FicWad

Notes: Written for Merith's Showering!Quatre challenge on livejournal - http://www.livejournal.com/users/merith/182885.html . Beta'd by my lovely three musketeers, pond, blue soaring and windsor blue. smooches I monkied with this after they beta'd, so if there's something messed up, it's totally my fault.
Disclaimer: Don't own.
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Quatre limped down the hallway to his suite, smiling ruefully. He'd certainly had better days. He ached in a dozen different places, and he was fairly certain by the stiffness of his clothing that he'd bled in a few of those achy spots. He wanted a hot shower, a nice meal, his bed, and for the entire wretched day to be done and over with.

Reaching his door at last, he dug into his pocket for his keycard and came up short. It was gone. He could have sworn he'd put it in the inside pocket of his suit jacket when he'd left this morning. Muttering to himself and patting down the rest of his pockets, Quatre swore under his breath. Nothing. Sliding his wallet out of his back pocket and huffing in annoyance, bangs blowing away from his eyes, he rifled through the compartments. Credit cards, local currency, Duo's new phone number... but no keycard. He was locked out of his room. Quatre closed his eyes and leaned against the wall in defeat.

~~~~~~~~~~~

A dull thud startled Trowa out of his doze and jerked him upright on the couch, eyes wide and body tensed. At the second thud he relaxed, recognizing the source as someone at the door to the suite. Swinging his legs off the couch, he rose and padded across the room on bare feet, pulling the door open just as a third thud vibrated through the wood.

Quatre's weight against the door pulled it from Trowa's hand, and Quatre fell into Trowa with a startled yelp. The two tumbled to the floor in a tangle of arms, legs, and surprised curses.

Sprawled on his back and staring bemusedly at the ceiling, Quatre's weight draped heavily over him, Trowa shifted his hips a bit. Quatre didn't move.

"Hey," Trowa said quietly. There was no answer, save for a blond head burrowing its way between his neck and shoulder. Concerned, he curled an arm around Quatre's waist and gave a light squeeze. "Hey. Are you okay?"

"I refuse to move until the rest of this god-forsaken day is over with." Quatre muffled the response against Trowa's neck, trying not to sound as tired and grumpy as he felt.

Amused, Trowa shifted his gaze from the ceiling to the blond hair just visible out of the corner of his eye. "That kind of day, was it? I wasn't expecting you back for a while yet." He brought his other hand to Quatre's hip, rubbing soothingly up and down his side.

With a hiss, Quatre jerked away from the touch, his elbow catching Trowa in the ribs as he rolled onto the floor. Sitting up and gritting his teeth at the throb in his side, he looked apologetically at Trowa, now curled around his own bruised ribs. Apparently, his bad luck had followed him home.

"What was that all about?" Trowa asked, his voice pained. Uncurling carefully and sitting up as well, he wiped away the tears that had sprung to his eyes. Rubbing at his abused ribs, he looked in concern where Quatre was gingerly holding his own side.

"I'm sorry -" Quatre broke off as Trowa rose slowly to his feet, shaking his head. "I think I'm cursed today," he continued once Trowa was upright. "Everything I've touched or gone near has gone to hell in a handbasket."

"This would be why you were trying to break the door open with your head?" Trowa asked dryly, offering Quatre his hand.

Quatre let Trowa tug him to his feet, his wince as he stood obvious only because Trowa had been watching for it. "No, that would be because I appear to have lost my keycard. Knocking myself unconscious seemed like a good way to end my day." He moved over to the dining table, emptying his pockets onto it before carefully shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it over a chair.

Watching Quatre through narrowed eyes, Trowa stepped forward, stopping abruptly as Quatre swung around. The back of his dress shirt was streaked with what looked like dried blood down the right side.

"Your shirt is a mess. What happened?" Gentle fingers bumped Quatre's hands out of the way, pulling his shirttail from his slacks and loosening his tie before tackling the buttons down the front.

Quatre grimaced. "I'm not surprised, I think my hip and leg are scraped up as well." He unbuttoned one cuff, making a face as his fingers brushed a few more abrasions he hadn't noticed. "And my arm. At least I didn't break my watch." Removing the gundanium timepiece, he placed it with the things he had removed from his pockets.

"And you were offended when I bought you an indestructible watch," Trowa snorted. Finishing with the buttons, he waited until Quatre opened the second cuff, pushing the shirt carefully off of Quatre's muscled shoulders and catching it as the fabric slipped down and off his arms.

He let out a low whistle, fingers ghosting over the large bruise blossoming along Quatre's side from the top of his ribs to his waist. Trowa's hand hesitated, and he looked questioningly at Quatre.

"The stairs," Quatre sighed, moving away from the soft touch and walking stiffly towards the bedroom, his fingers fumbling with the buckle on his belt.

"The stairs?" Trowa followed, eyes sharp, watching Quatre closely for signs of more serious injuries.

"We went to Montmatre for lunch," he answered, pushing open the bedroom door and tugging on his slacks. "Heero showed up with Relena, and she wanted to take him to Place du Tertre for a sketch."

"Ah," Trowa nodded, once more nudging Quatre's hands away. Peeling the fabric carefully over Quatre's hips and giving him a gentle push towards the bed, he waited until Quatre sat before crouching and sliding the pants lower. "They've been petitioning the city to repair those steps for years; they're an accident waiting to happen."

"They got tired of waiting, apparently." Quatre toed off his shoes, pushing them to the side with his feet as Trowa pulled off his slacks, then his socks. "We're lucky we didn't break our necks." He leaned forward to peer at his leg, tie hanging down to tickle the fine blond hair on his thigh. "I thought so." His voice was resigned. "It felt like my pants were sticking to me." His leg was scraped raw and smeared with dried blood.

"You did a job of it, all right." Trowa pulled up the leg of Quatre's boxers, eyes tracking the abrasions upwards. "It looks like you got your entire right side. You must have fallen quite a ways."

Leaning carefully backwards to lie on the bed, mindful of his back, Quatre grunted. "About half way down, the stone just crumbled right out from under our feet." He lifted his uninjured leg up, planting his foot on the bed and raising his hips enough to slide his boxers off, kicking them away and dropping his foot back to the floor, then throwing his unmarked arm over his eyes.

Standing, Trowa reached over his shoulder to grasp his shirt, pulling it off and dropping it to the floor with Quatre's clothing. "Heero and Relena are alright?" He tossed his head, his hair settling back into place.

"They're fine. They were far enough over that they could grab the railing. Graham was with us, he wasn't as lucky. He'll be spending the summer with his arm in a cast." Quatre grinned for the first time since arriving home. "He's not very happy, to say the least."

Trowa's grin was a toothy reflection of Quatre's own. "I'd imagine he isn't; the good Senator's temper is hair-trigger on the best of days. The city has no idea what it's in for now." Leaning over Quatre, he wrapped his fingers around the tie curled on Quatre's bare chest and tugged. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up before you really stiffen up."

Allowing Trowa to pull him upright, Quatre carefully rose from the bed, following Trowa into the bath before a thought stopped him. "Why are you home? I thought you were going back to the Louvre today."

Trowa felt around for the first aid kit on the top shelf of the linen closet, already low-slung jeans slipping further down his narrow hips. He shook his head as his fingers found the kit. "Duo called shortly after you left. By the time I got off the phone, I really didn't feel like going out. We're going to be here for a while, I figured one day of lazing around wouldn't hurt."

"You fell asleep on the couch is what you're saying." Coaxing Trowa aside with a hand to the small of his back, Quatre pulled out some towels and washcloths.

Trowa's brow arched. "I was resting my eyes."

Quatre shot him a look of amused disbelief.

"I fell asleep on the couch," Trowa grinned sheepishly, turning towards the vanity. Quatre strode across the room to the shower and Trowa paused, appreciating the grace he managed to retain. The tie sans clothing was rather nice, too, the narrow piece of grey silk dangling forward as Quatre reached for the water controls. He laughed and carried the kit to the counter.

"Laughing at the injured isn't nice, you know." Quatre appeared at his elbow and opened the kit, digging through it for antiseptic and swabs.

Watching Quatre in the mirror, Trowa shook his head, smiling. "I wasn't laughing at you." At Quatre's questioning look, he continued. "I just found it amusing that despite the fact that you're a walking road rash, I still can't help but admire what I see."

Quatre's gaze went to his own reflection, eyes tracing over his damaged skin, his lips twitching. Raising his eyes, he met Trowa's in the mirror. "Road rash turns you on, does it?" he asked in amusement.

Trowa's lips quirked in return. "I can't say that it does, but I have to admit the tie-only ensemble is working for me." Stepping behind Quatre and slipping an arm around his chest, he ran his palm down the length of the tie, leaving his hand flat against Quatre's abdomen.

Quatre's hand covered Trowa's, and they remained there for a long moment, eyes smiling at each other in the mirror. Finally breaking the gaze, Trowa dipped his head to press soft lips to Quatre's neck. "Come on, gimpy, into the shower," he said, words muffled but still amused. He reached up and tugged the tie loose from its knot, letting the piece of cloth slither from Quatre's neck to the floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Quatre hissed as the water hit him, teeth clenched around a curse. "I hate this part," he ground out, eyes squeezed shut against the pain.

Trowa shed his pants and stepped into the shower behind him. "I didn't think we'd have to do 'this part' ever again," he replied quietly, eyes on the rust-stained water swirling around the shower drain.

Taking a deep breath, Quatre turned to face Trowa, letting the water hit his damaged back and leg. A small noise escaping his throat, he leaned forward to rest his forehead on Trowa's shoulder. "I never expected to be attacked and chewed up by an ancient staircase." His voice was strained. "At least there's no shrapnel to dig out, just clothing lint."

Smiling, Trowa curled his hand around the back of Quatre's neck, massaging it as they waited for the sting of the water to fade and the heat to work its way into sore muscles. He rubbed his cheek against the softness of Quatre's still-dry hair. "Thank god for small favors."

Quatre relaxed slowly against Trowa, finally giving himself a small shake once the room was filled with steam.

"Ready?" Trowa reached for a washcloth.

Quatre nodded, stepping fully under the water to wet his hair before moving out of the stream entirely, one hand pushing his dripping bangs from his eyes. "As I'll ever be." Facing the wall, he curled his fists around the towel bar and ducked his head, wet tendrils of hair sticking to his cheeks and sending rivulets of water down his neck.

He didn't flinch as Trowa ran the cloth over his body, only sucking in a breath when Trowa knelt behind him and prodded a particularly tender area of his thigh.

"You took a good sized chunk of meat out here." Trowa searched the wound with careful fingers, brushing out the small pieces of fuzz and dirt that had worked its way through Quatre's clothing. "That bruise on your side is all the way down to here, as well," he traced a finger lightly over part of Quatre's right buttock. "I think you're going to have problems sitting tomorrow. Turn around."

"Wonderful." Quatre turned, reaching behind him to grasp the towel bar again. Trowa, still on his knees, his own hair slicked back and sending tiny streams of water down his neck and chest, rinsed out the cloth and applied more soap.

"I'm impressed you managed to get the front, back and side of your leg", Trowa said, shifting closer and pressing the fabric to Quatre's upper thigh.

Grunting, Quatre watched him through shuttered eyes. "I am apparently still young enough to bounce. My back and hip got the worst of it, I think. These are fairly shallow."

Nodding, Trowa moved to Quatre's shin, cleaning that carefully before rising. "Your arm?"

Quatre extended his arm. "These don't look like they bled, it's mostly light brush burn. My wrist aches more than anything, I must have tried to catch myself. So much for all my training and the 'proper way to fall'," he said wryly.

Trowa tossed the washcloth into a corner and nudged Quatre back under the spray, reaching around him to turn up the temperature until steam billowed through the small enclosure again. He pressed himself against Quatre's smoothly muscled back, arms sliding around his waist and pulling him snugly, yet carefully, against him. They leaned against the side of the shower, eyes closed, letting the heat wash over and relax the both of them.

He smiled when Quatre's head turned and warm lips pressed to his jaw, his eyes opening in surprise when the kiss was followed by a hot tongue tracing the path of a rivulet of water down his neck.

"Quatre..?" Trowa's arms tightened reflexively for a moment before he quickly relaxed them, worried about hurting Quatre further.

The lips against Trowa's neck smiled. "It's fine. The hospital gave me a prescription when we took Graham in. They seem to have kicked in at last." He nuzzled Trowa's neck, curling his fingers around one of Trowa's hands and tugging it from his waist. Bringing it to his mouth, he placed a gentle kiss in the palm, tongue darting out to delicately lick the water from Trowa's ring finger, careful to get all the droplets before moving on to the next digit.

Trowa sucked in a lungful of air, heat kindling low in his belly. He pushed them away from the wall, maneuvering so that the spray wasn't kicking up into their faces. His hand at Quatre's waist slipped lower, thumb rubbing over the line of dark blond hair trailing from Quatre's navel to his groin. Wet heat enveloped one finger and he froze for a moment, then moved to the side just enough to watch Quatre's mouth and its ministrations. Hooded blue eyes watched Trowa from their corners, lips a tight, hot smile around his finger.

Every flick of Quatre's tongue went straight to his rapidly hardening cock.

Groaning, Trowa pressed his mouth to Quatre's neck, teeth nipping at the tender skin below his ear, his hand stroking down to Quatre's own thickening cock. Circling it with loose fingers, he nudged them both forward and to the side with his hips, directing them around until the stinging spray was beating against the hard flesh cupped in his hand.

Quatre flinched and gasped, his grasp on Trowa's wrist spasming as his head fell back against a strong shoulder, Trowa's slender finger slipping wetly from his mouth. Eyes closed and mouth still open, he panted, little needles of pleasure-pain spiking out from his cock to bury themselves in his gut, each gentle caress of Trowa's hand an added electric shock to the already tight burn.

"Okay?" Trowa's quiet, rough-voiced question barely registered, only the hesitation in Trowa's strokes bringing Quatre back to himself enough to answer.

Quatre released his wrist, reaching behind him for a fistful of Trowa's hair, twisting around and pulling Trowa's head down. His lips met Trowa's in a searing kiss, eyes closing as the move brought a torrent of water over them.

Trowa gasped, pulling away long enough to shift them so that the water was once again out of their faces, curling his hand over the head of Quatre's erection. His mouth crashed down onto Quatre's at the same moment he stroked down on Quatre's cock, drawing foreskin back and exposing sensitive flesh to the beating water. He swallowed Quatre's shocked cry, free hand sluicing through the water raining down Quatre's chest, fingers stroking over a peaked nipple.

Quatre's spine curved, pressing his ass hard against Trowa's groin. Heat coiled low in Trowa's belly, pressure spreading and expanding down the length of his cock. Trowa pressed himself closer, hips thrusting in time to the strokes of his hand around Quatre's length. Strong fingers encircled his wrists, pressed his palm flat; he could feel Quatre's heart thundering beneath his touch.

Breaking the kiss and pulling Quatre tightly against him, Trowa clenched his fist around the heavy cock in his hand. Quatre's head fell back against his shoulder once more, face turning to press against his neck, breath hot and fast against his skin. Quatre suddenly stilled, a fine tremble wracking his frame moments later, and a muffled cry tore from his lips. Trowa threw his own head back as he came, hips continuing a slick slide against Quatre until Quatre's knees buckled and took them both to the floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Trowa roused himself at Quatre's shuddering sigh, pushing himself upright and reaching for the water controls without looking, turning them off. Quatre sprawled next to him, partly on his side, partly on his belly, his skin pale against the dark blue tile. Wet curls of hair concealed his face, and his long legs stretched out the length of the stall. Trowa got to his knees and leaned over Quatre, brushing the clinging tendrils away from his lover's face. He started to speak, but Quatre cut him off.

"I need to fall down stairs more often," Quatre said on another shuddering sigh, opening his eyes and giving Trowa a heavy-lidded, satisfied look. His cheeks were still flushed from sex and the heat of the shower, and Trowa felt a returning twinge in his groin.

Shaking his head at himself and at Quatre's words, Trowa staggered to his feet, reaching down to grasp Quatre by the biceps. "Come on, even on meds you'll be feeling that cold tile shortly." He pulled and Quatre rose, the resulting grunt telling him that Quatre was feeling it already.

He left the stall, keeping a close eye on Quatre following stiffly behind him. Grabbing one of the large bath towels, he passed it to Quatre and took the other for himself, quickly drying off and shrugging into one of the robes hung on the door. Turning, he watched Quatre's movements smoothen out as his stiffness wore off. Taking the towel from him, he carefully dabbed the water from his back, then reached for the second robe, wrapping Quatre in it.

Trowa cradled Quatre in his arms for several minutes before asking quietly, "That was okay? I know that wasn't our usual... thing."

Quatre nodded, chin on Trowa's shoulder. "That was okay. Different, odd at first, but very okay."

"Good." Trowa backed away, smiling at Quatre. Something tangled in his feet, and he glanced down, then back at Quatre, a sly look on his face. "Maybe the next time you've been accident-prone, we can do something with this?" Bending, he picked up the previously discarded tie, holding the piece of silk between two fingers and leering.

Bursting into laughter, Quatre snatched the tie from him. "I don't think we need to wait that long. Besides, I'd rather be in good enough shape to enjoy the game... though I certainly wasn't hindered much just now."

He walked to the counter, picking up the swabs and disinfectant and depositing them in the pocket of his robe. Limping for the door, he flicked the tie out and over Trowa's shoulders, gathering the ends looping around Trowa's neck in one hand and pulling as he walked. Trowa gave a startled yelp and staggered behind, following him out the door.

"Come on, we aren't done here yet. Finish doctoring me up so we can discuss this sudden menswear kink you've developed."

"It's not a kink!" Trowa said, indignant.

The quiet rustle of fabric, followed by a sharp intake of breath, made Quatre laugh. "Right. Not a kink."

"You play dirty."

"That I do, love. That I do."



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Additional note: Montmatre is a section of Paris, France. Way back in the day, it was the place to be if you were an artist. Place du Tertre is where they'd set up shop to sell their wares to the passers-by. Artists still gather there today to hawk their art to the tourists; I have two sketches from my visit there years ago. The area is located on a hill, and while I don't remember the stairs being in bad shape, well... it's the future. Creative license and all that. g