Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing, its characters, its quotations, or its plotlines. They belong to the Sotsu Agency who owns their trademark, Bandai who licenses their use, and, of course, the guy who created them. I am neither receiving payment for this work, nor will I accept any. No copyright infringement is intended.

Pairings: 3/4/5
Rating: anyone who isn't anti-yaoi
Warnings: third person limited, Trowa POV, a little angsty, a little sappy, a little wok-y

Notes: I wasn't going to write this one, either. It was done. Two short shorts. But someone pointed out that Quatre didn't get to say anything even though he's a major player and please let's have a happy ending for Trowa. So, here we are. Again. I'm still a dork. This is a sequel to the sequel. I don't really know what's up with me and the wok thing.

On a Park Bench - Part 3
by Muffie

Trowa dropped onto the center of the park bench and spread his arms along the back. He sighed, letting the heaviness of the day slip away, and watched the wildlife rehabilitation park's newest resident limp hesitantly from her cave to a sunning rock. The white Bengal carefully pulled herself onto the rock, turned the requisite three times, then flopped down just as he had.

"Doctor Livingstone, I presume?"

Trowa tilted his head to look up at Quatre, then smirked.

"I told Wufei you'd be here. He's upset. He wanted to see you at commencement, Trowa Barton, zoologist." Quatre sat next to him, on the left, and cuddled a shoulder under his arm.

Trowa turned his head and took a deep breath of blonde, flyaway hair. "That's Trowa Barton, zoologist Magna cum Laude."

The Bengal yawned, licking at her lips, and lounged with as supercilious a smirk as he'd ever seen on an animal. He thought about suggesting she be named Dorothy.

Quatre gestured toward the tiger. "Any word from Dr. Marta?"

Trowa sighed, the corners of his mouth tugging down. He wrapped an arm around Quatre and hugged him tighter. The tiger's tail curled and uncurled. "Marta says she'll be here permanently. The break went into the joint and it's doubtful we can rehabilitate it enough for her to survive in the wild."


With his cheek against the top of Quatre's head, Trowa felt a perfect kinship with the tiger on the rock.


He rubbed his face against Quatre, just a little. "Hmm?"

"Are you happy? With us?"


"Lately, it feels like you've been distracted. Wufei said he caught you fondling that stupid wok Heero gave you last Christmas." Quatre snuggled in deeper, hugged him just a bit tighter. "Are you thinking of leaving?"

Trowa blinked. Leaving?

"I won't let you, Trowa."

Trowa wrapped his arms around Quatre and snuggled right back. He smiled comfortably. "I'm not leaving. I promised, remember?"

"I remember, do you?"

He slipped a finger under Quatre's chin and tilted his head up. "I promised to talk to you and listen before I leave, which I'm not so I haven't."

"That's try to leave."

Trowa smirked. "Going to kidnap me?"

Quatre leered. "You'll make a handsome love slave."

"Aren't I already?"

Wufei leaned over the back of the bench and kissed them both on the cheek. "Not today, Trowa. It's your day. Even if you did have the diploma mailed to you."

Quatre nodded, tugging on Wufei's hair. "Exactly. It's Wufei's turn to be the love slave."

Wufei grunted, then helped Quatre sandwich Trowa on the bench. "Are you missing your woks? Quatre could always quit working for Iria and open a wok manufacturing business here."

Quatre leaned around Trowa to fix Wufei with a dirty glare. "I like the love slave idea better."

Wufei smirked.

"I'm not missing the factory." Trowa frowned and rubbed his wrists. "At all."

Wufei arched an eyebrow. "Then what have you been brooding over?"

Trowa swallowed, though the lump in his throat didn't move. "I haven't been brooding."

"Trowa," Wufei said in that you-better-confess tone of his.

Trowa swallowed again and pulled the box from his pocket before he could talk himself out of it again. "I have something for you. Both of you."

His hand stalled, hidden between Wufei's thigh and his hip. Everything inside of him was screaming that this was stupid, it was bad, that everything was just fine the way it was and he would only be making it worse.

Quatre slipped a hand under Trowa's shirt, making him jerk, then began a slow petting through the fine hairs on his abdomen.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Trowa plopped the hand with the box in his own lap, then forced his fist to unclench before he crushed the box. It took two tries to pry it open with the shaking fingers of his other hand.

"Trowa...." Wufei breathed along the curve of Trowa's neck. Sword-calloused fingers pushed the lid of the box off completely, pitching it to the ground.

"You know that wok Heero bought me for Christmas? He says it came from my assembly line." Trowa shrugged and rubbed his thumb over one of the charcoal colored rings in the box and then the other. "Probably not."

Quatre started choking. He slumped over his own knees, a hand on the ground.

Trowa dropped the box, barely noting that Wufei caught it, and grabbed Quatre's shoulders. "Quatre?"

The choking became snorts. Quatre finally hit the ground and rolled onto his back. His red-faced snorting rolled into laughter that shook his entire body.

Trowa shared a look with Wufei, his eyebrow arching. "I think I'm insulted."

Quatre slapped Trowa's knee, then waved his left hand imperiously in the air. "Put it on me. My ring. My anodized aluminum ring. I want it."

Wufei brought the box up to his face and squinted at the rings. After a moment, he shoved the box into Trowa's lap and stuck his left hand out. "I want mine, too."

Trowa gusted out a disgruntled sigh that he didn't mean. "You know these are wedding rings, right?"

Quatre's hand jiggled a distinct command, the laughter tapering off into hiccups. Wufei harrumphed. "It means you won't leave us. Ring. Now."

Trowa smiled, just a little, behind his hair and slid the smaller ring onto Wufei and the bigger one onto Quatre.

Quatre held his hand up, fingers splayed, and admired it. "Iria's going to kill you, you know. I can't believe you had our wedding bands made out of a wok."

"I had them engraved." Trowa leaned back in the bench and watched the Bengal stare at them with narrow-eyed interest. He couldn't stop the smile from spreading. "You are my home."


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