Walking back from the far field hadn't quite been the ending to the perfect day he had in mind. But the sun was still warm, his boots comfortably broken in, and he hadn't walked the land in over a year. It'd been his own fault; he knew the old Harvester had been having problems. It was time for a new one but he loathed giving up on what seemed an old friend.
Blue returned at a run, circled his legs and let out a happy yelp. The house was in sight, if still a ways off. Quatre gave the shepherd a pat and the dog took off again with seemingly boundless energy. When Blue began to bark, he started to trot towards the house. An unfamiliar pick-up was parked in the drive and Quatre slowed to a walk, scanning the yard for its owner.
Movement from the porch drew his attention, and as the figure moved out of the shadows and into the light, Quatre's steps faltered.
"Trowa," he mouthed more than said, his throat suddenly dry.
Oblivious to the instant tension, Blue trotted back to Quatre, the stump of his tail wagging in a shimmy. Quatre put a hand on top his head, his eyes never leaving the phantom form.
"I hope you don't mind," he was saying, coming closer one step at a time, "I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop by." He stopped a rough three meters away.
"Neighborhood?" Quatre repeated. He shook his head, a small snort forcing its way out. "This isn't a neighborhood sort of place â€" it's a small country of its own." He couldn't help but drink in the sight of him. "You look good."
Trowa nodded, a half-grin formed and he drew a step closer. "So do you." He looked away and back. "But you always did."
Blue stood between them, looking from one to the other. He nudged Quatre's hand and gave a sharp yelp. "He remembers you." Quatre stroked the fur down along the dog's neck. He fell silent wishing Trowa would say more, wishing he could.
If he hadn't been watching him so intently, he never would have heard those words. He nodded slowly, and licked dry lips. His voice was low but strong as he said, "like an elephant."
The distance between them disappeared. Trowa's hug was much as he remember, just as he'd been imagining. Between the hugs, and quickly brushed kisses, they shared whispered words of apologies, of forgiveness and never forgotten feelings.
Amid the crush of emotion surfaced the single rogue thought that this was the perfect ending to the perfect day.