A Picture is Not Worth a Thousand Words | By : Maureen Category: Gundam Wing/AC > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 689 -:- 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. |
A Picture is Not Worth A Thousand Words
Pairings:
3x4
Disclaimer/Warning:
Unchecked sap flows freely through this fic (although I had to stick a little
angst in, the curse of a cynical nature...) So if you're not into ROMANCE don't
read this. Seriously, this thing gave me cavities to write ^_^
Oh,
and a bitsy bit of Duo "lecherous-ation"
Also,
this has non-graphic lemon~limey content
hmm,
unbeta'd to boot - watch out for randomly attacking comma splices...
Acknowledgments:
I most humbly thank Fablespinner
for both the title and the inspiration. In addition, this was loosely based on
the Audrey Hepburn movie "Funny Face" Neither the movie nor the Gundam
boys belong to me.
//things
bracketed like this are Quatre's thoughts//
"Okay,
move that light in over here – and someone get those books out of the way!
What are all those things doing in here, anyway?"
Quatre,
on the phone with a rare book dealer from L.A., cupped his hand over the
receiver, "I'll be with you in just a minute, please!" He returned to
the phone, "Listen Lou, if he wanted the translation, he'd go to Barnes and
Noble – he wants an original… yeah, I know how hard it will be for you to
locate, but think of the finder's fee you can tack on… I know… yes… No,
he's not an elitist scum; he's a very nice man with excellent taste in reading
material…ummm-hmm…" A loud crash from the front of the store,
"I've got to go Lou, I think I've got some kids out front trashing the
place, no, Rashid's not here – book buying in Asia again, and I'm supposed to
minding the place while he's gone – so let me go and mind! Later!" //This
is so not my day, first missing the bus, then spilling that large caffe latte on
my pants – no caffeine and I look incontinent, too… now I'll probably be
beaten senseless by some marauding gang…// Quatre's internal monologue turned
into a howl of pure despair as came out of the backroom and into the store
proper. There were people everywhere, shifting books off of shelves //no, not
the 16th century folios!// and setting up strong lights on stilts, and in
general bustling around destroying the musty bookstore atmosphere.
"Excuse
me!" Quatre said to a man walking by with a tackle box full of brushes and
small pots. The man gave him a brief once over and walked on with disdainful
sniff. "Excuse me!" The petit blonde tried again with, this time
addressing a pink haired woman with her arms filled with cameras. She didn't
even bother to turn in his direction. "Excuse me!" He tried one last
time, grabbing the arm of a longhaired man standing nearby.
"Oh,
a groupie? Want an autograph, cutie?" The man winked at Quatre as he
flipped his braid over his shoulder and grabbed a receipt pad from the counter.
"Who should I make this out to, Baby Face?" He nudged Quatre with a
hard elbow and added, "You know, I am seeing someone right now, but if you
slip me your number, I'll see if I can work you in sometime…" He waggled
his eyebrows leeringly and pinched Quatre's apron-framed tush.
Quatre
sputtered, red-faced and helpless for a few moments. //Did he just grab my
ass?!? Yes, he did – that's it!// "Stop!! All of you! Right now! What in
the Hell is going on around here?" Quatre never swore; anyone who knew him
would have headed for the door as soon as the word fell from his lips. These
people did not know Quatre, however, so instead they kept at their assigned
tasked as the tomato- faced blonde bristled and fumed in their midst. //It never
fails, things were going too smooth – Rashid finally even trusted me alone in
the store – and now this – I might as well leave now, `cause I'll be fired
when he gets back…// He slowly untied his apron, letting it fall to the floor
as he backed to the door, unable to tear his eyes from the destruction of his
ordered world. //And I spent all morning indexing and shelving those rare
Chinese texts! And my display… and where the hell do they think they're taking
my ferns?// The flustered shopkeeper was so preoccupied that he didn't notice
the man kneeling by the door until he tripped over him.
"Oh,
I am so sorry – I didn't see you there!" Quatre began as he eased himself
out of the other man's lap.
"You
should be – have you ever tried watching where you're going? Very
unprofessional, I assure you!" Quatre missed the humor coloring the warm
baritone; the words were too much of a slap.
"I
beg your pardon!" He pushed away from the man violently, his hands taking
stock of the firm muscles of the other's chest without Quatre's permission.
"You
should." Quatre didn't miss the laughter in the man's tone this time, and
he took it personally.
"That's
it! Absolutely it! I don't know who you people think you are, but this is a
place of business! You can't just waltz in here and start moving things to suit
yourself! You all clear out of here now and maybe I won't call the police!"
//Yeah, way to sound like a real manly man, Quatre – I'll bet that scared a
whole two seconds off of his life…// He drew a deep breath and opened his
mouth, intent on scorching the man with his words, but all that he could manage
was a pitiful squeak as their eyes met for the first time. //So green, so green,
I've never seen anything so green… so warm… it's like he's looking straight
into my soul…// Quatre was poised on his knees, and the only thing that kept
him from melting down even further were the two strong hands gripping him by the
elbows. He let his eyes flicker over the rest of the man, and they widened
painfully as he took in the finely sculpted chest, firm chin and aquiline nose.
Reddish-brown hair hung down over most of the man's face, concealing just enough
to make him mysterious. //Have I ever seen anything even close to this sexy? If
that T-shirt was any tighter… and look at the muscles in his arms…// He bit
his lip, hard, trying to regain some sense of control, but when he met the man's
eyes for a second time, he knew he was lost. //I'm drowning, and God help me, I
don't want to be saved…//
"Hey,
are you the new boy they sent over for the shoot? I know I asked for fresh-faced
and wholesome, but … wow, I never expected them to find anyone like you."
The man took hold of Quatre's gaping face with strong but gentle hands and
twisted it this way and that. "Finally, something good to work with! And
the wardrobe's perfect!" He gestured to Quatre's light blue vest and white
button down shirt, and then ran a caressing finger over Quatre's peach fuzz
cheek, "Hell, I don't think you even need make-up!"
"Make-up?
Why would I need make-up?" Quatre's anger entirely melted away as he leaned
into the touch.
"Ah,
but you have a typical model's arrogance!" The laughter returned to the
man's voice and he removed his hand.
"Model?
I'm not a model, I work here!" Quatre looked longingly at the fine, slender
fingers. //It has been too long since I had a date! Just that little touch and
I'm ready to… darn my skin!// he thought as he felt the blood rushing to his
face.
"I
am sorry! My name's Trowa Barton, by the way," Quatre shook the extended
hand and reluctantly let it go. "Could you tell me where Raoul is? I'd like
to clear up a few of the details…"
"Raoul?"
"Yes,
this is Raoul's Book Emporium, isn't it?" His eyes flickered down to
Quatre's nametag, which quite plainly read `Rashid's Rare Books and
Manuscripts.' "Shit."
"And
that's exactly what I'll be in if you and your people don't clear out of here
right now!"
"Look,
Quatre?" Trowa gestured again to the tag, and when Quatre nodded he
continued, "Is the owner around?"
"No,
he's in Asia on business – and I'm supposed to be watching the place while
he's gone."
Trowa
rose gracefully from the floor and held a hand down to help Quatre up. He tugged
a little too hard, and Quatre fell against the long, hard length of his body in
mortified delight. Trowa dusted him off, lingering a few seconds longer than
necessary over the seat of Quatre's pants, "Listen, my butt'll be in sling
if I don't get this shoot today – and by the time we find the other store and
set up again, the light'll be all wrong. Couldn't you just kind of turn a blind
eye to all of this," He gestured to the pandemonium wreaking havoc on
Quatre's ordered world and pleaded, "And let me take a few pictures? I
promise, we'll help you get everything back in order – it won't take more than
a few hours… Please?"
"I
don't know…" Quatre wanted to give in to this gorgeous godling, but the
looming shadow of Rashid tempered his growing lust.
"Please?"
Trowa wheedled, "C'mon, I'll treat you to dinner afterwards…"
"Sure!"
Quatre snapped up the bait of the extended invitation, Rashid totally forgotten.
//A date! He asked me on a date! Am I drooling too noticeably?// "Can I
help?"
"No,
just try to stay out of the way." Trowa turned and began to walk deeper
into the store, but twisted back to Quatre, "Wait – I was serious before,
I would like to use you for the pictures. Could you be the clerk?"
Quatre
laughed, "I *am* the clerk – what do you need me to do?"
"First,
find something to cover the stain on your pants – you should have rinsed that
out immediately, the coffee'll be terrible to get out later. Then just go stand
behind the counter and do what you usually do… you know, book stuff."
Trowa winked and walked away to stand by the braided man Quatre guessed must be
the model. They started to argue about how many buttons should be undone on the
man's gaping shirt. "Duo, you're supposed to be in here buying books, not
looking like a reject from a cheap 70's porno!"
"Hey
Barton, you may be the photog on this shoot, but I know what sells – sex! And
my hot, hot body is just what the people want to see – that's why I get paid
the big bucks." Duo undid the buttons that Trowa had just finished
fastening. "Are we gonna start this sometime today – I've gotta be on the
6:15 to Paris. Where's the other model?"
"We're
going to use Quatre," Trowa gestured to the blonde, who slid behind the
counter as he retied the bow on his apron. "A fresh face will liven up this
tired campaign…"
"Funny
face, you mean!" The make-up artist cackled as he looked over Quatre.
"What do you expect me to do with this?" He grabbed Quatre's face in
the same manner that Trowa had earlier, but his fingers dug hard into the pale
skin. "Never heard of tanners down on the farm, sonny boy? Christ, Barton,
it'll take me hours to make it so Casper here looks human!"
"Don't
you put a drop of make-up on him! He's perfect the way he is!" Trowa came
to Quatre's rescue and knocked the claw-like hand away from his cheeks.
"Now look what you've done!" He rubbed his hand along Quatre's face,
where pressure marks from the rough fingers stood out like a brand. Quatre felt
his eyes lose focus and his knees start to buckle. "Do you bruise easily,
or will these fade in a few minutes?"
"Keep
doing that and they should disappear entirely before too long," Quatre
purred. //The marks would go away on their own, but I'm not telling him that!//
All
too soon for Quatre, Trowa stopped the gentle caress and called Duo over to the
counter. "Okay, here's the set up. This is going to be an ad for
"Envy" cologne, by the way, Quatre. Duo here walks into your little
bookstore and needs help finding just the right book – now I'll want you to go
up that ladder thing to fetch something down for him, and Duo, you're looking up
at him lustfully when he's up there – Quatre you come down and catch him
looking at you – you're intrigued! When you're eye to eye with him, stop! Duo,
you take the book from his hand, keep the eye contact going and let your fingers
linger over his – make me feel the sexual tension, got it?" Duo was
playing with the bubble gum in his mouth, pulling it out, and letting it snap
back, not really paying attention.
//Lusting
after him? Yeah, right!// "I'll try, Trowa – but I'm not sure I'll be
very good at this." //What have I gotten myself into … // Trowa gave
Quatre's shoulder an encouraging squeeze and winked when the blonde looked up at
him. He walked back over to the tripod, and Quatre thought //Dinner with the
most perfect body I've yet to see in this sorry city, that's what!//
Although
Quatre tried hard to follow Trowa's instructions, but he was unable to create
the exact expression the photographer asked for, "I don't understand it,
Quatre. When I'm standing here, looking up at you – you've got it down
perfectly, but the second I get behind my camera – you lose the look!" He
raked his long bangs back with a sigh of frustration. "Fine, let's try it
from a different angle – bring some lights over here, I'm going to shoot this
sequence from below. Now Quatre, try it again – look down at Duo like he's the
most stunning thing you've ever seen…"
"I
am the most stunning thing the kid's ever seen, right sweetie?"
"Shut
up, Duo," Trowa growled from his new position on the floor. He was laying
between Duo's legs and angling the lens upwards to catch both Duo's and Quatre's
faces. "That's it Quatre! You've got it now!" He encouraged, not
noticing that the young man was looking at him rather than the other model.
"God, you're hot! Keep giving it to me, it looks so real! Come down a bit
further now – hold it right like that while I get up!" Trowa stood and
moved so he was in Quatre's direct line of sight, but still able to keep Duo's
face in the frame. "Great! I knew you were a natural! Now lick your lips
like you want to just eat him up – let your face show everything that your
body wants to do…"
"You'll
have to airbrush that blush out later!" sniped the still miffed make-up
artist.
"No
I won't – it's part of his charm. C'mon Quatre, just a few more and it's all
over… yeah, got it! Great shoot everyone!" The shop erupted into a frenzy
bustle of packing and loud laughter.
"Pretty
good for a virgin, kiddo! `Course no one's going to be looking at you
anyway." Duo attempted to cop another feel but Quatre nimbly sidestepped
him. //No touching the merchandise, buddy!// he thought as he vainly attempted
to spot Trowa in the throng. Before he knew it, however, the store had emptied,
and only the disorderly shelves and the haphazardly piled boxes of books showed
that the afternoon had happened at all.
Quatre
bit back a frustrated sigh and buried his face in his arms on the counter. //All
this extra work, and he skipped out on the dinner date, too… this is so not my
day!// He was seriously contemplating staying face down on the counter for the
rest of the night, when Trowa's rich voice broke the still air, "It wasn't
that bad, was it?"
"Look
at my store!" Quatre all but wailed, "I thought you said I'd have help
putting everything back!"
"Hey,
that's why I'm here. And look," He held up a bag from the deli down the
street, "I brought you're favorite, smoked turkey with hot honey mustard on
toasted oatmeal, right?" Quatre merely stared. "And cheesecake for
dessert – the cashier said you loved it." Trowa waved the strawberry
drenched slice under his nose. "Come on, I'm trying here – I know the
place is a mess, but let's eat first and then I'm your slave for the rest of the
night.
Quatre
blinked. //My slave? I wish he really meant that… and cheesecake, too! Maybe
today isn't so bad after all!// "Alright," he relented, unable to
really glare at Trowa anyway, "Let me lock up, and then we can eat in the
back."
Over
dinner, they shared bits of their life stories. Trowa told Quatre he really
wanted to be a photojournalist documenting the lives of endangered species,
while Quatre confessed that he had a degree in creative writing and collected
countless rejection letters from various publishers as a hobby. "So why do
you work here?" Trowa asked as he gathered the empty sandwich wrappers.
"For
the same reason you do fashion ads – I have to pay the bills somehow. I don't
think they'd accept rejection letters instead of student loan payments. Besides,
it's not so bad," he snickered, "Other than today, it's generally
pretty quiet in here."
Trowa
took the teasing well enough and presented the cheesecake to Quatre with a
flourish, "Eat up and then we'll get started."
Quatre
speared a huge bite and was about to inhale it when he noticed Trowa was
dessert-less and simply staring at Quatre with his chin propped in one hand.
"Where's yours?"
"They
only had one piece left, and you deserve it – go on, it'll be a treat just to
watch you eat it." Trowa seemed a little surprised at his own words,
"I mean, you seem to like it so much that I'll enjoy just watching you…
that came out kind of wrong, didn't it?"
//Only
if you didn't mean it like I hope you did!// Quatre had been subtly flirting
with Trowa the entire meal, and was beginning to wonder if he would have to
resort to more overt tactics. "We could share it," he said, and held
his breath. Trowa quirked an eyebrow at him, but scooted his chair around the
small table until they were side by side. He took the plastic fork from Quatre,
"Allow me." And he fed him the bite. They traded the fork back and
forth, feeding each other slowly, each savoring the smooth, creamy texture of
the dessert, until only one small morsel remained. It was Trowa's turn, but he
insisted Quatre take it. As he pulled the fork away for the final time, a bit of
the strawberry sauce escaped and dripped down Quatre's chin. Trowa's eyes
widened and he grinned, "Looks like I'll get the last taste, after
all," he whispered as he leaned forward to lick it away.
Quatre's
heart stopped in his chest as Trowa slowly approached, giving him time to pull
away. His eyes rolled back in his head when Trowa's hands slipped down to the
small of his back and he leaned into the touch. Trowa's warm lips had barely
brushed his chin when a ringing cell phone split through the thick air and
shattered the mood. "Shit!" Trowa muttered as he pulled the phone from
his pants pocket. Quatre silently added several more curses as the conversation
progressed. "What do you mean you lost the last roll? That was everything
– all the money shots were on there!" Trowa shrugged apologetically at
Quatre and snaked a finger out to wipe the strawberry away, absently popping it
in mouth. "Have you checked in the bag with the … Don't tell me you've
looked everywhere – if you had you know where the damn film was! Yes, I know
they want to see the pictures first thing in the morning…" Trowa's
expression was growing increasingly more agitated. "Yes, I know we won't be
able to book Duo again for another two months… Yes, I am pissed off at you…
What? Wait a minute." He put his hand over the phone and glanced at Quatre,
whose hand was busily rooting in Trowa's shirt pocket. He mutely held up the
sought after roll of film and Trowa snatched it. "Listen, I've got it! I'll
be there as soon as I can get across town – you'll have plenty of time to
develop them. What? What do you mean? Hello?" Trowa turned off the phone,
"Crap, my assistant just quit – God, what a day! But you," he
grabbed Quatre's shoulders and pulled him for a searing but all too brief kiss,
"You saved my life! Twice now! I don't know how I can ever repay you!"
He stood, obviously preparing to go.
"I…
I thought we already agreed you'd be my slave for the night." Quatre
protested lamely as Trowa rushed towards the front of the shop and, he was
afraid, out of his life.
"I'm
so sorry, but if I don't get these ready for the morning, I'm going to lose my
job… you understand, don't you? Listen, I'll call you – take you out to
dinner for real. I know a hot place up town with some fantastic cheesecake…
maybe we could try this again? Oh, hell," Trowa took one look at Quatre's
dejected face and closed the distance between them. "I want you to know I
enjoyed meeting you, Quatre," and after stunning him with hurried but
methodical kiss, Trowa was out the door and swallowed up by the bustling city.
"This
isn't my day," Quatre told the tornado-struck store as he fingered his
tingling lips, "He didn't even ask for my number…"
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