight smile tugging at the edge of his mouth ‘yes sir…’ Treize slapped him on the back and stood up, ‘that’s more like it! See you bright and early on Tuesday Kiddo!’

He turned to Trowa, ‘Mr Barton…thanks for you time, I’ll have a cheque out to you in tonight’s post!’ Then he turned on his heels and strode back across the room to continue his previous conversation.

Quatre stood up and glanced at Trowa blushing slightly, ‘Um…I’m really sorry about that Trowa, we can get going now.’

Trowa smiled encouragingly at him as they headed back down the corridor and into the elevator, ‘really Quatre don’t worry about it, but are you sure your ok?’

Quatre blushed and seemed to struggle with something for a moment before replying, ‘actually Trowa…I-I could really use someone to talk to. I know that it’s a bit weird asking you, seeming as though we only met this morning…its just that I thought, if you had some time that maybe you wouldn‘t mind…shit…I’m sorry Trowa I shouldn’t have asked, just forget that I said anything.’

The elevator doors slid shut behind them and Quatre turned to face them quickly, staring resolutely at the dull metal sides and refusing to meet Trowa’s gaze.

The brunette sighed and caught Quatre’s chin with his hand, ‘it’s not a problem at all Quatre really…I want to help. Where did you want to go?’

Quatre’s eyes lit up at Trowa’s words and he smiled gratefully, ‘thank you Trowa! This really means a lot to me…sometimes its hard, you know…to find someone you can trust. Not that I don’t trust the guys at work…its just, I don’t know, sometimes I think if I start talking, I’m not going to be able to stop…and then I’d still have to face them everyday at work…’ he trailed off and Trowa placed a comforting arm around his shoulders and pulled him against his body.

Quatre sighed and laid his head against Trowa’s chest bringing his arms up to rest against the brunette’s stomach, ‘did you want to go back to my apartment? I can cook us dinner…if your going to listed to my spiel, the least I can do is feed you.’

Trowa chuckled, damn it felt good to hold Quatre against him, ‘like I said before Quatre I want to help, you don’t need to do anything for me. Dinner sounds nice though, its probably a better idea than a restaurant.’

The doors opened into the car park and the two young men hesitantly parted, reluctant to break the sense of comfort brought about by being close to one another. As they made their way over to Quatre’s car the blonde shyly slipped his hand into Trowa’s and smiled as the brunette gave it a reassuring squeeze before letting go to getting into the car.

‘Where do you live Quatre?’ Trowa asked as they pulled out of the car park, ‘Um…not far from here actually, I don’t usually drive but as I was picking you up today I brought the car in.’

Trowa nodded and smiled settling back into the plush leather seat and watching the buildings blur past them as they headed towards Quatre’s apartment.

Yes, he though, this could turn out to be a rather good day after all…

Notes:

[1] Fattios is actually a cool little eatery in a village near where I live…but Highworth just didn’t seem to have the same ring to it as London!

They have a Jazz Saxophonist that plays there once every couple of months and he’s absolutely amazing…if you ever happen to be passing through on your travels, god only knows why you would be, it's highly recommended!!!

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