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A Picture is Not Worth a Thousand Words	By : Maureen Category: Gundam Wing/AC > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 690 -:- Recommendations : 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.

Chapter List
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A Picture is Not Worth A Thousand Words pt.2

It
took Quatre almost a week to return the shop to its former state, and as he
worked he alternately cursed Trowa for abandoning him with the mess and for
never calling. //I should have known it was all too good to be true� at least
I got a few kisses out of the whole sorry deal// For as angry as he was at
Trowa, the memory of his sweet kisses always brought a smile to Quatre face.
Even three weeks later, Quatre still found himself staring off into space,
replaying the brief contact in his mind. "Quatre! What are you doing? If
you dust that book anymore it will crumble away to nothing!" Quatre almost
dropped the book in surprise when Rashid's deep voice boomed from directly
behind him. "Are you feeling alright? You've been acting strangely since I
returned. Perhaps you should take the afternoon off and rest."

"No,
I'm fine Rashid. I was just thinking." Quatre hurriedly shelved the volume
he had been cleaning for over twenty minutes and smiled bravely up at his
towering boss.

"Hmmm."
Rashid was clearly not impressed with the explanation, but did not press.
"If you say so. I have to review some shipping manifests, can you watch the
counter while I'm in back?"

"Sure
Rashid, no problem!" Quatre waited until the other man had disappeared into
the backroom before letting the falsely sunny grin drop from his face, and
leaned against the counter with an exhausted sigh. //Stop obsessing, Trowa's
obviously not going to call� just get over it.// This, of course, was easier
said than done, Trowa was the best thing that had happened to Quatre since
moving to this cold and harsh city two years ago. He was just replaying for the
100th time what he could have done, should have done, to make sure Trowa would
return when the object of his fantasy walk through the door.

"Quatre!
I'm so glad you're here � I was afraid you wouldn't be, and I didn't know how
else to find you!"

Quatre
groaned to himself, Trowa was even better looking than he had remembered. Today
he was wearing a skintight green mock turtleneck and jeans so tight that it must
have taken at least four people to pull them up. Quatre forced himself to frown,
"Well, I've been in the same place for the *last three weeks*. Not so hard
to find at all." //If he thinks he can walk in here and I'll just melt in
to a puddle at his feet�// and here, Quatre made the mistake of looking into
Trowa's piercing green eyes //he's right�//

"I
came here as soon as I got back to the States. No, that's a lie, actually I
showered first � I was doing you a favor, really. Tropical islands might make
for great backdrops, but the lack of modern plumbing is murder." Trowa
waited for a response, but after not receiving one went on, "Are you going
to keep pouting? Don't make me do all the talking, you're the word guy,
remember? I am sorry I didn't contact you earlier, but I had to leave for an
emergency shoot the next day � and this is the first place I stopped after
going home and then checking in at the office. Forgive me?"

//Ought
to make him beg a little more, he's even hotter� maybe on his knees?// Quatre
shook his head to clear the wicked thoughts and smiled, "Alright, but now
you owe me two dinners. And a whole cheesecake."

"Actually,"
it was Trowa's turn to smile, and when he did, all but the most rudimentary
knowledge of the English language flew from Quatre's head //hummna hummna hummna�
whoo, stick a fork in me, `cause I'm done// He slowly regained his senses when
Trowa waved a magazine in front his face. "I've got something even better
than cheesecake � you're in print!" He slammed the magazine down on the
counter and rifled through it, "See! Here you are!" The picture in
question was focused on Quatre's face, only the back of Duo's head was visible.

"God,
I look sexy!" Quatre whispered in disbelief � it appeared as if he was
looking right at the viewer, naked lust and longing painting his softly blushing
features.

"You
sure do � and that's not even the best part!" Trowa pulled a folded slip
of paper from his pocket and flourished it under Quatre's nose.

"What's
this?" Quatre took the paper and then dropped it in shock. "All those
zeros� that can't be right!"

"Oh,
it's correct. And hurry up and fill your name in � I didn't know your last
name � it was hell getting them to send a cashier's check out like this."
Trowa pressed the check back into Quatre's nerveless fingers and spoke over his
head, "Hello, you must be Rashid."

Rashid
simply nodded and took in the scene before him, eyes first inspecting the ad,
then the check in Quatre's hand, and finally his clerk's flustered face. "I
thought the store looked a little too clean when I got back." He laid a
heavy hand on his clerk's shoulder, chuckling in his rumbly fashion when Quatre
flinched. "Don't worry, I am not in the habit of punishing people for
mistakes of the past � especially when no harm was done. And now I know why
you've been wandering around here in a daze." He looked pointedly at Trowa.

"Rashid,
this is Trowa Barton, he's a photographer."

Rashid
picked up the magazine, "You took this?" Trowa nodded. "That
certainly is an interesting look you captured on Quatre's face � one I'm
positive I've never seen before." He laughed again at Quatre's obvious
discomfort, "I'll leave you to your visit."

"Wait!
I haven't told Quatre the best part yet! You're the new "it" boy,
Quatre!" Trowa waited for the blonde to show the excitement he obviously
felt this statement warranted, but continued when all he received was a dumb
stare. "Everyone wants to use you! You think that check is something? What
if I told you that you could make 10, no 20 times that amount if you'll just
come to Paris with me for a week?"

"Paris?
Do they have good cheesecake there?" //Where the heck did that come from,
Winner? He's talking about more money than you've ever imagined and all you can
think about is how hard it'd be to pull those jeans off�// Quatre blushed and
added, "You promised me dinner, remember?"

Trowa
looked uncomfortable for a moment, "Yeah, I did, didn't I? But this is a
little more important, right now. Will you do it?"

Once
again, Quatre found it difficult to tell those incredible eyes no, "Well,
if it's alright with Rashid. Is it, can I have some time off?" He looked up
at his boss and then back to Trowa, "When did you say you wanted me to
go?"

"I
didn't say, but this afternoon. Actually, we have about 3 hours to get to the
airport, and we'll just make it, assuming you have a passport already."
Trowa searched Quatre's eyes for a moment, "Please, my career's kind of
riding on this, too."

"His
passport is here � I was thinking of taking him on my next trip to Asia,
having a blonde do the negotiations can be a real asset in Japan. Quatre, leave
the check with me, I'll put it in the safe and give you a cash advance."
Rashid untied Quatre's apron and gave him a little push around the counter.

"You
can't seriously be telling me to go, can you?" Quatre sputtered,
"Who's going to help you around here? Just drop everything and fly off to
Paris� I need to pack�"

"No
you don't � every major designer on both sides of the Atlantic is lining up to
give you clothes, Quatre � I'll just have my assistant make a few calls and
everything you need will be waiting in your suite." Quatre still clung
stubbornly to the counter, "Don't you want to pay off those student loans?
Hey Rashid, if I go out and hail a cab, will you stuff him in it for me?"

"Quatre,
I *will* be angry with you if you let this opportunity pass you by! Yes, go out
and get a cab, young man, Quatre and his passport will be in it in five
minutes." Quatre opened his mouth to protest, but gave up when he saw the
ecstatic look on Trowa's face and the firm one on Rashid's.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*

For
all his protests, Quatre was actually quite excited. Dropping everything and
jetting off halfway around the world with a super- sexy stranger, it was like
the plot of a cheesy romance. //But it's really happening to me!// The fairy
tale aura grew when Quatre realized they were going to be seated in first class
� he had always been stuck with crying babies and snoring strangers in coach
before. The only problem with the whole scenario was that Quatre's prince seemed
to have turned into a pumpkin. Every time Quatre attempted to start a
conversion, Trowa would only speak of the upcoming shoots and the companies they
would be working for. When he tried to flirt, Trowa acted oblivious. And when
the super-perky stewardess served them cheesecake dripping in strawberry sauce
for dessert, Trowa just turned away and promptly fell asleep. //He did say he
just got back today � maybe he's got jetlag�// Quatre tried to be
optimistic, but the more leaden the silence grew between them, the harder it
became to maintain his usually cheerful demeanor. //Maybe he already had a
boyfriend� or he's straight� do I have bad breath�// But the time they
arrived in Paris, Quatre's mood was dark as the night's sky. He stonily refused
Trowa's half-heartedly offered invitation to dinner as they were shown to their
rooms, and almost slammed the door behind himself after Trowa informed him of
the 5 am wake-up call the next morning. Determined not to cry, he took a long
hot bath and beat up his pillow several times, finally drifting off to sleep
around 2.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~

"I
thought Trowa said he was in here! Damn, it's dark. Cathy, get the lights, will
you?" A soft, sweet woman's voice called. "Ah, there he is, jes' a
little tuft of blonde showing out of that lump of blankets on the bed. Quatre,
honey, wake up! Rise and shine!" Quatre groggily felt the bed dip on one
side, and then the other. "Help me get these blankets back, Cath, and let
me see how much work I have to do." Although nowhere near awake, Quatre
clutched the covers even as two sets of hands tried to steal them away.

"Hold
on a sec, I know how to get him out of there." The second voice was
slightly deeper, in a rich mocha sort of way. "You just do this,
and�" Suddenly, he was being tickled within an inch of his life.
Merciless fingers found every weak spot on his side, and then homed in for the
kill - the dreaded armpit attack. Quatre spasmodically flinched away from the
torturing hands and gasped for air, his hands losing their death-grip on the
blanket. He scrunched his eyes tightly against the abrupt burst of light.
"There, see, I told you! Always worked when my ex wouldn't get up for work.
Hilde, is he supposed to be all squenched up like that?"

"NO!
Stop that this instant � what are you trying to do, get premature
wrinkles?" Tiny fingers tried to smooth out his face, and Quatre batted at
them.

"G'way!
Lemme alone!" Quatre opened his eyes cautiously to see to women peering
curiously down at him, one a pretty, open-faced woman with shoulder length
auburn ringlets, and the other with impish pixy features, a red beret perched
jauntily on her short black hair. "Why are you in bed with me?"

"C'mon,
a cutie like you has to be used to waking up with pretty women in his bed!"
The dark haired girl exclaimed. "I'm Hilde by the way, and my partner in
crime here is Cathy. I'll be your make-up and hair gal for the next week, and
Cath here is Trowa's personal slave, I mean assistant."

"Actually,
I've never woken up with a woman in my bed before, and I hope I never do again.
No offense." Quatre scrubbed at his bleary eyes as he sat up, still
jet-lagged and confused.

"I
win!" Cathy crowed. "Pay up! Ha � told you it was a sucker's bet,
Hilde � they're all gay, you ought to know better by now!"

"Yeah,
right, whatever � just call me the eternal optimist. Wanna go double or
nothing on that cute concierge?" Hilde was busily exploring Quatre's face,
"Look at this, perfect pores, flawless complexion � and those lashes! I
tell you, how fair is it that men get these gorgeous long lashes naturally. I
think he even has a double set. Look up at me, sweetie. Wonderful, babe, my
job's going to be pure cake, and I'm going to still get paid a sinful
amount!" She ran her thumbs under his eyes, "In fact all I'm going to
have to do this morning is put a little concealer over those dreadful bags, and
you'll be faultless!" She tried fluffing his hair next, but her fingers
quickly caught in some tangles, "Ugh! You slept on this wet, didn't you?
Get in the shower and wet it down for me again." Quatre stared numbly back
and forth between the two women who were smiling at him expectantly. "Well?
What are you waiting for? Time's a wastin' and you so do not want to be late for
a Barton shoot!"

"I'm
kind of naked under here," Quatre informed her miserably, picking at the
blanket pooled in his lap. "Trowa said there would be clothes here for me,
but I couldn't find any last night�"

"Hon,
you don't have anything under that blanket that either of us haven't seen
before. And since we'll be the ones dressing you for the next week, you might as
well get used to it now!"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Forty
minutes later, Quatre was primped, preened, polished and once again in front of
Trowa's lens. They were on the banks of the misty Seine, the pre-dawn light
illuminating the fog and giving the whole area a dreamy glow. The ad this time
was for a designer, and Quatre was dressed in a tuxedo cut suit of dove gray.
The silk shirt under it was of the lightest pink, and the flowing trench coat he
wore over the top was a dark charcoal. He fidgeted as people buzzed about,
setting up lights and keeping a few curious tourists at bay. Finally, after all
the minute details had been taken care of, Trowa turned his attention to Quatre.

"What
the Hell's this!" he roared, striding over to Quatre with a determined
grimace on his face. "Hilde, didn't you read my notes for the set-up? He
looks all wrong."

"What
notes? The one that said "Have him there by 6 am or else?" `Cause
that's all Cathy and I got with our wake-up call this morning!" She gave
Quatre a proud little smile. "Besides, I think he looks just fine!"

"That's
not the point, it's not what I want! He's supposed to be walking home after the
best date of his life � I want him to look like he's been making out all
night, not like he just left the make- up chair! First, the tie has got to
go," Trowa tilted Quatre's head back and removed it, unbuttoning the top
two buttons of the shirt as well. "And his hair should look as if someone's
been running their hands through it," He proceeded to do just that. After a
few strokes, he gripped the back of Quatre's neck, pulling him closer and saying
in a huskier tone, "And his lips need to be bruised�" as he
descended on Quatre's mouth with his own. The kiss was hard and insistent and
Quatre opened up to it immediately, wrapping his arms around Trowa's neck and
pressing full against him. //Don't stop, oh god, don't ever stop!//
"Perfect, now." Trowa said as he pulled away and walked back to where
Cathy was holding his camera without a second glance at Quatre.

"Ok,
now just look natural, don't pose." Trowa called as he was focusing.
"Wander around a bit, like you're in a blissful daze."

The
instructions were not too difficult to follow; Quatre was still reeling from the
kiss. //I knew he was just tired, that was incredible� maybe after this we can
spend the rest of the day together�// He daydreamed as he leaned back against
the low stone wall bordering the sunken river bank, imagining the romantic Paris
sites that they would visit together, the feel of Trowa's strong hand holding
his own, and of all the things they might do after they returned to the hotel
that night. He could feel the heat start to rise in his face at this last train
of thought, and he stroked at his own cheek, with eyes half-lidded. Quatre's
dreamy haze was cut through by a high, piping voice, "Excusez-moi!" A
small girl with bouncy blonde ringlets and arms filled with pink and yellow
tulips tugged at his pant leg.

Quatre
knelt down to look in her in the face and addressed her with one of the few
French phrases he knew, "Je ne comprends pas francais."

"Non?"
she tilted her head to the side and gave him a little gap- toothed grin.

"Non."
He agreed and added the only other bit of French he knew, "Ou est la
toilette?" And smiled back at her as she giggled at him.

From
the side, Cathy called out to the girl, who answered without looking away from
Quatre, "She wants you to buy her flowers." She translated.

Quatre
stroked the girl's soft curls. "Tell the girl I'll pay her, and to just
give the flowers to Quatre � she looks good in the shot." Trowa
instructed and as the child handed him the bouquet, Quatre could not resist
giving her cheek a little kiss. She beamed at him before running lightly away,
bright laughter trailing in her wake.

He
straightened and looked to Trowa, "What am I supposed to do with
these?"

"Whatever
you want." Was all the answer Quatre received. For a moment he simply
stared down at the satiny pastel blossoms. But on sudden impulse, he threw the
bunch high into the air and stood, head back and arms wide, laughing as they
rained back down upon him.

The
silence that followed this act bewildered him, and he looked around to find the
crew staring stunned back at him. "Well," Trowa finally cut the
silence, "It's not going to get any better than that, folks. Pack it up and
move it out." He turned to Hilde, "Do you have his itinerary?
Good." He said as she nodded and then moved off to discuss developing the
film with Cathy. "I want you to under- expose the background and really
burn his image in� make sure he's the only color showing and�" his
voice trailing away as the pair walked off into the growing morning bustle.

Hilde
bounded up and grabbed Quatre's arm. "That was incredible! I've never seen
someone so spontaneous and unaffected � you're nothing like the usual
models!"

"I'm
not a model�" Quatre protested, but she quickly cut him off.

"It
doesn't matter what you were before, babe, `cause you're a model now. And I'm
betting you'll be the top in the business after these few couple of days! C'mon,
don't want to be late for your next appointment, do you?" Hilde dragged him
to the street, hailed a taxi, and crammed Quatre inside.

"Appointment?
Aren't I going with Trowa? Or at least back to the hotel for a nap?"

"Oh,
no, Cats � you're booked solid for the rest of today and the next two after!
Private fashion shows for all the top designers!" Quatre started to panic
and she soothed, "Not runway shows, Trowa wouldn't let them schedule you
for any of those � no these are salon shows for the influential buyers. All
you have to do is change your clothes every 20 minutes or so and mingle with the
guests. Heck, you don't even have to talk! Believe me, it'll be the easiest five
grand an hour you'll ever make."

"How
much?" Quatre's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.

"You
heard me. The only bad part is that your butt'll be black and blue � some of
the buyers like to pinch and grope � but for that kind of money, you'll live
through it."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A/N

Oh, and let me just add here that I know absolutely next to nothing about the
modeling biz, and have never been to Paris, so if there are some really wrong
details... hey, it's fiction.
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A Picture is Not Worth a Thousand Words