title: Routine
fandom: Gundam Wing
characters/pairings: Trowa/Wu Fei
rating: G
warnings: sad
summary: The beginning of their day.
notes: because my darling aisoku said there were no trowa/fei fics, and i thought maybe he was right, but they do spend time together in the series. so this is kinda stream of conscious-y, thinking about what they would be like together. the lack of duoness disturbs me, tho. hrm.

The sound of the air being cut woke him up. He blinked sleepily, but did not lift his head. He stared at the white ceiling, flawless and broad, and he saw in the shadows and light playing across its expanse his partner's movements. It was a refined dance that played and taunted death. Trowa closed his eyes again, and tried to picture something else.

For more than an hour, the sound of the air being cut whooshed through the room. Each morning began the same. Trowa thought perhaps he might forgive himself in time, but time had passed and his morning exercises just got longer. It didn't really matter, he supposed. It was always the same anyway.

When the sound stopped, Trowa would lumber out of bed and start the tea. Wu Fei would cool down, and he would hand him a towel as he passed into the kitchen. They would sit on opposite sides of the table, and drink their tea together. Then they would go their separate ways, until the end of the day.

During the day, Trowa hardly ever thought about Wu Fei. He didn't suppose that Wu Fei ever thought of him, either. There were times when he wasn't even sure why they were together, except that it was routine by now, and he was used to it, and he thought that maybe Wu Fei appreciated his lack of judgement.

Perhaps if he could muster the energy to judge, he might be able to break them out of this cycle.

Silence blossomed, unbroken for long enough for Trowa to know that the day had begun. He did not look at the pictures of Duo and Heero and Quatre on the wall as he walked by; he had not put them there. He measure the tea carefully before lowering the silver ball into the water. He had perfected the art of tea, but he thought of it as a tenuous thing, like staying on a high wire, and he could lose it at any time.

Wu Fei did not speak as he took his towel. Wu Fei hardly ever spoke, unless he was on the phone, but Trowa did not listen in on Wu Fei's conversations with Duo. He liked the sound of Wu Fei's voice, but he was willing to wait until Wu Fei had something to say.

He thought about what he would make for dinner that night. He only worked part time, so he was always home first. He had physical therapy that afternoon, so maybe he would stop by the fishmonger's on the way, and get something interesting. He sipped his tea quietly, mostly just breathing in the aroma.

Wu Fei put his hand on Trowa's shoulder as he walked back from placing his tea cup in the sink. He did not see Wu Fei's eyes, but he could imagine them, fathomless and dark, like the blackness of space between the stars. Trowa loved that blackness. He heard the water start in the shower, and he rinsed out their cups, and the kettle, and went to get dressed. He moved slowly and deliberately, selecting a shirt and a pair of pants, even though they were all the same, or much the same. He picked up his gym bag as he left their room. Wu Fei was in the bathroom, shaving. He thought about calling out goodbye, because he always thought about that, but he never did.

His limp was getting much better. It didn't always hurt so much to walk anymore. He touched the frame with Catherine's picture just before stepping outside, reminding himself for the millionth time to send flowers to her grave site. But he never did remember.

He liked this routine. He hoped it could last, at least for a little bit.








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