(no subject)
Title: Just For One Night
Author: elsie21
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Characters/pairing: 6+9
Warnings: semi-AU - post series, post EW, with references to current day holiday traditions
Christmas was over, thank God.
Not that he believed in God, or thought Christmas was more than a commercialization of someone's antiquated beliefs, but he knew that the holiday was supposed to be a time of peace and good will toward men.
What a fucking joke. There had been the woman who'd snatched the package of socks out of his hands when he'd picked them up, and the brood of children screaming and running around the department store like a band of wild tribesman. To top it off he'd held the door open for a middle aged woman carrying packages, and for his trouble he'd had his foot stomped on and a dirty look thrown his way.
"And a very happy New Year to you," he'd told her before hailing a taxi.
Christmas morning hadn't been much better. The scrawny tree they had, all of two feet tall according to the plastic bag it came in, had a place of honor in the center of the table, over an even cheaper plastic tablecloth. They'd exchanged gifts because it was what she'd wanted, and he'd been uninspired and unimaginative, getting her a gift certificate for barely enough to pick out a pair of gloves and a hat.
She'd gotten him a new steering wheel cover and wiper blades for his car, and then they'd had coffee, gone to watch television, and the best part of the day had been not having to go to work.
Of all jobs he was ill suited for, customer service was at the top of the list, and he was glad that he'd been given the night off, because although he had no plans to celebrate the coming of the new year, he didn't feel like dealing with people who had nothing better to do than to go out and spend money they didn't have.
To keep himself from growing mad with boredom he spent the afternoon determining what New Year's resolutions each customer had probably made and how long before they'd break them.
It hadn't helped all that much.
His boots crunched through the snow and he could see his breath, but he only had another half a block to go before he reached the apartment. He had to pass a trio of merrymakers, silly hats on and paper bagged bottles in hand, but instead of ignoring them he gave them a small nod of his head.
He could really use a drink right about now.
They didn't have the money for it. They didn't have the money for much of anything, not at this time of the year when the heating bill had skyrocketed from the modest summer cost to an amount that rivaled their monthly rent. It was insulting for the son of a king to be living this way, but Zechs preferred it to the life he'd given up to come to earth, the planet he'd nearly destroyed.
It was cold here, but not as frigid as Mars had been, and he stomped his feet on the rubber mat outside the door, waiting for the snow to fall between the spaces before pressing his thumb on the latch. It stuck there a little bit, pulling at the skin before he got it free, and he'd forgotten how warm the hall was when he closed the door behind him.
Wreaths of plastic greenery decorated nearly every door and he walked up the stairs, closer to the wall than the banister, and he frowned as he approached their apartment and saw the door was ajar.
The frown deepened when he heard the music coming from inside and when he reached for the door, it swung open to reveal Mariemeia dressed in red velvet and white lace.
"You're here," she said, and then ran from the door, yelling to anyone who would listen, "He's here! He's here!"
"Where else would I be?" he asked the coat rack. "I live here."
The music didn't stop, but it still felt like a hush had fallen over the room when Noin came to greet him, the bobbing silver pom poms on her plastic hair band swaying with every step. He'd expected to find her dressed to the nines, in something formal and elegant, but she was in faded jeans and an oversized sweatshirt with a photo of a curled up kitten on the front.
She looked right at home and entirely too domestic to be the woman he'd known since his days in the academy.
Zechs looked around the room, at Heero, Duo, and Relena taking turns throwing velcro balls at a target mounted on the bathroom door and at Trowa and that woman from Oz, Schbeiker, who was laughing a little too hard at whatever Trowa had just said to her.
Wufei and Une were walking this way with Mariemeia and then he looked back at Noin to see the beer in her hand.
"This one's yours," she said, giving him a lopsided smile that told him she'd had more than one herself before he'd gotten there.
He shrugged and took the bottle from her, then walked right past her, toward Quatre Winner who was sitting on one side of the sofa, asleep.
The snoring, however, came from the white cat on his lap.
Noin was right there, again, next to him, and he didn't have to look at her to know that she was no longer smiling. She knew better, and so did Winner. They barely had enough money to feed themselves let alone take in an animal that was going to leave hair all over every article of clothing they owned.
What the hell had everyone been thinking?
Out of the corner of his eye he could see Mariemeia, and if not for the firm hand Wufei had on her shoulder, she'd have run over to pet the cat and give him the big bug eyed look that seemed to work on everyone (even Wufei).
They knew he wasn't going to cause a scene here, but he wanted to tell them all to get the fuck out of his apartment and leave them in peace. He had things to discuss with Noin and he wasn't in the mood to do it with an audience.
The cat's tail began to move, back and forth, up and down, and it thumped against Quatre's leg before curling up into a question mark. Zechs stared at it and it opened one sleepy eye to glare at him as if he was the intruder. He looked over at Noin, who probably hadn't taken a breath since he'd spied the stupid thing.
It got to its feet and began kneading Quatre's thigh, and when it looked up at him again, smug and triumphant (but not for long), he noticed that one eye was blue but the other was green. He also noticed the blanket of white fur on Quatre's pants, just as he'd predicted.
He was going to kill them both.
Zechs handed his beer to Noin. "I'm putting this coat in the bedroom closet. You can have some of it if you want."
After putting his coat away, he stopped in the bathroom first. His reflection looked just like it did every morning when he got up and every night when he brushed his teeth before bed. He unbuttoned the collar of his shirt and washed his hands. If he wanted the cat gone, he had to do it while Quatre was still here and could take it home with him.
Noin was nowhere to be found when he returned to the sofa, but Quatre and the unwelcome guest were. He stood there, looking down his nose at Quatre, but he'd forgotten how resilient and proud the head of Winner Enterprises could be, and the younger man began scratching the cat's ear. It tipped its head to the side and even from where he stood, Zechs could hear it purring.
Of course it was happy. It didn't have to worry about how many mice it had killed, or if it had done it for a good reason. It didn't care if it ate what it caught or left it for someone else to find.
It didn't need to be here in this apartment.
"I always wanted a pet," Quatre murmured. "But then I hoped for world peace, too."
Zechs could have said that world peace would reign before he shared the apartment with a cat, but he kept his own counsel on that.
The music stopped and someone clinked a fork or a knife against a wineglass, then everyone began counting.
"Five! Four! Three!"
On television, the ball dropped, Auld Lang Syne began to play, and the guests with noisemakers began blowing or twirling them, and Mariemeia had one of each that she used to make a racket loud enough to wake the nearest colony.
Zechs didn't have to look down to know that the cat had jumped from Quatre's lap to the floor because he could feel it winding around his legs, rubbing up against him and leaving white hairs all over his pants.
A small red and white package was held in front of him, and he looked over at Quatre. "What's this?"
Quatre smiled, and he was the only person Zechs knew who could smile that broadly and mean it. "Merry Christmas."
"You mean Happy New Year."
"That's up to you," Quatre said, and he bent down to scratch the cat behind the ears again.
It looked sublimely happy until something caught it's attention and it darted across the room, skidding over the wooden floor and colliding with the bookshelf. Its walk was wobbly and staggered after that, and it suddenly lay down on its side.
Noin dropped to her knees next to it, the silver pom poms bobbing again, and she gently put her hand on its side.
"She's breathing."
Zechs stared at it some more, and then the cat opened its eyes, looked right at him, and closed one of them. Zechs was sure the thing hadn't actually winked at him, but it was busy head butting the crook of Noin's elbow and looked to be just as annoyingly self entitled as ever.
"Just for one night," he told Noin later that night - technically that morning - when they'd finally gone to bed and the cat was curled up between them.
She rolled over and kissed him. "Just for one night," she agreed.
Of course she would. It was the same thing he'd said when she suggested that they get an apartment together. He'd been dead set against it, but what he'd said instead was that they'd try it, but just for one night. He wasn't promising anything beyond that.
This time the snores came from Noin, who had probably had a good number of beers just since Zechs had come home, and he reached behind him to turn off the bedside lamp. Just before the light went out, the cat winked at him again.
Animals were supposed to be psychic, but Zechs didn't believe in that. He also knew that there was no way it could know that it had been New Year's Even when he'd told Noin "just one night".
The cat mewed and hooked the blanket with a claw, and Zechs yanked it up to his armpits and let it do its best to uselessly try to pull it away. He looked over at Noin again, sleeping with her mouth open. In an hour she'd roll over and take the blankets with her. For a woman who'd do anything, sacrifice anything, for him, she was a horrible bed hog. He'd found that out on the very first night they'd spent in that first apartment, when they'd only had a day bed to sleep in at night.
He looked at the cat who decided that the small of Noin's back looked more comfortable and there it curled up, resting its chin on its back paws and ignoring him completely. Just one night, he'd told Noin, and that had been ten years ago.
Beneath the blankets, he reached for her hand and caressed her knuckles, roughened from the work she did. "Happy Anniversary," he whispered.
In the dark and silent room, the cat began to purr.