For Warmth
by: Thyme

Quatre rubbed his hands up and down his thin arms in a sad attempt to protect it from the chilly air that blew at him from all sides. He was sitting on a stone bench in the backyard of their current safe house; actually, it was a small little cabin tucked away in the woods with hardly enough room for the two that were staying there. With a soft, shy smile, Quatre leaned his elbows on his knees and slumped over, remembering who, exactly, the other pilot staying with him was.

Trowa.

Trowa had undoubtedly become his best friend, and Quatre knew Trowa felt likewise for him. But as time wore on, and the two spent more time together, he was beginning to feel that his emotions were slowly sneaking past the point of friendship. Slowly but surely, Quatre knew he was falling for the tall brunette. It wasn't that he was gay or anything, not really; it was just that the person he liked happened to be another boy.

He wanted to stop it, knowing for sure that Trowa would be at least frightened if not disgusted with his feelings, but that was the tricky part about love: once it started, you just couldn't stop it.

He closed his eyes, leaning into the winter air as the wind danced up and down his arms that were neglectfully without a jacket. He shivered as the playful wind turned angry, gusting against his body with force and sending his blonde locks into a hazy whirlwind around his face. He shivered harder, tugging the warmth of his vest closer to his body as he felt something cold fall against his cheek.

Blue eyes fluttered open and were cast upwards, his lips curling into a wide smile as he held out his hand and caught another piece of the coldness falling from the sky, a laugh bubbling up out of him.

It was snowing.

He felt a blanket being deposited across his shoulders and a second weight joining him on the bench. His cheeks, already red from the cold, flushed darker as he noticed who had sat next to him.

"Hello, Trowa," he managed, concentrating on keeping his eyes on the sky. He knew that if he looked instead into the green depths that he could feel watching him from his side, he'd immediately become lost. And whenever he lost himself in Trowa's eyes, it was always difficult if not downright impossible to pull himself away.

But he looked anyway, and was rewarded with silent laughter dancing in those eyes. It didn't quite reach his mouth in the form of a chuckle or a smile, but Quatre could see it clearly in his eyes.

"Quatre," Trowa said, while nodding in greeting. Placing his hands behind him. the green-eyed boy leaned back, looking up at the sky. The snowflakes collected in his red-brown hair, most of them melting on contact and gathering a small patch of wetness there. He didn't say anything else.

His shivers gone for the moment, his body warmed by the blanket on his shoulders and the butterflies in his stomach, Quatre sighed contentedly and watched as the white flakes floated down peacefully from the sky while sneaking glances at Trowa out of the corner of his eye from time to time. One such glance at the silent boy beside him, and concern slipped across the blonde's face momentarily. Trowa hadn't bothered to bring a jacket either.

Wordlessly, the timid Arabian moved slightly closer to Trowa and adjusted the blanket so that it was across both of their shoulders, winning a rare smile from the usually impassive boy. Quatre smiled also.

"Thanks," was all the brunette said, and it was all Quatre needed. The smile on his face was worth more than any words Trowa could say, and was worth more warmth than the blanket he was sharing.

"You're welcome, Trowa."

Though his smile faded, Trowa's eyes still wore the smile, and it remained there as he casually snaked his arm around Quatre's waist. The pale boy sighed very quietly, leaning his head softly against Trowa's shoulder. They stayed like that until the snow stopped, sitting together for warmth, and perhaps something a little bit more.